The Most Dangerous Game

"Now that you are not working, you need a boyfriend. No, seriously... you are 22 years old, you're not fugly - I mean, if you were fugly I'd just say poor thing, but your not - by Christmas, your not coming home if your coming alone." And that is what I woke up to, hazy in a hangover, on Saturday morning November 7th. To top it all off? "I really don't see why that should be so difficult - when I was 22, people were falling all over me, I'd lift my leg and there they were!" Well isn't that great... for my mother. The lifting of the leg story explains how my brothers and I arrived on this green earth, however now that we're here, mother hen has some demands. Amongst them? That she doesn't have to spend Christmas (were jewish) with us - because for years she has been hoping that we will call to say "sorry, we'd love to, but we'll be doing something fabulous with our significant others". Know what I say to that!? Maybe I don't have a boyfriend because I lack a certain,... maternal gene. But whether it be out of love, or lust for alone time - my mother has now become more desperate than most Manhattan women and is on the prowl by proxy. So now to ensure that I won't be home for Christmas, I will be dating, mating and extricating in the fast lane - the 48 day "fast" lane to be exact. And of course, like any Jewish mother with high X-mas list demands, there are rules; no one sleezy (thanks mom), no one from the past, and no one who doesn't have holiday plans they must include with this NY jew,... they may be celebrating their savior, my mother will be celebrating hers. So read, enjoy, and let the games begin.