ITEM! Tater Tots: Food of the Gods? I'd say so.

Good morning. What is wrong with people? Not even 8am, and now a different woman is outside my apartment screaming "MOMMA!"

I wonder if 'Fluffy' and 'Momma' are the same person. 'Momma Fluffy,' Moms Fluff,' or 'Mother Fluffs' would all be great characters in any literary endeavor. Note to self: "The Adventures of Mother Fluffs." Possible screenplay?

Something for me to consider.

I've actually seen this woman before. She's a leathery blond who has obviously smoked way too many cigarettes and looks to be in her mid to late 40's or so. She dresses like a 40 year old might think a hot young thang in her 20's might dress. When I saw her, I made up a story for her, and imagined that she was a hooker, coming to service one of the many elderly gents who live in this building.

Speaking of hookers...

(You know you're in for a treat when a story starts with the line 'Speaking of hookers...')

Really, though, speaking of hookers, after my singing class Monday, a group of us went down the street for a drink. One of the guys told a story about his long gone college days at UCLA. He said that when he was living in Los Angeles, he answered a classified ad and found himself living with a Jewish hooker.

It's a great anecdote, actually. It involves a friendly rivalry between two of the hooker's clients, Irv and Artie. It involves a naked hooker who spent her days at a typewriter, clicking out the story of her life. It even involves an attempted suicide through hanging.

Most importantly, however, it involves a Jewish hooker. This almost always garners the same reaction: "There are Jewish hookers?"

Having dated a Jewish girl for two and a half years, I feel as if I'm entitled to make all sorts of jokes about what Jewish hookers might and might not do. Out of a sense of propiety, I shall refrain. Feel free to construct your own humorous observations, using the words 'menorah,' 'chuppah,' and, of course, 'shmeckl.'

It almost writes itself, this thing.

Remember my sock sutuation? Well, until last week, it had been growing even more critical than before. It's become a struggle to find a sock that does not have at least a little hole somewhere on it.

I am at Sock DefCon 3.

My mom, lovely lady that she is, immediately took action when I informed her that her oldest son's feet were not being completely protected by his footwear. She called me on Saturday to inform me that she was at the Warehouse Club, purchasing stir fry vegetables and socks. She wanted to know if I needed anything else.

Socks and stir fry vegetables. Does anyone need anything else? Anything above that is just greed, plain and simple.

Yesterday, at work, she asks me: "Did you try on the socks I bought you?"

I wanted to say: "Yeah, I tried them on. I wasn't really sure whether to keep them, so I had a few friends over to give me an objective opinion. They say that they made my ankles look a little fat. Can you please return these now smelly socks that have been on my feet to the store?"

Instead, I said: "Um...not yet."

Not that I am an ungrateful, smart ass bastard of a son. Far from it. She was asking me because she wanted to buy me more, and wanted to see first whether I liked them.

They're nice socks, too. Gold Toes. Three bucks a pop, eighteen dollars a bag.

How sweet can a mom get? Nothing but the best for her son and his Special Feet.

And now, off to work.