....so don't call me madam. Or ma'am. So help me Hannah; I know I've reached a certain age (as the French so delicately put it around their mouthfuls of escargot), but must I be reminded?
I take one class a semester at the university here in my home town. This term it's The Sociology of Humor, the first class was this evening, and I'm going to love it. During the initial class, the prof warned that humor involves language and other things some folks find offensive. As an example, he used the F-word, and said it was hard to give this talk when he had an 80 year old grandma sitting in the front row. I made the mistake of laughing and saying, "I'm a grandma!" He pointed out that I didn't look 80 (therefore he lives on) and the class moved forward.
At one point he mentioned some of his favorite comics, and George Carlin came up. I love Carlin, the man is a god, and I said so. After class, one of the other students, probably mid-to-late 20s, said he was a big fan of Carlin's, and we got to chatting. He said if I liked Carlin, I might like another comedian named Eddie Izzard.
Now, it so happens that Eddie is currently my screensaver, flitting about the screen in a fairy costume and dangling cigarette, so we had a serious bonding moment here. I was feeling very warmly toward this obviously brilliant young man of exceptional taste. And then it happened. He called me "ma'am!" He actually said that word several times.
Have I really come to this? How did I become a ma'am? I'm fairly cool; I listen to kids, I watch Jon Stewart and I have a good sense of humor. I don't care what you heard. I don't mind being shown respect...adulation is better, but I like respect....but ma'am???
I may need to go disco dancing, or talk to my pet rock, to get past this. I'll check my mood ring and let you know how I'm doing.