Talking dirty with my mom.

I went to lunch with my mother, for Mother's Day is Sunday.

While talking to me about jobs, she asked me if I'd done any writing lately.

"I've been writing on a site under a pseudonym," I said. "I've gotten some good buzz from it."

"Why a pseudonym?" she asked me. "Oh, is it gay stuff?"

"Yeah," I said, which is sort of a lie. I write about more than gay stuff. I write about deep, dark family secrets that I don't want her to know I've mentioned in public.

She guessed that my pseudonym was my real initials.

"Do you call yourself B.J. or something?" she asked me.

"Yeah, B.J.," I said. "Because that'd make me really popular with the gay community."

She looked at me and paused.

Then, she asked, "Why would that make you popular with the gay community?"

Long pause. Then, a chuckle.

"Oh ... my ... God ...," she realized, still laughing. "I can't believe you would say that to me."

"But you said it," I said.

Still laughing, she said, "Well, Happy Mother's Day to me!"

Then, she told me she was going to call her assistant as soon as I stepped out of the car and tell her everything.

"She's a lesbian," she said. "So she'll think it's funny."