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I want to strangle her—and I've only been here for two hours. How can someone you love so much drive you so crazy?  No guy I've dated has managed to piss me off as much as Mom.

When I got here, I let myself into the house and found her hunched over lugging this big-ass ficus tree across her living room. Immediately I said, "Oh my gosh, Mom, let me help you."

The Butterfly Vibrator is so cute and dainty—so who would have thought it'd pack such a powerful flutter. Ahhhhh. I'm still glowing from all those friendly aftershocks. I feel more relaxed than I have in weeks.

Funny thing: the butterfly’s five speeds took me back to a blind date with Tony three years ago. We went to a tapas restaurant in Old Town Alexandria where the food was awesome. And the date was going pretty well until the live music started. The band was fine, but the music was so loud that we couldn't hear a word we were saying to one another. The lack of conversation was a bit awkward, but then Tony decided to take advantage of the long tablecloth and communicate with a game of footsie.

Whoa. I thought interventions were for alcoholics, drug addicts, anorexics and gambling addicts. As I was packing my weekend bag for Mom's, there was a knock at the door. Who could possibly be at my door at 10:30 p.m. on a work night?  I was a little freaked, but I should have known. I looked through the peephole and there they were. They had me cornered — I could avoid them no longer.

Stacey had her face right up to the peephole with a big grin, while Jennifer and Kelly stood behind her with their hands on their hips. "Let us in," they shouted in unison. "We know you're in there!"

Why oh why did I promise Mom I'd drive home for her casino-night party? I’m so sick of traveling. I want nothing to do with a plane or a car. But she laid on the guilt thick. And I lapped it up, like the good little Catholic/Jew that I am.

Yes, there's the intrigue of Dylan. Well, sort of. It’s hard to get too excited about meeting Ethel’s son. But the real reason I'm driving home to Queens is because I feel sorry for Mom. It's the first time she's throwing one of these shindigs since Dad ran off with his young, busty secretary. Could that be more clichéd? That rat bastard.