MC Marky Mark

I am really lucky to have the same close friends I had in college. However, I'm learning this has both pros and cons.

The cons include them knowing where all the bodies are hidden, so to speak. They knew me during my formative collegiate years, when I experimented (unsuccessfully) with things like fashion, and they now revel in sharing those stories with my son. Who can't get enough of them, of course.

Mark's current favorite story involves an unfortunate clothing choice my friends have dubbed the "MC Hammer pants." They were part of a set, really, a pink sweatshirt with matching sweatpants. The sweatshirt was emblazoned with a large Italian flag, while the pants sported the word "Firenza" spelled out vertically down one pant leg. Oh, and the pants also had a little extra flair -- they were jodhpurs, which meant they flared out theatrically on top (hence the MC Hammer reference). They were my favorite pair of pants, and I wore them more often than I should have. (Even once was too often!)

(It should be noted for the record that my cousin Kathleen had a similarly stunning sweat-pantsuit. Hers just didn't have the jodhpur feature mine did.)

I laugh along with my friends when they tell the story about my MC Hammer pants, because really, what the hell was I thinking??

Like I said, Mark has fully embraced this story. And he has learned how to work my iPod. So he couldn't wait to play a little song for me this weekend.

"Hey Mom, I've got a surprise for you!" he shouted from the dining room. He was grinning like a fool when I entered the room, and quickly hit play on the iPod.

"U Can't Touch This" filled the room, and I watched as my son slid, danced and shimmied across the floor in what he assumed was Hammer's signature side-dance move. I could barely contain myself, laughing uncontrollably.

"Hey Mom, you wanna get your pink pants?" he taunted. He grabbed his knees and moved his hands back and forth across in some crazy dance move.

And so now I have my very own theme song. I swear, Mark played that damn song every time I entered the dining room this weekend. I always wanted a signature song, but I envisioned something more regal (a la "Hail to the Chief").

Instead, I'm saddled with a 20-year-old bad rap song. And the memory of pink jodhpur sweatpants to go with it...