Here's to You, Mrs. Robinson

So I'm skiffing through yesterday's Globe, heading to the horoscopes and Monty comic strip, when I come across this headline: "Mom pleads guilty to hosting sex parties."

Ever the investigative sort, I read on:

GOLDEN, Colo. --A woman who told police she wanted to be a "cool mom" pleaded guilty to sexual assault charges Monday for having sex with high school boys at parties where authorities said she supplied drugs and alcohol.

Silvia Johnson, 40, pleaded guilty to two misdemeanor counts of sexual assault and nine felony counts of contributing to the delinquency of a minor. As part of a plea agreement, prosecutors dropped two counts of distribution of methamphetamine.

"She described herself as a `cool mom,'" Detective R.J. Vander Veen wrote in the affidavit. He said Johnson told investigators "she was never popular with classmates in high school and now began `feeling like one of the group.'"

Prosecutors did not recommend a sentence, but each sexual assault count carries up to two years in prison, and each count of contributing to the delinquency of a minor carries up to six years, district attorney's spokeswoman Pam Russell said.

Johnson, who is free on bail, held parties for the boys almost weekly between October 2003 and October 2004, authorities said. She was accused of providing drugs and alcohol to eight boys and having sex with five of them.

Police said the investigation began after one of the boys told his mother about the encounters, and she reported it to authorities.

All I can say is: Where the fuck were these moms when I was growing up? Of course, yeah, "sexual assault" isn't cool. Blah blah blah. Whatever. When I was fifteen, if some 40 year-old sweet thang with a beer in one hand and a cig in the other wanted to yummy down on me, I would have been all about it.

Sadly, the closest I came to any such hijinks was when my buddy Davey's mother got drunk at our high school graduation and gave me and Finster wet, sloppy kisses, gliding her thick lips and wet moustache across our faces as we recoiled like sick horses.