Last week I asked if you thought we had a “boy problem” in the United States, as reflected in lower educational scores, higher arrest rates, and a higher suicide rate, amongst other statistics. Thirty eight percent of you think that we definitely do, and I agree. As the mother of a young son in school, I think that the commenters who pointed out that our current education system is not set up particularly well to teach boys were absolutely right.

Don’t get me wrong, I agree with all the steps that have been taken to advance girls as being necessary. But it is different when an institution in which kids spend twelve or thirteen years attending favors one sex. And at the moment, that sex happens to girls. A better balance needs to happen.

As for today’s question, I will include you in a debate I was having with a friend of mine. We both had been jocks in high school, making varsity and wearing our letterman’s jackets proudly. She was talking about her daughter, and lamenting that she didn’t think she was “sports” oriented, and that maybe she would like cheerleading, which she didn’t consider a sport.

What about you?

What can you say to a woman who buys her 18-year-old daughter Botox injections to take care of “wrinkles,” and who’s spent another £45,000 on surgery to beautify herself?

Nothing except perhaps: not enough. Not nearly enough.

Last week I wanted to know how you were doing in these uncertain times, and a disheartening number of you are not doing as well as you would like. I’m truly sorry for that, and all we can hope for is that the economy turns around soon. Which, unfortunately, may or may not happen. The Glinda household is holding the line for now, which is as good as can be expected.

Today I want to find out what you would do if your (possibly hypothetical) fifteen year old daughter was caught in a compromising position.

Could anything be more suitable to our crazy, mixed-up, yet always wryly knowing yet nevertheless optimistic for whatever kooky reason world than these, the sayings of American novelist Kurt Vonnegut, presented in motivational poster form. Hang one in your disaffected teen’s room today!

So much more effective than yet another red, white and blue “There’s no ‘I’ in Team America!“

“My name is Tiffany and I’m a recovering texter.”

“Hi Tiffany.”

It starts off with just a few, and then before they know it, they just can’t stop. Ever.

You can usually tell by the blank expression.

They can be sitting in a restaurant, at the library, or even lounging in a corner of your own home.

They’re everywhere.

They’re teens, and they’re texting.

Now I remember when I was a young tween/teen. I had to dial a rotary phone with the click, click, click, click uphill both ways and in the snow. But seriously, all I wanted to do was talk on the phone to my friends. It was the dark ages before call waiting, and any and all phone calls were subject to the whims of other family members. Not to mention the fear of having a parental unit or sibling pick up a phone in another part of the house and have themselves a nice little eavesdrop.

I think perhaps in my late teens my parents reluctantly paid extra for call waiting, but I was under strict instructions to ALWAYS answer the other line, and if they found out someone they knew was trying to call and I didn’t click over, I was in a world of trouble.

But this generation?

Their cellphones give them all access, all the time. There is nowhere that they cannot connect with their friends, and when it would be deemed otherwise rude to talk out loud to their friends, they simply text. Even while sitting right next to each other. Like I said, you can always tell by the blank expression. Then, just look down at their hands, and those thumbs will be going for all they are worth, poor little things. I worry that young people will have an epidemic of carpal tunnel syndrome, I really do.

Having friends is great, but is all this texting too much of a good thing?

Take this young teen, who in one month sent 14,528 text messages. Her father would have received a 440 page bill, but thank goodness the provider decided to save some trees. He also worked out that she would have been texting every two minutes a day to reach a number that high, although it does includes texts received as well as sent. Luckily, the family was signed up for unlimited texting.

But still, I fail to see any type of silver lining there.

I think the lesson here would be to not sign up for unlimted texting, and have them pay for any overages. This age group is not particularly known for their restraint and self-control, so let’s stop being enablers and cut off their access to the texting crack. Because dude, texting is whack.

Well, it doesn’t quite have the same ring, but you know what I mean.

We took a trip down perfume lane last week, as I described the first four fragrances I tried as part of the Sephora Sampler. Out of 10, I can only pick 1. Decisions, decisions. But will the next six scents make the choice difficult, or will I give them barely a second sniff? And for the record, I do not have “dry” skin that would make it difficult for any of these scents to last. The perfumes I currently own last until the next day unless I’ve showered. And there goes probably TMI.

Stella McCartney, Stella

You know a perfume is not for you when you get into your car, and your nose is hit by a smell that is not entirely unfamiliar. I kept wondering where the menthol smell was coming from, and then I realized it was my perfume. Automatic disqualification when your expensive perfume is reminiscent of Vicks Vap-o-Rub, and I’m guessing the Vicks actually lasts longer, too. This scent is rated very highly, so perhaps it just doesn’t work with my body chemistry.

Gwen Stefani, L.A.M.B.

I’m all for Love, Angels, and Music, Baby, but this stuff reminded me more of dried roses than anything else. Hardly hip or edgy. More like potpurri and grandma-y. And it lasted the shortest time out of all the fragrances. Which for once was a good thing.

Calvin Klein, euphoria

Back in the late 80′s, I wore Calvin Klein’s Obsession, well, obsessively. I thought it was a great scent and I was thinking that if I liked Euphoria even half as much, well then it was a shoo-in for the semi-finals. Sad to say, this perfume evoked nothing like euphoria in me. It went on nicely at first and I really liked the top notes, but the bottom notes were unimpressive.

Marc Jacobs, Daisy

Daisy started off very promisingly. It was light and refreshing, a perfect day scent. However, just a few hours later, I couldn’t smell anything anymore. Unfortunately, I require my scents to last and Daisy was nice, but this pretty scent has a half-life that is far too short for me.

Bvlgari, Omnia Crystalline

A beautiful, soft, sensual scent. I liked it and everyone else I shoved my arm at liked it, too. However, I’m looking for a day scent for when the days get warmer, and this is definitely an elegant “date” perfume. I’m sure my son’s kindergarten teacher would appreciate how nice I smell when I volunteer in the classroom, but this stuff is wasted on a bunch of five and six year olds.

Aquolina, Pink Sugar

As I like sweet scents and don’t mind smelling like food, I had high hopes for Pink Sugar. And true to its name, you definitely smell like you have been rolling around in sugar cookie dough. However, it has absolutely no staying power and I found it overly cloying for my taste. Very girly, and I think I’m a little old for girly.

So which one am I picking?

If I was going for a dramatic scent for special occasions, the Bvlgari would have been the top choice. However, I need this for every day wear. So, by a large margin that surprised even me, the LAVANILA Vanilla Grapefruit will soon be making its way into my hot little hands. Yay for new perfume!

Remember this album cover? Well, Spencer Elden, the former baby who has kindly recreated the photo, is now seventeen!

Feeling a bit old, are we? I know that flannel shirts are trendy again, but please, let’s keep them where they belong, wadded up at the bottom of a closet along with our college sweatshirt.

To be honest, I never liked the grunge movement or Nirvana. Although I really dig the Foo Fighters, so go figure. But, this cover meant nothing to me as a result of my Nirvana dislike.

And a tidbit from EW says:

Elden’s babe-baiting repertoire is apparently fairly limited: He is quoted in the article as saying that he has to use “stupid pickup lines like, ‘You want to see my penis … again?”

Kurt would be proud.

Do you miss the feeling of that umbilical cord?

Would you like to be able to control your teen, even when they are miles and miles away?

Does the thought of annoying them to no end fill you with a perverse sense of pleasure?

Then the new Ford MyKey might just be for you. You see, MyKey is short for “I used to be a teenager myself, I know exactly what you are doing in that car!” Well, the press release didn’t say that exactly, but here at the Manolosphere, we are granted some poetic license. And trust me, teenagers are going to want a poetic license more than a driver’s license when they find out what MyKey does. Or more specifically, what MyKey doesn’t allow them to do.

Does your teen enjoy thumping around the neighborhood, shaking everyone’s windows to the bass line of the new Rihanna tune? Sorry, MyKey only allows the stereo to go up to 44% of its volume.

Does your teen hate buckling those pesky seat belts? No stereo for you!

Do they love to feel the wind in their hair as they drive around town? Well, they had better find a maximum of 80mph’s worth of wind enjoyable, or they’re out of luck.

Just think, by the time the Munchkin is ready to drive in about ten years, technology will have advanced to the point where I can beam a hologram of myself into the car and boom over the speakers, “Stop it this instant, young man!”