Would that make me a MILF? (Please God)

I am still putting off writing about New York because I have a test tomorrow and I don't have the time to truly discuss my vacation. However, I wanted to share this little tidbit with you.
This weekend The Art Institute had a portfolio day for aspiring young artists to show their portfolios to art schools across the country to get feedback. I was there for moral support with Lindsay who is applying to graduate art programs. Most of the other people there, however, were applying for undergraduate. Fresh faced youth hoping to really make it in the art world. Actually, when I say fresh faced, I actually mean, incredibly greasy and unkempt faced. Maybe I am jsut getting old, and if my mother actually read this blog she would say, "SEE! I've always been right!" But I don't understand how these kids can go to a semi-professional showing of their art in sweatpants. Yeah yeah, I know they are artists, but come on. Sweat pants? To talk to someone at a college you hope to go to? I'm not talking about the artsy funky dressed kids. Just the slovenly ones. And I don't know how any parent would accompany their child to this event and allow them to wear the things I saw them wear. Anyway, the lines to see some of the schools were incredibly long and one school which Lindsay was particularly interested in, The Rhode Island School of Design, had an insanely long line. So I offered to wait while Lindsay talked to some other schools. So I was standing in line and there was a woman sitting down in a chair next to the line.
Me: Long lines, huh?

Woman: Yeah, I had no idea it would be like this. I told my daughter to just call me when she got to the front of the line.

Me: Yeah, that sounds like a good plan. I'm holding a place for someone myself.

Woman: This is just chaotic.

Me: Uh huh.

Woman: So are you here with your son?

Me: Uhhh...Um. No. Uh, Just a friend.

Woman: Oh

...

...
Me: Do I look old enough to have a child going to college?

Woman: Well, you never know. Kids these days, having children so young.

Me: Right, I hear ya. (Cause I know a lot of 7 year olds who have children these days. It's an epidemic.)

I mean, really? She couldn't have said, "Are you applying to school?" I know I didn't have a portfolio, but come on. Do I really look like I could have a 17 year old? Really? Really? All I am saying is I am throwing out whatever sweater outfit I was wearing that day because I must have inadvertantly dipped into my mom-sweater stash. (There is also the question of why she assumed I had a son and not a daughter, but I'll just assume she is nuts. That solves all these questions.)

Oh and by the way, Lindsay's stuff kicks ass. Big Ass.