What do I, Stacy’s mom, “got goin’ on”? A contentious divorce, for one. It wasn’t just that I found out my soon-to-be ex-husband was paying to be used as a human ashtray by an angular man who goes by Dr. Leather. It was more that he drained $20,000 out of Stacy’s college account to help the good doctor fund his experimental noise rock album. So that’s goin’ on.

What else? I’ve got a schedule packed full of pilates and marathon training. My priority is being Stacy’s mom, but I’m also setting aside time for self-care. At forty-five, I’m in the best shape of my life. And now there is a biblical plague of rock-hard eighth graders swarming my house like locusts.

Here’s something I’ve got goin’ on. A ton of business travel. Listen to this. One of those horned-out goblins from Stacy’s Spanish class had the huevos to ask me whether I was traveling or trying to avoid him. No, young man, I wasn’t “giving you the slip.” While you were crying getting your braces tightened, I was eating suckling pig with the Finnish ambassador at the Four Seasons in Hong Kong, completely unaware you exist as a human. Do you know why? Because I am the Senior VP of Global Finance at a multinational bank, and you are an actual child. A D-student thinking with his D, and from what I hear, a problematic patient at Dr. Rosenstein’s orthodontics practice.

OH! I have a backyard full of blood. That’s another thing I’ve got goin’ on right now.

The other day that freaky little pimple factory broke into my garden shed and started cutting the grass without permission. After clocking a grueling eighty-hour workweek, I was getting undressed for a relaxing bath. I look out the window, and there’s that kid, the one in the terrible little band. Trespassing. He was so distracted gawking at me that he ran the mower right over a squirrel.

I raced out in my towel just as an unholy tempest of squirrel blood rained down on the herb garden my therapist made me plant for stress relief. I had to dig the entire thing up because it is difficult, nay, impossible to savor a mojito when you know the mint leaves were once baptized with the entrails of a medium-sized rodent. I said to the kid, “You missed a spot over there,” referring sarcastically to the single patch of my formerly pristine lawn that wasn’t now marinated in the pulpy viscera of blended squirrel meat. I kid you not, this thirsty, half-formed man larva dared to look me right in the tits and wink at me.

Let me tell you something else about Stacy’s mom and what she has goin’ on. Did you guess, “connections to the Japanese yakuza?” If so, you’d be 100 percent correct. I didn’t want to go here, but I know of one pus-filled dweeb who might need to take a walk through the Tokyo underworld. Maybe he will have second thoughts about fucking with my lawn equipment after having his tongue forked by an absolute psycho named Miyazaki.

I hear what the kids are saying. It’s always “Stacy’s mom has got it goin’ on” and never “Stacy’s mom, what’s goin’ on?” Or how about “Stacy’s mom, how are you today? How are you shouldering the considerable burden of being a single mom with a high-pressure, high-visibility career in a male-dominated field?” Or here’s a thought. How about “Stacy’s mom, I’m so sorry for befouling your pool, eating the food out of your fridge, emotionally abusing your daughter, and writing a song about jerking off in your bathroom?”

So that about covers it. What does Stacy’s mom got goin’ on today? Well, I have to apologize to the Chinese Minister of Finance for being late for our meeting. My Mandarin is impeccable, but I don’t have the vocabulary to explain that I was held up on the phone with a child’s mother explaining that she spawned an unstoppable jizz monster who is no longer welcome in my house. Also, that she owes me $120 for the three silk La Perla thongs her son liberated. So that. That is what I’ve got goin’ on.