Passably humorous palaver about parents and teenagers -- the hair, the telephone, the lovelife, clothes, the works. Isolated lines have a frayed charm and keep you reading on: ""If the good Lord had meant for you to wear bell bottoms, he'd have flared your ankles."" But they're few and far between the snappy Roz Russell retorts and the strained banterings. A mini-amusement based on that non-existent stereotypical kid.