I already feel like an idiot most of the time anyway. With or without a fireman's pole.

Hour Seven of Babysitting My Cousins AKA Project "Won't Somebody Think of the Children?!" and we've already watched:

• Cars
• Spongebob Squarepants: THE MOVIE
• Over the Hedge

and of the three, I'd have to say, Spongebob is the clear winner. As if there were ever any question. Parumph!*

Anyway. Both children have gone to bed so now I'm watching Bridget Jones's Diary for the [fill in unbelievably large number here]** time. I was watching the tail end of Pride & Prejudice as they got ready for bed and as Josh walked by, I believe his exact words were, "WHAT are you WATCHING?" I don't think I can accurately convey the amount of teenage disgust he managed to fit into that one question. But really, can you explain The Darcy to someone who is not afflicted? I think not. Especially not a thirteen-year-old boy.

*I don't know

**Seriously, though? I have seen this movie so many times that I can recite the dialogue along with it. You'd think I'd be ashamed of that, but I'm sharing it with you right now so I guess I'm not. Huh, who knew?

The Todd appreciates hot, regardless of gender.

I started this morning off with a fun-filled trip to the doctor. You really haven't lived until you've had your weight announced in earshot of the waiting room before you've even had your coffee, but oh here's the funny part, you've chosen this week to give up coffee because you don't want to make the reason you're at the doctor's office any worse than it already is. And judging by the killer headache you've had for the past four days, it was probably a good idea to give coffee up now before the addiction got any worse.

This was the first time I've gone to the doctor in . . . I don't know, a long time. Because I don't like to go to the doctor and I'm not one of those people who'll just go to the doctor every year for a "check up." Who does that? Who are you people? I don't understand you. I, like any normal (or whatever) person, don't go to the doctor unless I have something that I cannot cure with an ever-changing mix of denial, ibuprofen, and tequila. Also? At the doctor they make you pee in a cup. Something I hardly ever do at home. I peed on my hand a little. I know. I KNOW. I have no idea why I felt the need to share that with you, Internets, but there it is.

And now I bring you, a Conversation With My Doctor That, OK, Existed Primarily In My Own Head:

Dr: Hi, nice to meet you.
Me: You, too.
Dr: Is your blood pressure normally this high?
Me: Only when I'm in a doctor's office.
Dr: White coat syndrome, huh?
Me: Yeah, heh.
Dr: But otherwise it's normal?
My Head: Oh, god, she thinks I'm a freak and that I'm lying and that my blood pressure is normally 230 over eighty thousand.
Me: Yes, otherwise it's normal.
Dr: Good, good. Any blood in your urine?
My Head: Oh my god, why is she asking me that? We just met! Oh god, I have cancer and she doesn't want to tell me. Why is she dragging this out? Just tell me. "Jennie, you have cancer and have approximately six months to live." I'm going to die single, and alone, and childless, and worst of all, I haven't even become famous yet. Shit.
Me: Um, no.
Dr: Good, well your urinalysis showed that you're very well hydrated.
My Head: Awesome. My goal is to drink eight glasses of water a day. It's fun. Like a game.
Me: Great.
Dr: Are you sexually active?
My Head: What? Can we go back to talking about my urine?
Me: Um.
Dr: So, what do you do for fun?
My Head: Have imaginary conversations with my doctor? Write nonsense in my blog? Um. Drink?
Me: Oh, just . . . hang out with friends. And I like to read.
Dr: Oh, really? That's great!
My Head: Yes. Jennie read good.
Me: Yeah.
Dr: Read anything good lately?
My Head: Besides blogs?
Me: Well, right now I'm reading When We Were Orphans. It's pretty good so far.
Dr: Oh, let me write that down. I'm always looking for new stuff to read. So what's it about?
My Head: Is she testing my mental acuity or something?
Me: It's about this detective in London in the 30's. He's just becoming well-known. And his parents disappeared when he was young, so he's kind of looking into that.
Dr: Sounds great.
My Head: I am boring myself.
Me: It is. It's really good.
Dr: OK, well, everything looks good here, we'll let you know how the tests come back blah blah have a good day.
My Head: Shouldn't we have spent less time talking about books and more time talking about, I don't know, my urine?
Me: OK, great. Good talk.

It's OK, though. She gave me free drugs. When I was a kid, the only thing I got for going to the doctor was a sucker so, hey . . . bonus.

The strawberries taste like strawberries. The snozzberries taste like snozzberries.

So, it's like freakishly warm outside right now. What's up with that? We had our heat on and I got home from work and it felt like an oven (one where the knob isn't on upside-down) or a sauna or, like, I don't know . . . Iraq. You like that? Topical, right? WOW. Anyway.

Completely off-topic, but I think I need to exorcise the words "like" and "um" from my vocabulary. Once I get those out of the way, I can concentrate on the curse words.

Earlier today, I was really bored, so I started feeding different pictures of myself into that myheritage celebrity match-up thingie. What, are you judging me? What do you do when you're bored? Anyway, I need something to fill the time besides blogs, myspace, and craigslist. So, I uploaded a couple different pictures of myself and came up with some repeat offenders. They ranged from young or youngish (Famke Jensen, Elizabeth Hurley, Kate Beckinsale) to old (Mary Tyler Moore, Judy Garland . . . at least they used young pictures, I guess) to WTF (Katherine Heigl aka Batshit Crazy Izzy Who Killed Denny and Now We're Supposed to Like, Feel SORRY For Her from Grey's Anatomy, Audrey Tautou, and I'm gonna go ahead and throw Judy Garland in here because seriously? wtf).

Whatever, Internets! I don't care how much you butter me up, you're not getting any more of my money! Leave me alone, I hate you!

I'm sorry I yelled, Internets. I didn't really mean that. Let's never fight again.

fatty fatty two by four

A little over a year ago, I started doing Weight Watchers because I'd seen how well it worked for Heidi. For those of you not aware of this miraculous system, you're given a set number of points a day (I get 20) and each food is worth a specific number of points. I suppose you could count calories or something, but I find converting everything into points easier. Also, I like being told exactly what I can and cannot eat. It's comforting, like I have parents telling me what to do again. Who would have thought I'd find that comforting someday? Anyway, it actually worked (who knew?) so I continued to do it because buying new clothes when you have no money is OK as long as the new clothes are in a smaller size.

The past couple of months, though, I've been sort of half-assing the whole counting points thing. What happens is I'll be pretty good all week and then the weekend will come around and will make me consume all sorts of bad things, like Wendy's and ice cream and tequila (oh my). The past couple of weeks? I didn't just fall off the Weight Watchers Wagon, I dived off headfirst into a giant, bubbling cauldron of hot fudge and then I swam around in it scooping up marshmallows with my mouth. It was messy.

I don't know what my point is. I don't have one. Other than to say I'm trying to climb back on the wagon, but all the hot fudge kind of dried on my clothes which is making it really hard to move.

This weekend, I'm house/baby/dog-sitting (one house, two children, one dog) for my aunt and uncle while they go with one of my cousins to play in a soccer tournament. My cousins are 10 and 13 so basically I'm there to make sure they don't kill each other and/or set the house on fire. I do believe the last time I watched the two of them was a couple of years ago, and my only memory of that time was my youngest cousin dancing around in his underwear singing, "I love my wiener, I love my wiener," when I was trying to get him to take a shower.

So, yes, I'm expecting some good stories out of this weekend. My youngest cousin is excellent for those. I think I've shared at least one of these before, but I'm too lazy to go back and look so here they are again:

Sammy (youngest cousin): Ow, you hit me in my crouch!
Zach (oldest cousin): Sam, it's not called your crouch, it's your crotch.
Sammy: Oh. Well, I call mine The King!

Aaaaaaaaaand . . .

Sammy: I'm hungry!
Aunt: Well, dinner is almost ready.
Sammy: But I'm huuuuungrrrryyyyyyy!
Aunt: Sam, I said it's almost ready.
Sammy: But my spleen hurts!
Aunt: . . .
Sammy: And my other spleen hurts, too!

I was not present for either of these conversations, but they're told often at family gatherings. Seriously. And don't think Sammy has the market cornered on weird in my family. The other cousin I'm watching? Once asked for chocolate donuts for Christmas. See. Weird. Also, hi, have we met?

I'm just excited that Ohio finally blue itself

So, I went to visit my (Republican) parents earlier this evening:

Mom: What are you doing here?
Me: I was just driving by, so I thought I'd stop in and say hello. So. Hello.
Dad: Oh, I know, she's here to gloat.
Me: No, I'm not!
Dad: Jennie . . .
Me: OK, maybe a little.

Business is like a jungle. And I am like a tiger. And Dwight is like a monkey, that stabs the tiger in the back with a stick.

You know, it's really nice to wake up the morning after Election Day and not feel like crying or punching someone in the face. This is a first for me. I know this will by no means make things perfect, but I am taking a moment to do a little happy dance. OK, I'm done. This pretty much sums up my feelings today.

If your voting high still hasn't worn off, and you want that feeling to last, head on over to Heather Anne's to vote for The Hoagies. Apparently it's a pretty tight race. Which is good. I need something to tear myself away from CNN today.

ETA: And Donald Rumsfeld just resigned?! Is it my birthday*?

*it's not

Proving, once again, that I will do pretty much anything if asked nicely. Or just asked, really.

POOHEAD BUTTSHITS.

You're welcome.

Vote, bitches. Unless you're disenfranchised (sorry). Oh, and vote for the really important election, too. I really think the gold turkeys are going to change the country.

PS: This whole no caffeine thing is kicking my ass. Seriously. It's making me stupider than, you know, I am on any other day.