Whereas I went straight to "impregnable" jokes. OMG, y'all, didn't I used to be a grownup? At least once?

I love you so much.

In related news, there was an article in the paper about a woman who's irritated that Facebook won't let her post the name of the town she was born in. The town? Effin ... it's in Ireland.

When JZ was giving birth to Matilda it was my job to count to ten during contractions so she could push. I started counting back from 10 then halfway down I started counting back up again. Doctor looked at me like, "WTF?"

OK, I get it now.

So, Sandusky news, re: his lawyer's faux pas:

The choicest moment: At one point, Amendola discussed the possibility that Mike McQueary witnessed a rape, told Joe Paterno and two university administrators, and no one did anything except tell Sandusky to stay out of the locker room with kids. To anyone who believes that version of events, Amendola said, "I suggest you dial 1-800-REALITY." We did. Here's what we got:

Hey guys, welcome to the hottest place for triple-X action. Get ready for bulging, bursting pleasure with horny gay, bi, and bi-curious studs. Just 99 cents per minute.

Seriously. Call it yourself. We'll have audio for you in a bit.

From deadspin.

Geeez, Sandusky lawyer dude. Oy.

We had our Holiday potluck and White Elephant exchange. I brought ginger cookies and still have half a tin left. They are NOT coming home with me. Might stop by K-Bug's work and let her share them there. Also for the exchange I brought a Bath and Body Works lotion set and stole an Ugly Christmas Vest. All the alcohol was already stolen the requisit number of times, so I figured why not. K-Bug has an Ugly Christmas Sweater party next weekend and now she has something to wear.

I think 1-800- most things goes to porn lines now? I feel like this is something I've read.

Edit: [link] Not most, but a lot.

Well, our corporate lines are 800 numbers. Hopefully no one calls in hoping to get phone sex from me.

I brought ginger cookies and still have half a tin left. They are NOT coming home with me.

Shove 'em through the intertubes!

But in both of their cases, the issue isn't perfectionism, the issue is not wanting to do homework.

Ha! Yeah, I guess that's true for me, too, some portion of the time.

when I failed to count properly to ten

Glad Nora asked, because I was... concerned, let's say.

I just ate a big bowl of pasta with tomato sauce, and I know that tomato sauce gives me indigestion nowadays, but I did it anyway. Dumbass. Was good, though.

The party I went to on Saturday had a White Elephant exchange, but most of us missed the point and brought quite nice gifts. I ended up with a slightly older but still perfectly useful iPod alarm clock dock (that was after I swapped out the Mrs. Santa Claus cookie jar that I couldn't use since I don't eat cookies anymore). My contribution to the exchange was an ornament I had just finished cross-stitching the night before. Turns out my hostess was the one who drew my number, and she was able to add that ornament to the other two I had made for her Christmas gift.

I came home with my iPod dock, the leftover chocolate/peanut butter bark I had brought to the party, and the leftover lemon bars she had made. I'm bringing them into work tomorrow, and probably will continue to do so the rest of the week, at least.

There's a guy at work whose email signature contains a graphic of Santa body slamming a blue-garbed Santa into the ground. There is *no* way that's allowed by company branding guidelines.