Tuesday, November 30, 2010

All Hail My Genius! or, It Must Be Idiot Night On Jeopardy!

After an afternoon that involved light-saber fighting, second grade math homework, and teaching my children to make waffles (it was breakfast-dinner night), my IQ was hovering around 65. Technically, I was functional. To my knowledge, I was not drooling upon myself or suddenly incapable of tying my shoes or doing the US Weekly crossword puzzle, but I was definitely a little dull around the edges (the martini during math likely didn't help). Once the kiddos were tucked into bed, I decided it would be in my best interest to sharpen my mental pencil with a little help from Alex Trebek. It was time for a little Jeopardy!

(Side note: Hey! The Grinch just came on-- the old school cartoon Grinch. That's awesome. I, too, have a heart that's two sizes too small. I also hate Whos and would rather have a dog than a reindeer. But I digress.)

I settled in to watch Jeopardy! in my pajamas (with a lovely glass of Merlot--the martini had worn off) and sized up my television opponents carefully-- an anemic-looking Emo chick named Allie (whose anecdote was a ridiculously pointless story about using a hair dryer in France), an old dude in a red shirt named Tom, and the champion, who was so unremarkable that I can't even remember his name, only that he had exceptionally large ears and he kept giving the camera what I like to refer to as "seductive eyebrows," which is kind of a sexy little eyebrow wiggle that can either look suggestive or like a nervous tic, depending on how it's executed. (Please note that his was more of the nervous tic variety.) I was feeling confident. Even with 14.5% alcohol content coursing through my veins, I could kick these losers' asses.

Then the question board was filled. The categories included "Name That Country," "G-roceries," and "Massachusetts Symbols." My first thought was, "Shit. I'm going to SUCK at this board. And when Emo Allie beats me at Jeopardy!, I'm going to be PISSED." (My second thought was, "Who comes UP with this BULLSHIT? These categories BLOW GOATS. ") All the questions appeared on the board, and the nerdfest began.

But hark! (I used "hark" specifically in honor of the season. Please recognize and appreciate this for a moment.) You won't believe what happened. I. Knew. Every. Freakin. Answer.

No joke. I fucking mopped the floor with those fools.

Now, I'm damn good at Jeopardy! (Most of the time.) (Side note: It's KILLING me to use all these fucking exclamation points, as I HATE exclamation points. I love capital letters, but that's irrelevant. However, I feel the need to represent Jeopardy! correctly, and in reality, it does indeed end with an exclamation point. I felt the need to point this out in case anybody thought I was being overly enthusiastic--which is not the Haley way--rather than grammatically correct.) However, I am not Rainman. I do not mutter every answer in its full and perfect form under my breath while counting cards and demanding to change the channel to The People's Court. Yet somehow this time the stars aligned and I became the JEOPARDY! MASTER. I was still in full glory when Double Jeopardy! began. I didn't end up with a perfect score at the end, but I still did pretty damn well. (I shall now neglect to discuss how Final Jeopardy! was a question in the category SPORTS, the answer was something about a Canadian hockey team, and I missed it, subsequently losing all of the theoretical thousands I had raked in during my Jeopardy! massacre because I theoretically BET IT ALL. You heard me, I DO NOT BACK DOWN. I BET IT ALL, BITCHES.)

All this begs the question: "Am I that brilliant, or was it Idiot Night on Jeopardy!?" (It also begs the questions: "Does Merlot make me smarter?" and "What, exactly, the hell was Alex thinking with that black suit and tie and green shirt tonight?")

The answer? That remains to be seen. But for a girl who has never been to Massachusetts, yet got every single Massachusetts Symbols question right, I'm feeling pretty damn intelligent this evening.

Yes, indeed.

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