OK, so I'm a big wuss

So, I hear that plenty of folks have had colonoscopies, and it's not a big deal. (I confess; my real name is Pussy McWhinesalot.

Seriously, though, I cannot fathom 17 hours with no food. Thanks to Badger for the lemon jello and Manichewitz soup suggestions; I would not have found those on my own.

Friends of the world? Does anyone have any other suggestions to stave off my horrific, monstrous hunger, during this fasting time? Rules are: all liquid, nothing red or purple, no alcohol. Popsicles/Italian ice are OK, but not sherbet. (Trust me when I say that I'd gnaw on a cube of 20-year-old dessicated Wyler's chicken bouillon from my mother's pantry if it kept me from hunger, so really, anything will help.)

It's nice and quiet around here tonight. The Man and OG have gone camping, and YG is passed out cold. (Too much vodka and cranberry.) The Mizzou/Texas A&M football game went VERY VERY badly for my beloved Tigers, so I am going to nurse my sorrow with a glass of cold pinot grigio and a movie. (Out of the three of us watching the game over here, only Aggie Dave was happy - in MY HOUSE - today. Stupid Aggie Dave.) I'm not sure if it will be Born Into Brothels or Mysterious Skin tonight, but both await, courtesy of the Netflix gods.

Or maybe I shall immerse myself in the $70 worth of Half Price Books I indulged in tonight. I bought all three volumes of the Simon Schama History of Great Britain set, and I also bought The Tipping Point, because it was cheap and I'd heard so much about it.

Or maybe I'll gorge myself on leftover pizza, like a bear about to hibernate. (Not that bears eat leftover pizza as a general rule, but you get what I mean. Jeez. Picky, picky, picky.)

Happy Saturday evening, loveys!