My Life with Jenna Bush

What's it like to be married to the booze-friendly, party-ready Bush twin? A vision

(And yes, it's a humor piece, not a report. Oh puh-lease.)

This is so worth reading. Some excerpts:

I got her trained just right. She brings me a steady supply of cold Bud Lights while I chill on the La-Z-Boy watching the Nationals game on the plasma. Here's a funny: After any home run, I'll down whatever's left of my beer and suck in a big mouthful of air and then belch her name really, really slowly and blow it right in her face. "Oh my God that is so gross!" she squeals, and then totally cracks up and makes that funny snorting noise and goes to get us both another beer. Man, I love being married.

And that was just the honeymoon night. No, no, I kid the royal couple.

Grandpa Bush pumps my hand in greeting and keeps winking at me and won't let go for like, two minutes solid. So weird. Grandma Barb always wearing that massive teal muumuu -- looks like a cross between Bea Arthur and Dame Edna and a giant leather ottoman. "You keep an eye on our little Jen, she can be a handful!" Like I don't know.

El. Oh. El!!!!!! (that's adult cool for lol)

...Bush 41 always griping about how badly his kid screwed it up, makes Bush 43 mope and whine until Grandma B smacks him with a rolled up Wall Street Journal and tells him to "shape up." Sorta pathetic. JB just rolls her eyes, sneaks off to swipe more tiny bottles of Tanqueray from the pantry.

Okay, okay, one more. But just one...

...I'm telling Laura about Jen's new Brazilian wax job that spells out "Obama '08." Except she misspelled it as "Osama." Whoops.

Go. Read. NOW! It's soooo good!!!!