If you know the answer, and you're over the age of 25, it's OK. 

You're not the only one who drinks from a cup without a lid, has a mortgage and knows all the words to the theme song of "SpongeBob SquarePants." 

Or who waxes poetic over SpongeBob's wonderful qualities. 

"I know this sounds dorky but he is the sweetest creature in the world," says Mary Wells, 52, of New Providence, sighing slightly. 

Or who knows the names of the heroes revered by SpongeBob and his best friend Patrick. 

"Barnacle Boy and Mermaid Man!" says Beth Lopez, 36, of Manheim Township, then murmurs the afterthought, "I don't know if that's healthy." 

Or who can quote your favorite episode. 

"Did you see the Olympics with Patrick?" asks Kirsten Scheurich, 33, also of Manheim Township. 

For all you strangers to the world of Bikini Bottom, it might be too simplistic to explain here that "SpongeBob SquarePants" is a cartoon, broadcast on the Nickelodeon network. 

Sure, its target audience may be 2- to 11-year-olds. And the spongy guy recently passed "Rugrats" to become the No. 1 show in kids' TV ratings. 

But SpongeBob is a phenomenon, an obsession, "must-see TV" for legions of adult fans as well. 

Of the 50 million viewers who watch SpongeBob every month, a surprising 20 million -- including many local residents -- are adults. 

SpongeBob SquarePants is, as his name suggests, a fairly simple guy. He is literally... a sponge. And he wears... square pants. His gap-toothed grin reveals the heart and soul of his character: a boundless joy and enthusiasm. 

His show chronicles SpongeBob's life: his misadventures with Patrick and gal pal Sandy Cheeks, his over-the-top devotion to his job as a fry cook at the Krusty Krab, his never-ending irritation of his neighbor and co-worker Squidward, a clarinet-player and an avid reader of "Martha Stewart Living." 

Count among his adult fans such diverse celebs as Bruce Willis, Jerry Lewis, Tony Bennett, Dr. Dre and Dennis Miller. Allegedly Willis is such a fan that when shooting a recent movie, he would show up on the set chanting SpongeBob's classic refrain, "I'm ready, I'm ready..." 

Julia Louis-Dreyfus, who played Elaine on "Seinfeld," once introduced SpongeBob creator Steve Hillenberg as "the only man I know who is truly sponge-worthy." The show even got a shout-out on a recent "Ally McBeal" show. 

SpongeBob is so popular that SquarePants-themed goods are the best-selling character merchandise at the trendy Hot Topic store at Park City shopping center. 

T-shirts, pillows, shoelaces, pins, sunglasses, even air fresheners sell extremely well if they have SpongeBob's likeness on them, says Erin Aguirre, lead sales associate. 

"(Customers) come in and they just jump right into it. "Did you see last week's episode?' They totally talk all about it, just that it's funny, that it's hilarious," Aguirre says. 

Scheurich and Lopez discovered SpongeBob through their children, watching the show with them. Both are teachers at Wheatland Middle School, where some of their students share their love of SpongeBob. 

Like them, Shawn Lemke, 27, of Lancaster, watches the show with his kids. And he's a teacher, too. But he teaches physics at McCaskey High School, where some of the students consider SpongeBob a little too unsophisticated for their tastes. 

Lemke sometimes starts his class with the traditional SpongeBob opener: "Are you ready, kids?" He once talked about the scientific phenomenon of resonance by comparing it with Squidward's clarinet, "Clarie." 

"I might sing part of the theme song," he adds, laughing. "By now, they're like, "Oh no...' They're moaning. ... There are a few kids who are SpongeBob fans who will talk about it. Other kids will make fun of me." 

Wells and her husband, Terry, discovered the show while channel-surfing one night. It quickly replaced "The West Wing" as their favorite show. 

"We were hooked immediately," she says. 

The adult fans say that, despite its innocence, the show's humor works on a (wholesome) adult level as well as a child's level. 

Wells, a public relations specialist, cites an episode where Patrick tells SpongeBob he has to grow up and do things adults do, such as enjoy "free-form jazz." 

"I don't think kids are going to get that," she says. 

Lemke recalls an episode where SpongeBob and Patrick are pretending to be plants and repeat over and over: "Photosynthesis, photosynthesis, photosynthesis." 

"It takes place underwater and once in a while you see a flame burning underwater," he says. "It's things like that I find hilarious." 

And for a world-weary adult, SpongeBob's naive, cheerful optimism can be refreshing. 

"I love the innocence," says Lopez, who dressed up as SpongeBob for Halloween last year. 

"He's just enthusiastic and sweet and generous and kind and I just love it," Wells says. "There is indeed a magical quality about him." 

Not every adult understands SpongeBob's appeal. 

"I don't watch it," says Dean Scheurich, Kirsten's husband. "My wife likes it, but she likes "Scooby Doo.'" 

Wells laughs and says even she thinks her love of SpongeBob is "a little odd, but we're odd in many ways." 

Lopez doesn't care if other adults get it. 

"I'm not into "Survivor' or "Fear Factor,'" she says, naming two in the recent spate of reality shows. "Forget it. 

"We need something that's good and affirming. It makes me want to say at the end of the day, "Can't we all just live in Bikini Bottom?'" 

Your super low-rise. 

And your ultra low-rise. 

Available under brand names such as "Juicy Jeans" and "Naughty Girl" and being worn by girls as young as middle-schoolers, the snug, bikini-style women's jeans are the latest in a long line of envelope-pushing, conniption-inducing styles that include hot pants, mini-skirts and halter tops. 

The young and the hip (with the emphasis on hip here) love the low-rises. 

But the jeans, popularized by teen idols such as Britney Spears and Jennifer Lopez, are not being warmly embraced by local parents and principals. 

Amanda Bach, 20, a student at Lancaster Bible College, laughs at her father's reaction to the latest jean craze to grip Lancaster County and the hips of countless young women everywhere. 

"My dad says, "Haven't we seen enough of your bellybutton lately?'" 

You can practically hear a principal squirm over the telephone when you mention the pants. 

"The thing that, unfortunately, you look at is the exposed midriff," says Robert Houghton, the principal of Conestoga Valley Middle School. "That's the thing we're judging. We're attacking the midriff distance as much as we can. ... As long as we're not seeing the stomach or undergarments. We don't want to see anything more than we need to." 

With some low-rise jeans that could be a challenge. 

We're talking jeans that hang so low on the hips that there's room only for a 4-inch zipper or a fly with maybe two buttons. 

We're talking jeans with itty-bitty pockets that can barely hold change, much less a set of car keys. 

We're talking special underwear. 

If you're under 16 and we're, say, your mom, we're talking long shirts. Really, really long shirts. 

"They come in with their mothers. They sit outside the fitting room and they carefully monitor. They say, "Bend over.' "Put your arms up.' "You need a longer shirt with that,'" says Erin Donovan, manager of the junior department at J.C. Penney. 

Mention low-rise jeans to Manheim Township Principal Gary Yocum and he sighs and begins quoting the school's dress code: "All clothing must cover the torso and undergarments." 

"We have talked to kids and we do talk to kids about them," Yocum says. 

"When it comes down to school, with all the raging hormones that already are here to begin with, it's not a good message," Yocum says of the jeans. 

Hempfield High School Assistant Principal John Sparmblack says that administrators and teachers at the 2,300-student school probably approach one student a day about low-rises. 

Hempfield, like Township and other schools, asks teens to cover up their bare bellies. If they or their friends don't have a shirt or a sweatshirt, Hempfield has available a supply of old T-shirts that students can don. 

"It's definitely not a fashion statement," Sparmblack says of the office-issued cover-ups. "Typically kids are cooperative. I don't think they're overjoyed, but they're cooperative." 

Parents have mixed feelings about the jeans. 

"I've seen mothers lay down the $30 to buy the jeans and not have a problem," says Mandy Kover, manager of the Rainbow clothing store at Park City. "They make sure the shirt is longer then. I've also had mothers say, "You can't wear them to school.'" 

"They're OK for everybody's daughter but mine," says Linda Johns of New Providence, laughing. 

Laura Weaver of Ephrata, who is shopping at Park City with her 12-year-old daughter, Valerie, says, "Originally, I was like, "No way.'" 

Now, she says, "I don't mind them, if they are appropriate." 

By that she means if a shirt securely covers the top of the jeans. Or if the jeans are not "falling apart." 

Her daughter laughs and notes that she owns a pair with a fraying waistband, a look popularised by pop stars cutting the waistbands off jeans. She likes them because, she says, "When you bend over, they don't get you in the stomach." 

Indeed, many young women say they wear the jeans because they are comfortable. 

"I don't like my pants around my waist. They get all bunchy," says Amy Burkhardt, 18, a Lancaster Bible College student recently shopping at Park City. 

But she acknowledges that the pants take some creative adjustments at times. 

"It's annoying when you sit down and they come down in the back," Burkhardt says. 

Of course, you get no arguments from young men about the trend. 

"I like the look," says Conor Rogers, 18, of Lancaster, whose girlfriend owns several pairs of low-rises. "They accentuate the hips." 

Like them or not, the jeans aren't going anywhere soon. Retailers say they are selling them quickly and ordering more for spring. 

Donovan of Penney's notes that customers come in all ages and sizes. 

"I do have a lot of women who are 25 to 40 buying them," Donovan says. 

The jeans come up to size 13 and women up to size 16 come in asking for them, she says. 

Indeed, Linda Evans, manager of the junior department at Boscov's, says her department sells only a few pairs of jeans that are not low-rise. 

For Evans, the jeans are proof that if you keep something in your closet long enough, it will come back into fashion. 

"This is the stuff I wore in the '70s," Evans says. "My hipster jeans were as low as they are now."