I Love to Laugh

My peeps! I’ve fallen in love with Twitter this weekend. I know! I wasn’t expecting it. But it turns out I’m even more hilarious in less than 140 characters! So follow me @Jenndola. “Don’t question it, just do it!” (That’s only funny if you’ve seen the SNL Dora the Explorer parody.) Then you’ll be my tweeps. Wow. I kind of hate myself a little bit right now for typing that.     

I’ve learned all sorts of stuff at the Casual Blogger Conference. Some of them I’ll use now. Others I’ll use at a later date, when I have hundreds of followers and I’m worshipped across the blogosphere. Hey, it could totally happen. It could!     

Shut up. You’re all a bunch of jerks. (Please refer your friends to my blog so I can call them jerks, too.)     

Anyway, rather than use up my post today discussing things I’ve learned (which most of you probably don’t care about), I’m going to share some things that amused me this weekend. You know how I love my random pictures.     

I had no idea watermelons flowered after they were cut open.

     

I know, I know. It’s probably a vase. But on first glance, aren’t you wondering why flowers are growing out of a watermelon? Or is that just me?     

Next up…the Hilton’s best-kept secret:     

Why is this even necessary?

     

Really? First of all, why is the hairdryer in a bag? Second, why did the bag have to be labeled? I know, I know. It’s probably in the bag so people don’t think it’s their dryer and steal it. Or to keep the cords contained. Yes, I spent some time thinking about this. No, I don’t have a life. Admittedly, the dryer-in-a-bag is much more convenient than the dryer-attached-to-the-wall-that-I-have-to-be-a-contortionist-to-use. The fact that it needs to be labeled, big and bold, just makes me sad–kind of like how fast-food restaurants have signs that say employees must wash their hands before returning to work. Shouldn’t these things be obvious?     

Finally, my piece de resistance: The bedazzled Snuggie.     

You're jealous, aren't you? You really want that Snuggie.

     

That’s Kristina Pulsipher. She’s the bomb. If you haven’t read her blog, go there now. (“Don’t question it, just do it!” Seriously, you need to watch that clip.) The Snuggie was bejewled by the magnificent Jill Ferrier. Maybe if you give her a lot of money she’ll make one for you, too.     

But probably not. Do you really think you’re cool enough to pull off the bejeweled Snuggie? (Answer: No. No, you are not.)

I am awesome. If I keep saying it, maybe I’ll start believing it.

I’m here at the Casual Blogger Conference learning all sorts of nifty things about how to be even more awesome. (I know, it’s hard to believe that’s possible.)

The really funny thing? This is the first time I’ve had writer’s block. I’ve been blogging daily for over 2 months now, and I haven’t the foggiest what to write.

Suggestions from my roommates:

Amber: Write about your boobs.
Jessica: Write about how lame I am.
Jo: Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Jo is obviously being the responsible adult. The rest of us are…well, okay, we were all sitting here playing Family Feud on Facebook. I think we may have broken some sort of lameness record there. (“What did you do on your fabulous night away from the family?” “Dude! I totally rocked the Family Feud!”

I was invited to go to a karaoke night and I really, really wanted to go…but it was at a bar.

My favorite moment of the evening: someone asked me if it was against my personal code to go to a bar. Hee. I probably should have said yes and left it at that, but of course I have to say “I’m a recovering addict.” For some reason that sounds less pathetic to me than “I’m holier-than-thou and going to a bar would offend the spirit.”

I’m a little concerned as to what that says about me. I’d rather be labeled as someone with serious issues than someone who’s very devout? I’d spend more time worrying about it, but I think I’ll say “That’s just how I roll” and let it be.

This conference is making me feel bipolar. I’m meeting so many wonderful people (I’ll provide links later–tonight I’m too tired) and having a ton of fun. At the same time, the second I’m not connecting with someone, I feel awkward, lonely and out-of-place. This makes no sense to me. Why can’t I cling to the good? Why can’t I say, “I’ve met awesome people. They think I’m equally awesome. Life is good.”

I could get into the whole “I’ve always felt fundamentally flawed” dialogue, but again, really tired. I’m mostly spewing rhetoric at this point, so I need to end this post.

I do want to make a special shout-out to Heather at Extraordinary-Ordinary. Her support and listening ear have been invaluable to me during the last 12 hours. Heather, you are an amazing woman!

I’ll try to be more interesting tomorrow, my peeps. I like that when I type “my peeps” I imagine all of you as rows of marshmallow-y goodness.

Now that I’ve moved into stream-of-consciousness, I really have to stop typing.

Mmmm…marshmallows…