Sometimes Clay Aiken...

...tried so hard to stay in the closet until the world made fun of him enough, he decided to come out.

Yes, Clay came out and said he was gay. For some that may be a shock. If you are one of those people "in shock," you are probably 65 and a HUGE fan of his. You probably still use the term "gay" meaning happy and you probably have friends with the first name of "Gay" or other various forms of it.

Regardless, irregardless, whatever, I'd just like to say that Clay shouldn't have come out and announced his sexual preference. Now that the mystery is gone, he is going to fall into non-celebrity oblivion. Let me explain: since he is officially gay, we can't really tease him about it anymore. So really, what's the point of talking about him?

Bad move, Clay. I've practically forgotten you already. Or maybe that's what he wants?

Love,
Jenna

Sometimes google...

...does funny things. For example, I'm happy to announce that if you google "Can you eat hot pockets if you are pregnant?" my blog appears as one of the results.

For the person who asked that question, maybe the real question should be, "Should anyone eat hot pockets, ever?"

Think about it.

I can't write hot pocket jokes because they will NEVER compare to Jim Gaffigan's hot pocket jokes, ever.

Oh what the heck...

What seriously, what would happen if you ate a hot pocket when you were pregnant?

Would your baby suffer from childhood obesity at birth?

Would he/she be born drinking a 64 ounce jug of coke and reading the latest issue of National Enquirer?

Would he/she develop a habit of entering gas station convenience stores without shoes?

Would he/she be born with a burnt tongue?

Or...maybe hot pockets are the cure for autism.

Who knows?

Love,
Jenna

Sometimes I get a gob, I mean...

...A JOB!

As of today, I am the newest Production Assistant at The Daily Show with Jon Stewart.

For real.

Love,
Jenna

P.S. Did I mention how excited I am?

Sometimes I'm a hazy shade...

...of ugly.

When I woke up this morning, I looked as though death was imminent. Most likely, I'll be ok, I think. But I don't have health insurance right now so I'm just going on my own self diagnosis which has at times been wrong. Last month I was sure I was dying of a brain infection because all day long, I could only smell rubber. I later discovered that the smell was coming from a the new makeup foundation I was using on my face. I've since stopped using it and the smell is history except for the foundation's residue left behind on my powder. Phew. Brain infections can be rough so I feel like I dodged a bullet this time.

My grey complexion got me thinking: what if didn't have a face?

Then the thought quickly moved to, what if I lost my ability to taste?

(shutter)

Or what if my fingers disappeared and were only little nubbies?

Even worse, what if I COULD taste but my mouth's opening were pea-sized and my nubbies made it impossible to put what little food I could in there anyway so I was forced to drink from a straw all the time and my digestive system works as poorly as it does now which means I still couldn't eat dairy products forcing me to consume dairy free Jamba Juice all the time? (It's just not as good!) And still no milkshakes?

Sometimes living without dairy is like living minus delicious. (I know I've written of this before, but I just feel like it needed to be emphasized again for a moment.)

I wonder if you are wondering why I looked so scary this morning. Well I didn't sleep much last night. I'm fairly sure I had a fever most of the night. (Fairly sure because I can never tell. That whole feeling the face to see if it's warmer than usual trick seems fake to me. Seems just as unreliable as WebMD but WebMD is more fun.) Anyway when I have a fever or a cold or the sun goes down or people are breathing somewhere, I have a hard time sleeping.

Last night I chilled in bed most of the night, wide awake, thinking a lot of crazy thoughts. I tried to take NyQuil which never works and, in fact, does the opposite and leaves my mind racing and my body relaxed. Yes, I still try it occasionally just in case it decides to put me to sleep one day.

So one of my major thoughts was a name change. I think I should be the next famous JK. JK Jones. Or just "JK." Let's imagine what that might be like:

JK a.k.a. Jenna walks down the street, minding her business when she sees a lost dude.

JK: Hey, who are you?

Anonymous and Attractive Boy/Man: Oh I'm new to NYC. And I'm totally lost and totally straight.

JK: Oh, really? How interesting! (JK laughs.) Well, I'm Jenna but you can just call me...JK.

A&A Boy/Man: Wait, I can't call you?

JK: No, no, I mean, my name is JK, you can call me JK.

A&A Boy/Man: So you are just kidding about me calling you?

JK: NO, my name is, ugh, whatever. Stupid acronyms. Text messaging has ruined my life.

End Scene.

So it turns out that changing my name perhaps isn't the best idea after all. Made more sense at 3 AM.

Writing this blog post hasn't made my hazy shade of ugly any better but it has made me grateful that I have fingers instead of nubbies. Maybe some new clothes would help my state of being right now.

Or maybe a new diagnosis on WebMD and some Diet Coke?

Brain infection, please, that's so common. I'm aiming much higher than that.

Symptom checker, here I come. Watch out.

Love,
Jenna

Sometimes I get colds...

...in September.

I hate the September head cold. It's a bad omen for the winter months to come.

Love,
Jenna

Sometimes I wish I was a TIVO...

...because I need to record the following three moments in time.

1. Dinner at the Palin household which I imagine (but would like confirmed) goes a little something like this:

Sarah: Where's Bristol?

Mr. Sarah: Oh, she's out with her boyfriend again.

Sarah: They better not be fooling around. He knows I never miss a shot and I'm not talking about basketball, don't you know?

Mr. Sarah: Did you hear that your brother-in-law tasered Junior?

Sarah: WHAT? Well I'll be darned, that man is a menace. I told her shouldn't marry him but she couldn't resist his big fat trooper salary. You know, he didn't even vote for me. I'm gonna get someone on the phone about this. Track! Track, stop feeding your moose stew to the dog. Your grandpa killed that moose for you. We don't get lots of meese like this all the time.

Fade Out. End Scene.

I typed that whole scene with a Minnesotan accent in my head. Do Alaskans sound like Minnesotans? I don't even know.

2. The Cheeto Factory: I'd record the secret employee who adds the "secret ingredient" to Cheetos to finally prove to the world that they are made with a dash of crack; cheese flavored, orange colored crack.

3. Sunday Afternoon Replay: I'd record the pigeon poop incident that occurred on West 4th St. last Sunday afternoon and I'd watch that recording over and over again until I could figure out which pigeon it was exactly who pooped on my arm and then I'd find that pigeon, probably somewhere in Washington Square Park dealing drugs (the pigeon, not me), and I'd punch that pigeon in the face. Somebody call PETA! (Every time I hear about PETA in the news, I crave a gyro.)

For real, wouldn't it be weird if we could record anything we wanted with our minds and then play the recording back on a screen with our mind projector? Why isn't that a special power on Heroes? Was that a spoiler? Alert! Was it?

No. It wasn't.

Love,
Jenna

Sometimes babies are born...

...on Saturday at 7:40 PM. Welcome to the world Oliver Thomas Jones! Jaclyn and Cameron have finally brought forth a boy into the mix and it only took 8 hours. Go Jaclyn! I am so excited to meet my first nephew, Olly. He is one good looking dude.

Congratulations JacCam. Update your blog already...

:)

Love,
Jenna

Sometimes Skittles...

...if eaten too quickly, can leave one with a very sore jaw. I wouldn't know. That's just what I heard and I thought I would share with you.

So next time you want to eat a package of skittles in less than five minutes, remember you could potentially sprain your jaw (and burp the rainbow).

Don't say I didn't warn you.

More life lessons coming soon.

Love,
Jenna

Sometimes people don't realize...

...how important I am.

For your information, dear readers, I have not one, but TWO, official, self proclaimed i-fans. (Please refer to past post in order to understand and familiarize yourself with that term.) There are people, who I don't have to pay, kiss, date, abuse, or be born from, who read my blog. They CHOOSE it and they like it.

The new i-celeb status is absolutely going to my head. Like, today, I was like walking down the street and it totally started raining and I'm like, dur, how dare you, uh, rain? (When you are a celebrity, all sentences end as a question, regardless of what you are saying, duh?)

So anyway, now that I am only a few letter's away from partying like a D-lister with Kathy, I am super excited to share a few non-optional things I expect from any and all who I may interact with.

1. Hanging out with me will always feel like a party and you would never go to a party empty handed, would you? I didn't think so. Most gifts will be accepted unless of course I don't like it in which case I will take it anyway and sell it at my family's annual yard sale extravaganza, because I'm down to earth like that.

2. Never wear sandals in my presence. I don't want to stare at your toes. No one does.

3. Heavy breathing or milk breathe will not be tolerated along with anyone who watches The View and enjoys it. Oh and the hosts of Good Things Utah, put them on The List of Intolerable Nouns as well.

4. Refrain from mentioning my overactive sweat glands or else I will lock you in a room with a mariachi band or Dakota Fanning. Which is worse, I haven't decided.

5. Don't take offense if I choose dinner with Miley Cyrus over you. It's not personal. She's a millionaire, I'm scared/jealous of her empire, and her face is on everything at WalMart, what do you expect?

6. Try not to look me in the eyes, wear the color white on Tuesdays or eat anything in front of me without asking if I want some first. Never wear t-shirts with horses on them. That's more of a general life rule. That goes for unicorn t-shirts as well.

I was so meant for fame. Oh and I'm also taking applications for a personal intern. I can't offer payment at first although I always have a large candy stash. You can have all the red starbursts you want. I like those the least.

The time has finally come when I can lose my sense of humor and start acting like the sale at Bloomingdale's is actually a legit sale. Before long, I'll have my own perfume line at Walgreens called "Love Cloud." After that, I'll start my own religion based on Ninjas. Then I will adopt babies illegally and name them after objects in my purse. Lastly, I'll run for president. Experience seems overrated these days anyway so why not try?

Love,
Jenna

Sometimes I don't do anything...

...and I get paid for it!

Psych.

I'm just dreaming, again.

Love,
Jenna