Self-Amusement is Hereditary

I would never consider myself a comedian by any stretch of the word, but I'd like to believe that I have my moments. Why? Because I am constantly laughing at myself. My mother hated using "send her to her room" as a punishment because I gladly went and always managed to successfully entertain myself... for hours.

What shocked my mother the most, and to her horror, was when at a very young age, I started to tell jokes and would follow the joke with a few minutes of uncontrollable laughter... at myself. Apparently, my father did the exact same thing, as did his father before him. I was aware of my grandfather doing this - his belly and shoulders would vibrate and his face would turn a deep purple while telling a joke; he often couldn't even make it to the punchline. According to my mother, my father was even worse.

This is deliciously amusing for me, since I never met my father.

Take that Nurture -- Nature just smoked your ass!

Every time I come up with something that I personally find utterly hysterical, I'll often share it with my mother, with the usual response consisting of eye rolls and an, "Oh lord! You are such your father's daughter."

I find Twitter/Twitpic is by far the worst for enabling my predisposition to self-amusement - so I'll have to give you a few examples of this genetic flaw talent flaw. I'd really like to think I've done my father proud.

1. I made this caption for the "big non-event". Can you believe I actually found that drawing? Oh, how I love the internet; let me count the ways. Someone pointed out that it's not actually a "raptor" - Want to take a guess on what I say to them? 

Shut the hell up, Ross Geller, Ph.D.! Jesus + Dinosaur = Awesome.

2. Then, one of my tweeps, Melissa (@rockdrool), mentioned that her son is insistent that The Beibs is really named Justin Beaver... so I came up with this t-shirt idea. Double entendres make me giddy - especially when it's me who thinks of them.

3. And finally, A Belle, A Bean & A Chicago Dog did a "Senior Hottie" link up which was a fabulous idea. Unfortunately, due to a conflict of interests and a likely nuclear fallout if I posted my real photo on here, I found a sexy substitute to post on twitter instead. What do you think? HOT! Right? It's the ONLY way to go to prom, truly.

So. Much. Laughing.

I guess the ultimate conclusion is that whether or not anyone actually clicks on my twitpics that I post or not, one this is certain - I'm sitting on the other end, uploading my jokes/photos while LMGDMFFAO*... at myself. 

It is all my father's fault and for that, I'm giggly and grateful.

*Laughing my god damn mutha fukkin' flabby ass off - Watch out, it's totally gonna be the next big acronym!

So much more laughing.