I write about nothing of importance, which is important...to me.

Sunday, August 29, 2010

Short and Sweet...Not.

"What's with the age gap hiring policy at most movie theaters? Did you ever notice they never hire anyone between the ages of fifteen and eighty, you know what I mean? Like, the girl that sells you the ticket, she's ten. Then there's the guy who rips the ticket, he's one hundred and two. So, what happened in the middle, there? You couldn't find anybody? It's like they want to show you how life comes full circle. You're fifteen, you sell the tickets. Then you leave, you go out, you have a family, kids, marriage, career, grandchildren, eighty years later, you're back in the same theater three feet away. Ripping tickets. Took you eighty years to move three feet."-Jerry Seinfeld

I worked at a movie theater for almost four years, and while I worked there, customers would comment that they didn't know I could legally work there, since I looked 12. But, I've been told that it's good to look young because then when you're old you'll still look young. I secretly think that whoever's telling me this just says it so that I can feel okay about not looking my age. Who's to say what 24.92 years looks like, anyway?

Okay, let's name off reasons why it's good to look young at my age:

-you can still go trick-or-treating on Halloween without being questioned
-you can still order off the kids meal in restaurants (for those 12 and under only)
-if you're in college, all the other students will point at you and whisper to their friends how you must be a child prodigy who graduated from high school five years early
-you can see PG movies without people wondering why you'd rather see Finding Nemo than The Matrix
-you can live with your parents without anyone questioning it

Okay, now let's name off reasons why it's bad to look young at my age:

-you can still go trick-or-treating on Halloween without question...but you go alone because your friends are all too mature-looking
-you can still order off the kids meal in restaurants (for those 12 and under only)...but when you're on a date with a guy you like, the waitress reports him to authorities for being a pedophile...
-you work at an elementary school like I do, and the principal sees you walking down the hall and asks if you have a hall pass to use the bathroom
-you can see PG-13 movies...but the ticket seller will have to have your guardian's permission before selling you the ticket
-when at a stoplight, the driver in the car over stares at you with their cellphone in hand taking down your license plate number ready to report a stolen vehicle--much like this video

Not only do I have a baby face, but it's kind of a double whammy because I am also short.

Okay, let's name off reasons why it's good to be short:
-you can date any guy without worrying that he'll be shorter than you
-on a plane you can stretch your legs out in coach as if you're in first class
-you have a head rest at the movie theater, while normally, people have to sink into their chair to not block the view of the people behind 'em
-you can be on a soap opera
-you don't have to lean back when you're doing the limbo

Okay, now let's name off reasons why it's bad to be short:
-the guys you're attracted to are over a foot taller than you
-you have a head rest at the movie theater while it's normal for people's heads go over the seat...but your feet still can't reach the ground
-you can be on a soap opera...but you will be the backup for a child actor (like Mickey is in the Seinfeld episode, The Stand-In)
-every shirt you wear looks like a nightgown on you.
-Capris fit you like normal pants.
-you have to stand on a chair to reach the second shelf in the cabinets
-you will never be an NBA player
-you are used to being measured to see whether or not you can ride the roller coaster
-even when you wear high heels you're still a whole five inches shorter than the average girl
-parents are pointing you out to their children telling them that if they don't eat their vegetables then they will end up like you (as if that's a bad thing...)
-you are still riding around on your Barbie bike that you've had since third grade because you still can barely touch the ground

I've heard so many short jokes it's not even funny. No, really, they're not funny jokes. Short jokes are easy to come up with but having them be witty and something I've never heard before is...well, hard. I remember one time while I was working at the theater and playing the part of greeter-who-rips-the-tickets-from-behind-a-podium-stand, one man came up to me and told me to stop standing in a hole. I remember that joke not necessarily because it made me laugh (although I gave him a fake smile) but because it was new. Come up with new material, people.

I really can't wait until I'm old and still have my baby face. But, as you age you also gain new features, like wrinkles. Having a baby face with wrinkles will almost guarantee that when a mom passes by she'll say to her child, See, that's what tanning does to you. The overexposure to the sun ruins your skin and gives you wrinkles at an early age. I bet that lady's only 30, but she looks 74. No matter what age I am, I will still be a source that mothers use to teach their children life lessons. I just cannot wait for the plethora of short jokes to come my way when I'm 74 and a foot shorter than I am now. I also can't wait until I'm 102 and get to work back at the theater again, all the while standing in a deeper hole.

Saturday, August 28, 2010

The Deed is Done

What good deed have you done today? What, you helped an elderly woman cross the road? That doesn't count--she was perfectly capable of walking by herself...using her cane. You gave a homeless man a toothbrush? What's he going to do with that?...now he needs toothpaste. Way to make someone who has no money go out and spend money on something he didn't even need to begin with. Donated money to help the poor starving children in Africa? Everyone does that.

Well, I shall tell you of the grandest of grand deeds that I've ever committed. However, there are some ingredients you'll be needing to commit this deed that is praiseworthy of any saint.

Ingredients needed to do a super service for someone, all the while having fun:

1. Jell-O pudding mix
2. Car
3. Doorbell
4. Camera
5. Sense of humor

My brother and I were soooooo restless on Monday. We wanted to get out of the house and do something but there's not much to do where we live, right (nod your head "yes")? We have to get creative. My brother starts throwing out ideas about what would be better than sitting around (like shooting yourself in the foot...because then at least that gives you something exciting to do). I mention some things I did a few years ago involving ketchup cookies, a video camera, and two other people who are willing to make fools of themselves by wearing disguises and talking in an Asian accent for the sake of a video...and for the sake of not being bored. But I won't get into that little story here. Anyways, so while we're brainstorming off of my little ketchup cookie story, my brother comes up with this idea that we doorbell ditch completely random houses and leave them a gift on their front doorstep (no, not dog poo in a burning brown bag. I'm not like that). Not a bad idea, actually. But what gift could we possibly leave someone that would make their day? Cookies with ketchup? Nah. Cookies? Boring. Empty pizza boxes? Been there, done that. Fat free, sugar free, vanilla flavored instant Jell-O pudding??? Bingo!

I know you're thinking, Wow, Shannon is just soooooo nice. I wish I was delivered fat free, sugar free, vanilla flavored instant Jell-O pudding right to my door. How convenient! I'm sorry, but I only do nice things for strangers. Sidenote: My brother is talented and was able to make the pudding in less than five minutes! Five minutes! Can you believe that?

Now that the deliciousness is ready to be eaten by a couple of lucky souls who happen to be stumbled upon by two bored-out-their-minds twentysomethingyearolds, we just need something to put this yummy treat in. A vase? Nah. Tupperware? Boring. A baggie? Been there, done that (not really). These super awesome red plastic cups made durable to withstand multiple dishwashings??? Bingo!Now, you can't just leave a plastic cup with a yummy dessert inside of it on someone's doorstep. There has to be a story to go along with it. So...my brother and I came up with really cute things to write on the side of the 2 cups (to make the deliverees believe that they knew the deliverers) that were soon to be delivered to COMPLETELY RANDOM STRANGERS;

-We love you guys! Enjoy the pudding. By the way, did you borrow our casserole dish?

-Thank you so much for your help yesterday! I made your favorite treat. (Please return the cup when done).

If this isn't appetizing then I don't know what is

Time to doorbell ditch! The best part. I picked out this house:

As you can see, we doorbell ditched in a pretty nice neighborhood, not to mention in the broad daylight. The next door neighbors were out mowing their lawns and playing in their front yards when they saw this junk Honda Civic pull up to the curb right in front of this house, see this girl walk up to the door, ring the doorbell, run for her life to the car sitting directly in front, the car pull away from the curb only slightly, then the cargoers watch to see if anyone answers the front door. We didn't see anyone answer the door, but when we drove past the house a few minutes later the super awesome red plastic cup made durable to withstand multiple dishwashings was gone. I think the recipients of our pudding-giving were happy that someone thought to bring them pudding. I have to be optimistic that they liked the pudding because the alternative is sad--they could've thrown away our delicious treat that took a whole 5 minutes of hard work to create. That would just put a frown on my face, so I like to pretend that a mother opened the door, called all five of her children to gather around the cup and each have a spoonful (since the cup was only about 1/4 full) of the tasty good stuff. And if the mother did, in fact, happen to borrow a casserole dish from a friend, then when she goes to return the dish she'll be sure to bring up the fact that she found the pudding that her friend had given her oh, so scrumptious. But she thought it was odd that her friend chose the method of doorbell ditching for the pudding's delivery.

My brother chose to doorbell ditch the second (and last) house that had the garage doors open so that he could get more of an adrenaline rush as he ran the fifteen feet back to the car. After he rang the doorbell, he ran back to the car, and we just sat in the car in front of the house until we knew for sure someone was going to answer. Sure enough, some little old lady was the lucky recipient of the vanilla pudding. She looked at us in the car with confusion, like she didn't recognize the car...or us. We waved at her. Then drove away. After that she must've read the cup: ...Please return the cup when done. I bet you she was trying to figure out for the life of her who it was that she had to return the plastic cup to. Now, who do I know who drives a beat up Honda Civic? Okay, well, who did I help yesterday to deserve such wonderful pudding? Ooooh, I helped Mittens get her claws stuck out of the couch cushions. But a cat can't bake or write on cups. Maybe it was Mittens's owner who wrote this beautiful note...but wait, I'M Mittens's owner. Hmm. This Dementia thing isn't really helping my memory.

And there you have it, a simple, easy way to cheer folks up unexpectedly...while having fun...and not being so bored that you want to shoot your foot just for the entertainment factor. Actually, I don't know if those folks were cheered up--but let's pretend they are...because it makes me feel good knowing I did something nice for someone else. But quite honestly, who WOULDN'T want FREE pudding? It's actually the best random act of kindness I've ever given someone...who I don't know...in Utah...via doorbell ditching.

Saturday, August 21, 2010

7 in Heaven

After reading the title, I bet you thought this post was going to be about the game Seven Minutes in Heaven. Well, you're gravely mistaken. This post is actually about a fish whose name was 7 and is now up in Heaven (hence the use of the adverb gravely).

I don't know if I would describe today using the adjective lugubrious or melancholy or to use heck yes! Now I got the whole place to myself! because I'm speaking on behalf of Soda, the fish who is the sole survivor of the new fish bowl, who is the beneficiary (benefishiary?) of the rest of the tropical fish flakes, who is now the only recipient of the love I have to give (to tropical fish, that is).

I discovered that my other tropical fish (I say "tropical fish" because I don't exactly know what kind of fish they are), 7, killed himself. Today was a big day for 7, so I can imagine that he's been under a lot of stress and just couldn't take it anymore, so...he jumped. He literally jumped out of his fishbowl. What? You were thinking he jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge? Silly.

This morning I woke up to discover that the aquarium where Soda and 7 lived was leaking. I got them a new place where they could live peacefully--in a vase. I didn't have any fake plants or some cool little fish castle to put into their new habitat, so the bricks would have to suffice. Plus, I figured they would like to swim in the holes. Which they did.

The transition from moving in a rush must've been a hard transition on my poor fish. But, to make 7 feel even worse, he must've been sad to realize that he's been going almost a year without a name. I've just been calling him "that pink fish". I know, I'm a neglectful fish-parent. But, I have a reason for being so bad at naming these fish. See, originally I had bought three tropical fish and was going to name them Prince, Paris, and Blanket. Then I came to realize that Paris isn't a fishy name (okaaaaaay, it is. But Paris Hilton has already claimed that image). Anyways, so I put off naming them for a few months, and when I was on vacation at The Happiest Place on Earth (Disneyland, in case you're not in the loop of things) a couple of months ago, I came home to discover what was left of the red fish--bones mostly--at the bottom of the aquarium. He died a mysterious death. So, I was down to two fish. And today was the day. I had finally decided on names for my two fish--7 and Soda. According to George Costanza, 7 is "a beautiful name for a boy or a girl." Furthermore, he has said, "You look like nice people. I'm gonna help you out. You want a beautiful name? Soda." I just can't pass up George's opinion, so 7 and Soda they were named.

In conclusion, 7 had a bad day because he had to move to a house that didn't suit his needs. They say location, location, location when buying, but poor 7 didn't have a choice that his new home just so happens to be on the counter top in the bathroom. Talk about degrading. Also, he was given a name thanks to some character off a TV show. High expectations. This must've brought his self-esteem to an all-time low. Poor fella. And to top it all off, he's stuck living in a fishbowl where everyone can see what he's doing...and he has to keep from adhering to to 7 Up's once-motto: Make 7 Up yours.

I came home from seeing Knight and Day tonight to discover 7 on the floor. Hard as a rock. Okay, more like as hard as a dead fish who's been on the floor for a few hours. I can't believe he decided to end his pain by jumping the full 3 feet! Horrible. Well, there goes another $2 down the toilet (well, not literally $2, but 7 who was worth $2...I wouldn't ever literally flush $2 down the toilet).

I guess I need to go back to Wal-Mart and buy another fish to replace 7 (okay, I don't really mean replace. No one, nothing, not a single fish could ever fill the void that 7 has left behind). I will name the new tropical fish Art Vandelay, no one would even notice if he really existed or not.

***On a more serious note: if you're thinking about ending your life, don't. It will leave those left behind really, really, really, really lugubrious. Just stick it out and hope that things will get better. Besides, in Utah it's against the law to kill yourself.

The Sock and Shoe Bandits

Yesterday there was a cougar warning in our neck of the woods (and no, U of U, I don't mean the BYU Cougars, although you better watch out!...Confession: I don't watch sports. I'm supposed to be supporting my college, right?). Yep, a mountain lion was spotted at the park a couple of blocks away from my house. But forget the cougar. There is something else on the loose that is even more ferocious...to apparel.

My cat.

My cat is a sort of vicious killer--she likes to play "cat and mouse" with her prey before actually killing it. Who would've thought? Last night she had apparently been out hunting in the woods and being so generous as she is, decided to surprise me with a dead mouse left right outside the front door. Aww, how cute. And I must admit that she's pretty talented considering she doesn't even have front claws. It is true what Robert De Niro says in "Meet the Parents": Cats make you work for their affection. They don't sell out like dogs do. So, either my cat loves me because she's bringing me "gifts" or in reality she's actually plotting my death.

I don't know about you, but I'd rather Sassy not bring me dead mice. I'd actually prefer to be brought shoes, underwear, or socks. Oh wait, that's what my other cats carry around the house. Call them lazy...or slow (in the head)...but these other two cats will only "hunt" clothing items--hmm, they must be girls who love a true shopping spree. It has pretty much become a ritual now, because every single night, I repeat, EVERY SINGLE NIGHT, Kudos will go into the master bedroom and drag at least one of the slipper socks (shown at left) into my gram's room. But, the best part is when Kudos makes her hunting cry...it sounds like she's in pain, yet she cries like this the whole time she is dragging the cotton carcus. She truly believes she has caught something and is the proud killer of this sock-shoe thing.

Truffles, the smarter cat, makes a hunting cry as well. Except, she's not dragging around a sock...she's actually upgraded to shoes. I must admit that it's pretty annoying when you're running late and go to put your flip flops on, only to discover that they're two rooms over, like under the kitchen table. Or in the center of the family room. Or in the office. Silly kitty. Why do you think they're carrying around shoes? Are they inadvertently telling us that our feet smell and we need to cover them up?

But wait...that can't be true. Because...Kudos will go through partially opened drawers pulling out underwear. What is she trying to say with this action? I don't know. But I will tell you one thing that I know will never happen, even though it'd probably be a humorous situation: What if you were home alone with your boyfriend? And you're just, like, upstairs chilling, watching a movie or something. But then...your parents come home to discover underwear, socks, shoes all over the floors knowing that you said Johnny was coming over that afternoon. The looks on your parents' faces would be a Kodak Moment, all thanks to your cats named Truffles and Kudos (intimidating names), also known as the Shoe and Sock Bandits.

So, mountain lion, I know you’re perfectly capable of taking down a small human and stuff (which would be sad), but I’m more scared of running late and not being able to find shoes to wear. That would be horrible.

Friday, August 20, 2010

An Ode (Except Not Really) to the Hottest Grandma on the Net

August 2007

Who would combine puka shells with a purple/teal-mixed-animal-print blouse? None other than my grams! You have to admit they look great together too. To top off the outfit just throw on a tilted hat...ah, now the look's complete. This is just another ordinary picture that I have of Grams. But what's not so ordinary is the story behind the picture. Story time, children. Like, really, take a deep breath, relax, and take off your socks because they're about to be blown away...unless you've already taken your socks off, that is.

A few years ago I was bedridden due to major surgery. What to do with all my free time? Join hotornot.com of course! But, naturally, I would never join that site, so I had this brilliant idea to post a picture of Grams--the exact same picture in this post--on that site.

Her profile:

Username: SugaMoma
Age: 22
About Me: 'Sup, homie Gs? I'm looking for my gangsta love. He must love being spoiled. Rapping career a must (that way he could serenade with sweet lullabies like Eminem's "Mockingbird"). Must drive a cadillac--the lower the better. Sometimes it's hard getting into those things. Must be willing to call me Shawty. I'd appreciate it if he frequently throws up the Westside sign in my presence. Must sag his drawers regularly as if he has a loaded diaper--I feel accomplished playing the role of a mamacita. Bonus: have at least one gold tooth. Hollaback, dawgs. Word.

Success! She had wannabe rappers writing her from all over the country and to top it all off, her "hot or not" rating was an average in the high 8s (now I feel special when people tell me I look exactly like her)! I suspect, though, that she was receiving such high scores because there were 90 year old men on that site who came across her picture and thought she was the most beautiful creature the Internet had ever seen. Or, I'm not going to rule this out either; but maybe, just maybe, she was receiving such high scores because her profile and picture were hilarious. No, I think the first scenario is more likely. Unfortunately, some little party-pooper had to go along and report my grandma's picture to the authorities, and needless to say, we were banned from that site because a picture of a little "old" lady was in the same category with girls in their 20s, and that's clearly against the rules. Shame. Who says 22 year olds can't have wrinkles?

A couple of months ago I went with my friend to her ward's opening social and had to play one of those "get-to-know-you" kind of games...you know, the games you try to avoid. In an attempt to try and spice up the question, What's one thing you've done that you don't think anyone else in this room has ever done before?, I told everyone who came to me with a pencil and paper (I would never tell this story to people in my ward) that I had posted my gram's picture on that wretched site. By the end, everyone had known that my grams is HOT (mainly because the person in charge of the social read my answer out loud to the whole entire group, thanks). I guess the person in charge of the social gathering would rate my quirky story as an 8.8--you have to admit, though, that hearing about someone's grandma attracting rappers is 11 times more interesting than learning that someone climbed Mount Everest. Pshh. The Mount Everest story would probably only rate at a 5.3.

Now when someone comes up to Grams and says, You're so cute!, she now knows to respond with Actually, I'm hot. Just ask the Internet.

***No grandmas were harmed in the making of this blog.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

The Best Band Name

As I'm sitting here listening to music, I can't help but wonder: How do bands come up with their names? Seriously. Some names are most excellent (Chumbawamba) and some don't hit the "most excellent" mark (The Turtles). But, I would have to say that the most original/well thought out band name goes to...drum roll, please...dun, dun, dun...drum roll continues...Dave Matthews Band! Yes, the Best Band Name award goes to them because they're just so darn clever.

My brain likes to collect random tidbits of useless information and these facts are automatically inserted into my storage vault. Example: I heard that that the creator of Family Guy, Seth MacFarlane, was supposed to be on one of the 9/11 flights but couldn't make his flight. Was his life preserved? Hmm...maybe so that he could create a fourth season. I'm not too sure on whether this next story I'm about to share, though, is actually a fact. But I like this story, so we'll pretend for the sake of this entry that it is indeed true:
There was a little-known band (at the time) who would play in bars. Unfortunately, since no one had heard of them (because they weren't yet famous, obviously) no one would come watch them. This made the band frustrated. Not knowing what to do to get more people to their gigs to hear their stupendous music, this band had to get creative. And their creativity paid off! Outside the bar, the band had decided to paint a sign and place it directly outside of the bar to attract more people. Do you know what words they painted on the sign? Of course you don't, because I haven't told you yet...well, this brilliant band painted...drum roll, please...dun, dun, dun...drum roll continues...Barenaked Ladies. This sign was so successful in attracting people into the bar (who were probably disappointed it was only a band playing, and no nude women) that the band decided to lay this name upon themselves. Forever. And ever. The end. Oh, and it seems that a lot of people--especially those in Utah--don't like saying Barenaked Ladies (because there are too many syllables or because it's awkward to say aloud? Hmm...), so they can also be known as BNL.

Actually, I take back the Best Band Name award I gave to Dave Matthews Band. It should now go into the hands of...drum roll, please...dun, dun, dun...drum roll continues...Butthole Surfers. For being so classy. Thank you. And, Butthole Surfers, I expect you to display your trophy where it can be seen by others (like on a bookshelf) and don't try and get creative by displaying it up where the sun doesn't shine (yes, I'm referring to the first half of your band name).

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Stalking Theme Music

Let's face it: If you're connected to the Internet, then you're likely to have a stalker (unless you're me). To celebrate all of your many stalkers, I have compiled a little list of songs that are appropriate to dedicate to them.

1. Santa Claus is Coming to Town
He sees you when you're sleeping
He knows when you're awake
He knows if you've been bad or good
So be good for goodness sake

2. Every Breath You Take-The Police
Every breath you take
Every move you make
Every bond you break
Every step you take
I'll be watching you
Every single day
Every word you say
Every game you play
Every night you stay
I'll be watching you

3. Invisible-Clay Aiken
I wish I could be a fly on your wall
Are you really alone...
If I was invisible
Then I could just watch you in your room
...I keep tracing your steps

4. I Will Follow Him-Little Peggy March
I will follow him
Follow him wherever he may go
There isn't an ocean too deep
A mountain so high it can keep
Keep me away
I must follow him
Near him I always must be
And nothing can keep him from me
He is my destiny
I love him, I love him, I love him
And where he goes, I'll follow, I'll follow, I'll follow

5. One Way or Another-Blondie
One way or another I'm gonna find ya
I'm gonna getcha getcha getcha getcha
One way or another I'm gonna see ya
I will drive past your house
And if the lights are all down
I'll see who's around
And if the lights are all out
I'll follow your bus downtown
See who's hanging out
I'll walk down the mall
Stand over by the wall
Where I can see it all
Find out who ya call

I wouldn't mind having Santa or Clay Aiken stalking me. They're totally not creepy at all.

And, don't forget: If you're the one doing the stalking then you should always be playing one of these songs as your theme music at the time of your perusing. The one I chose for my theme was Every Breath You Take.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

I ♥ UT

I was at Wal-Mart today when I was amused to see a woman wearing an I ♥ UT shirt...in Utah. Seriously, though, who sells shirts proclaiming their love for Utah? Even better, who buys a shirt proclaiming their love for Utah? I just find that so funny--in fact, I thought about taking a picture and sending it to peopleofwalmart.com, but alas, I don't think many people would find it hilarious like I did...unless, you have a unique sense of humor, I guess.

Normally vacation spots such as New York City or London will sell shirts that consequently say I ♥ NYC or I ♥ London. Well, San Francisco happens to be one of those cities who is also supportive of selling these shirts. I'm originally from a city about 45 minutes from San Fran and so my family would "travel" there every so often. When we found out we would be moving to Utah my sister decided that she needed to have a San Fran shirt to remember that beautiful city by. So, now we're living in Utah and one day my sister decides to wear her I ♥ SF shirt. Bless this Utard's heart, but someone actually came up to her and said, "Wow, I didn't know Spanish Fork sells shirts." Sheltered? Yes. I mean, has this person never been out of Utah before so they think that SF can only possibly stand for a farming town with a population of around 30,000? That is freakin' awesome. Utah natives, I ♥ U.

I ♥ LAMP, too.

Monday, August 16, 2010


Yesterday I was contemplating something of utmost importance: why is there a North and South Carolina, a North and South Dakota, but only a West Virginia and Virginia? Why no East Virginia (if you have the answer to this feel free to tell me)? Usually when I have awesome questions like this I will ask ChaCha (Text your questions to 242-242 for FREE answers!) because 1) I'm too lazy to get on the computer, or 2) there's no computer nearby to look up a question. But lately, I've been disappointed with ChaCha--it's like there's not even a person on the other end of my question answering, it's more like a computer that just goes to Google and types in one keyword from your question.

The last intelligent question I happened to ask ChaCha was What's Justin Long's date of birth? Now, this may not seem like a big deal if I don't get the correct answer to it, but I wanted to know how old he was. See, a friend and I had been talking and she said she thought Long was like, 25 and I thought he was exactly 32. The only obvious way to resolve our question was to look to ChaCha to enlighten us! Anyways, so ChaCha responds with Justin Bieber was born on March 1, 1994. ChaCha again soon! Umm...nowhere in my text did I write "Bieber." How the heck did they get that mixed up? Okay, so it may be a confusing question to some, since Justin is a common name and everything...so, I respond to ChaCha by asking them my original question again. They then responded that they did not understand what I was asking. I told them that it's a very simple question and to just google Justin Long's birthday. FINALLY. There is ONE smart person who works for ChaCha who was able to give me my answer (turns out he IS 32...I win!).

Justin Long/ Justin Bieber.

On a separate occasion, I was really wondering whether Dr. Seuss was indeed a doctor. Naturally, I asked ChaCha. Their response: Theodor Seuss Geisel, known as Dr. Seuss, was born in Springfield, Massachusetts. Well, thanks for the info, but it doesn't quite answer my question...so, I ask the same question again. They then give me the same answer. Repeat step 1 about five times. Then, finally, a smart ChaCha person comes along to my question and gives me a satisfactory answer (in case you're wondering whether Seuss was in fact a doctor): No, he wasn't a doctor. He went to Lincoln College, Oxford, intending to earn a Doctor of Philosophy in English literature. At Oxford, he met his future wife, married her, and returned to the US without earning a degree. And who cares that he's not REALLY a doctor?! He still has Dr. as part of his name! On a sidenote: like, the next day after asking this question, I saw some guy wearing a cool shirt about "Doctor" Seuss (pictured below). I almost shared my new learned knowledge with him that his shirt was a blatant LIE. But instead, I ended up taking a picture of the guy's shirt, because, I have to admit, that shirt was a classic. So, I was nice and let the guy live his life believing that Dr. Seuss was really a doctor. Life is so much better when you're naive.

Even though ChaCha isn't 100% reliable for factual answers, you can still ask an open question where you just want an opinion. ChaCha can be fun to text for this option. Your challenge: text 242-242 and ask Are you dumb? or Is the Book of Mormon true? or Are cats or dogs better? because some of their answers are fun...only if you're bored, though. Like, if you're on a bus ride, are waiting at the airport, or are sitting in Calculus, because these situations=no fun.

Chacha on! Thanks for using ChaCha! ChaCha!

Sunday, August 15, 2010

OMG R U 4 Realz?

Texting: The new talking. I'm not against texting, in fact, I kind of like it. I mean, talking on the phone can be a pain...just take a look at this. With texting you can just say what you need to say without having to do all the dreaded small talk only to find out what your friend's new puppy, Maggie Mae, slobbered on today, whose butt Maggie Mae sniffed, or what kind of Kibbles 'n Bits is Maggie Mae's favorite flavor. And say if Maggie Mae's new owner happened to text you about Maggie Mae's new "trick" of being able to "play dead," you simply don't need to respond--that's the beauty of it. However, there is also a beast to this beautiful invention of texting--the way it has taken over our spelling, grammar, and punctuation.

If you can spell you automatically get bonus points from me, but all 2 often i c ppl type like dis on da compu & it annoys da heck outta me. lol. its fine 4 when ur txting bc dat takes 4eva on da fone 2 type but on da compu there is no need 4 it. omg. lmao...

On a happy thought: Doesn't your heart glow when you get a text? I know mine does. As soon as I hear the Seinfeld theme song make its round from my phone, I know that I am loved (because, hellooooo, I just received a text...and apparently, if someone texts you, you're loved). Anyways, a few weeks ago, I received a text from someone who had a Michigan area code. Random. They obviously had the wrong number when they were sending me picture messages (but who knows, they could just be sending pictures to made-up numbers out of sheer boredom). I'm one of those people where if you text me accidentally, I'll just text you back as if I know you--it keeps my life exciting. Our conversation went like this:

Them: Here we are at Caesars Palace! (Attached: picture of a hotel, obviously in Vegas)
Me: Here we are in the kitchen! (Attached: picture of my kitchen...)

Them: Good morning from Las Vegas! (Attached: picture of a sunrise)
Me: Good afternoon from our home! (Attached: picture of the Utah mounta

Them: Breakfast at The French Laundry (Attached: picture of...a sunflower)
Me: Dinner at The Hidden Cottage [my home is referred to this name by my parents] (Attached: picture of some fake tulips)

  THEM                                                                                ME
Jamie the electric border collie
Truffles the chocolate kitty

If they kept texting me over a series of a couple of weeks because they seriously thought I was Sally's son's hairdresser's cousin's dogsitter, well they got a group of mind-boggling pictures, then. And if they were then frantically trying to identify who I could be based on the pictures I sent, well, good luck with that! You might want to try calling next time. But if they were just sending random texts to a random person because they were bored to tears and couldn't think of anything better to do (while in Vegas), then this is all I have to say to them:  
Congratulations! You're cool!

To see more random texts from Random Michigan Number, click here.

Monday, August 9, 2010

A Whole New World

Well, I did it! I created a BLOG...and on 8/9/10, nonetheless! You know, a few months ago if you had asked me what a blog was, I would've been like, "it...uh...rhymes with log. And dog. And hog. And fog." I would've gotten an F for that answer--because it's so "F"antastic--and it wouldn't have been the first F I've ever received, either. Sad, but I'm just now discovering this whole other world that is known as blogging. And, truth is, I'm not too keen on writing about myself for the whole internet world to see. What made me do it, then? I actually have no freakin' idea. I doubt anyone I personally know will see this (unless I later decide to share the link) but maybe I did create this blog because I'm sooooooo horribly bad at writing in my journal (yes, I am just NOW writing about September 11 in it...only nine years late). So, if you like to randomly read random people's random thoughts and random feelings and random encounters, then you should randomly read this random blog.

PS: I thought it only appropriate to add a random picture to fit this first post.
PPS: Sorry if it scares you.


Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...