For All the CRAFTY Women, Holla!

Ever since I was little (and by that, I mean thinner--not shorter), I’ve been crafty.

Flashback:

[Scene: Shannon, Little Sister, and Little Brother are in the driveway playing 3-Square]

Shannon hits the red bouncy ball with a sleight of hand, yet the ball manages to strike the top corner of Sister's square and then leap out of bounds, and start to roll away. Sister pouts. Sister walks after ball. Shannon motions for Brother to come over to her.

Shannon speaks to Brother just above a whisper; looks to make sure Sister is out of audible range; she is, three feet away.

Zoom in on Brother's face after Shannon speaks to Brother.

Brother [confused]: ...but we don't have that kind of soda.

Zoom out.

Shannon [gives an exaggerated wink into the camera]: Oh, yes we do.

---

[Scene: Shannon and Brother sitting in time-out on the stairway landing]

Mom [sternly]: I am ashamed of you two. Brother, why would you ever punch Sister in the face?

Brother [defensively]: Shannon told me to!

Shannon [defensively]: No, I didn't!

Mom [reasonably]: Well, Shannon, don't you know you have an influence on Brother? What did you do to make him punch Sister?

Shannon: All Brother did was ask Sister if she wanted a Hawaiian Punch...and he gave her one. Seems to me that she should be grateful that she got what she wanted.

---

[Scene: Hour later, Brother and Sister playing merrily outside. Shannon's eyes are red from crying, she's still sitting in time-out, and she's still wondering how she could get in trouble for telling Brother to give Sister a real "Hawaiian Punch"]


The End

craft·y/ˈkraftē/

Adjective:

Clever at achieving one's aims by indirect or deceitful methods. Of, involving, or relating to indirect or deceitful methods.

...but I’ve never been into arts and crafts.

...BUT look what I just made!

T-Shirt Design

You see, I used this digital scrapbooking software called My Memories Suite. Usually, when I *try* and create a t-shirt design, I don't have the tools necessary to slant any words or photos I may use. However, since I've had this program I've been able to do that, and with ease.

But...wait...there's more!

My design may seem plain. But that's only because I made it. What's great about this program is that there are many colorful and bright pre-made scrapbook page layouts. Yes, my t-shirt design has nothing to do with scrapbooking. This program offers a plethora of possibilities to help you create whatever project is on your mind.

One of many scrapbook page layouts (photos of gorgeous children not included)

I have never, ever enjoyed scrapbooking with paper and hard-copy photos. Too girly(?) for me. However, I did enjoy placing selective photos into the already-laid-out slots. (See above)

...but here's the best part:

This is a 

GIVEAWAY

for one lucky (crafty or non-crafty) reader to receive their own My Memories Suite V3 (value: $39.97)

To enter, follow the instructions below.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Thanks, and good luck!

(PS: If you just can't wait to snag this cool software, you can use this code to purchase the software for yourself:

STMMMS93957

and, guess what! This code will give you $10 off your My Memories Suite V3 purchase AND it'll give you a $10 coupon towards the MyMemories.com store.)

Crystal Ballers

Do you feel lost? 

Should you change careers?

Is the man you're with treating you good enough? 

 

If you answered yes or no to at least one of these questions, then you're in luck! Call now for a reading over the phone! Yes, you heard that right. Our highly skilled spiritual advisore can tell what's in store for your future...over the phone. Over the phone! You know what that means, don't you? Of course you don't, you're not gifted in the same way we are. It means that good days are ahead for you! Oops, did we say too much? Call now! We know you'll be happy you did.

First time callers, call now to be charged only $3/minute. All regular callers, your rate is still $10/minute, but know we love you. You provide us with a paycheck. We're only taking advantage of you because we know you'll continue to call. We can we say, we're psychics. 

Probably from the Psychics' Perspectives

"These psychic commercials make us look so sleazy...don't you think, Pixie?"

"Ha, listen to this one, Jezebel. I got a guy on hold who wants to know what he should do about his relationship with his girlfriend."

"Why do people call us with their lives in our hands?" Jezebel thought aloud, as she often did.

"Oooooh, quiet, quiet, Brad is about to give the rose to Emily! Eeee! Turn the sound up, would ya?" Pixie demanded, as she often did.

"If I were going to, wouldn't you already know?"

"Ha. Ha. Funny, Jez. Now shut up, I want to hear if Emily is going to accept the rose!"

::2 minutes later::

"Uh, Pixie, isn't that guy still on hold?" Jez inquired.

"Oh, shoot! Wait, no, wait, it's okay. He's only been on hold for three minutes. We're piling in the Benjamins. Now stop munching on those Cheetos so loudly, would ya? I need to act like I'm in a secluded area and he shouldn't hear your loud mouth chomping in the background. That means turn off your dang cell phone and don't talk to Bud while I'm dealing with this customer, and mute the TV. Do you think you can handle that?"

"I think you already know the answer."

Pixie cleared her throat as if she were competing in the most-authoritative-person-alive contest.

"Hello, Sir, this is Pixie speaking. Thank you for holding as I was receiving divine inspiration about your specific case."

"Oh, thanks, Pixie. Like I was saying, I've been having problems with my girlfriend. I think she thinks that I'm not paying enough attention to her. What should I do?"

"Well, Sir, is it okay if I call you Timmy?"

"How'd you know Timmy was my name?"

"The letters T and I and M and Y just appeared," Pixie responded as she checked the caller ID from the phone's screen.

"Wow, you really are in tuned."

"Hahaha, Timmy, you could probably be one, too, for making a statement like that. But, listen, like I was saying, Timmy, I'm feeling as if you and your girlfriend are feeling a sort of tension in the relationship...and...um..." Pixie shifted in her La-Z Boy recliner.

"Yeah, yeah. That's right," Timmy confirmed.

"Will you please hold? I'm receiving some sort of inspiration. This may take a minute."

"Sure," was all Timmy could say.

"Come on, Pixie, don't you think it's a little rude to put him on hold just to eat?" Jezebel was getting sick of watching TV in the mute.

"Jez, I told him I'm receiving inspiration...and I wasn't lying. My stomach was telling me it's hungry--and if that's not inspiration, then I don't know what is." Pixie actually answered, as she took a bite of her delectable Dove chocolate.

"Thanks for holding, Timmy. So you and your current girlfriend have been going through some rifts. And you're worried about what's in your relationship's future. Is this correct?"

"Yes."

"Of course. Well, Timmy, it was manifested to me that you need to give your girlfriend a gift. Not just any gift, though. You need to let her know that you care for her. I get the feeling that right now you're having problems because she is feeling as though the romance has dwindled."

"Uh huh."

"Am I right so far?"

"I mean, I guess. She has told me over a year ago that she likes it when I give her attention. Do you think that's what's missing?"

"Of course. That's what I'm feeling. Oh, what's this? Hold on, wait. I'm starting to feel something more. Will you hold, Timmy?"

"Yeah."

"This is too easy. This guy's falling for anything I say," Pixie shared the obvious with Jez.

Jezebal nodded her matted head in agreement as she munched slowly on a Cheeto, then wiped her finger clean of the orange powder on the lower edge of her Cheeto-stained pink tank top.

"You know," Jezebal turned her head from the screeching sound coming from the Sham Wow commercial that plastered the TV screen, "I was thinking. Those producers of The Bachelor really do have it right. If I were on that show, I'd love to receive a rose from the man of my dreams. Isn't that just so romantic?"

"Quiet, Jez. I'm thinking."

A minute passes.

"Hi, Timmy. I received a revelation. Are you ready for what I'm about to tell you? Because, I know that this is the solution to your problems with your girlfriend...for now."

"Yeah! I'm ready!"

"You should give your girlfriend a single-stemmed red rose. Single-stemmed because it's symbolizing that your girlfriend is the only woman in your life. She is your one and only. Red indicates passion. By giving her a red rose, you are essentially stating to her that you care for her. You are the man in her life, and she is the woman in your life. Right now she's probably feeling as if she's not receiving as much attention from you as she'd like. The rose's thorns represent that there may be some sharp disagreements, and other hurtful events in the relationship, but that your relationship has of yet to fully blossom. By giving her the rose, you're showing her that you do value her and that she can never be replaced. "

"Oh, wow. Thanks. I'll be sure to do that. You may have just saved my relationship."

"Okay, is there anything that I can further assist you with?"

"I think you just helped what matters most in my life! That's it."

"You're welcome, Timmy. May you be blessed with with positive energy in the near future, and with your girlfriend."

Pixie clicked the "end" button and killed the phone call. At that moment, a dancing backwards-robe-wearing woman was reflecting a blue blur all along the wall across from the TV. 

"But wait, there's more! When you order a Snuggie, you'll also receive a cheap, plastic booklight that'll last for two days max! A $23 value...for FREE! Hurry, this deal ends in two years!" The overenthusiastic male voice boomed.

"I love my job, Jezebel. These clients are so easy to manipulate. They're so dumb," Pixie informed Jezebel.

"You know, Pixie, I think I need a Snuggie," Jezebel ignored Pixie, for once.
-----------------------------------------------------------------

From My Perspective

"I just got off the phone with a psychic." You could tell that Timmy was proud of his first-ever talk with the omniscient.

"What'd they say?" I asked older brother, whom I looked up to, with curiosity beaming from my bulging brown eyes.

"That I need to give my girlfriend a single-stemmed red rose, and it'll help to heal our relationship."

"...but you don't even have a girlfriend," I reiterate.

"I know. Those psychics are so easy to manipulate. They're so dumb," Timmy established.

"They're just psychics, you know?"

Special Delivery

I was young.

I was naive

I was spontaneous.

I was a college sophomore.

And I was bored.

Bad combination.

I've always been big on recycling, thanks to a fourth grade sing-songy program that I participated in for my elementary school. The theme: Recycle, Reduce, Reuse! I still remember the lyrics: Recyccccccle, Reduuuuuse, Reuuuuuuse! Yeah! To stick to my good Samaritan roots that were instilled in me at such an early age, I've strived to reuse anything that's, well, reusable (but only if it's for a good cause).

Examples:

-Have reports from five years ago? Just turn each page around and print your next report on the opposite sides. Your professors will think you're cheap and poor, and guess what, you ARE cheap and poor. Therefore, the professors will have pity on you because you can't afford fresh paper, and will consequently give you a higher grade. Works every time.
-Have old, rotten Halloween candy? Just sell 'em to your younger brother. He will be your number one customer...and only customer.
-Have M&M wrappers, Dorito wrappers, Dasani water labels, ketchup packets, chopsticks, Taco Bell mild sauce packets, and Pizza Hut parmesan cheese and hot pepper wrappers laying around your college apartment? Create a meaty, saucy, sweet, and yummy man: Topher--who will hang around in your kitchen.

Topher with 2 Fans

-Have a dampen room with plain, boring white walls? Just pick up a hubcap from the side of the road and take it back to your apartment. Next, you should paint, and decorate the thang. I used markers and colored the thing to look like the sun. Then I hung it from the ceiling (Well, I didn't hang it from the ceiling). This unusual piece of art will then brighten up any depressing room. Bonus: it will also dramatically cut back your visitor intake. 

-Have a plate of old, hard cookies left on your kitchen table from who-knows-when? Well, then, I have a mighty fine story to tell you about what to do with these. I was attending BYU way back when I committed this random act of kindness, and was just trying to be the good girl, following BYU's motto: Enter to Learn, Go Forth to Serve. Serving is what I do best...especially when it comes to giving cookies away...

But...

My sister and her friend were visiting me for the weekend. Add this element to the mix and it becomes

lethal.

Right. Me entertain my sister and her bubbly friend? Just kill me now. Or then. Not having a car sure limited the activities we could take part in. Hmm. Actually, come to think of it, I guess we all could've taken a joyride in that one shopping cart that I had to push my groceries home in for a few blocks. Hmm. (I hate reflecting on my past because I always think of what I could've done differently).

Fast forward to later in the evening when my sister and her friend were expecting to do something fun. Here you'll get to see our work in the form of entertainment in action...

You will see my sister and her friend dressed incognito. You will hear their voices disguised to having an "Asian accent." You will see me hiding behind bushes with a camcorder, trying to record this once-in-a-lifetime event. You will see my sister and her friend knocking on a random door. You will then see a big, tall black man answer the door (whaaaaaaa? In Utah????? Fo' realz????). You will then see the surprise on my sister's and her friend's face...actually, you won't. They're in disguise, remember?

You will then hear my sister say in her beautiful accent, "Cookies for you," as she stretches her arms out with a plate full of cookies to offer him.

Then you will hear the man boom, "What is this crap?!"

Sister's friend: Cookies for you. (Asian accent still, remember. It makes the whole scenario funnier...to me.)

The dude: You're trying to give this crap to me???

Sister's friend: Cookies...for yooooou?

You will then see the guy turn around to talk to his pals in the apartment. You will see about five guys and a girl just chillin' on the couch, watching the whole awkward instance through the windows.

You will then see the man who is the size of the door frame come back to his "Welcome" mat. Next, you will hear him spew, "YOU are giving ME this crap? I don't want this *bleepity bleep*! Here, YOU eat 'em."

Sister mumbles with none other than, "Cookies for you."

You will see the man getting more mad. You will hear him huffing and puffing. You can only guess that my sister and her friend are shaking in their boots...or, rainbow toe socks over sandals, to be exact.

The man scans the porch, looking to see if this was a joke. Obviously, it was.

"Who the *bleepity bleep* are you?" The man yells at the high school oddly-dressed girls.

You will then hear silence from Sister and Friend. But you will hear snickering coming from my direction.
You will see me trying to zoom in with the camcorder to the looks on Sister and Friend's faces. But you will see nothing. Those dang sunglasses.

You will then hear the man break the silence with his overpowering voice, "Who the *bleepity bleep* are you? And what's this *bleepity bleep* you're trying to give me?!"

"Cookies. For. You."

"What the *bleepity bleep*?"

"Cookies not for you?"

Then you will see Sister and Friend drop the cookies at the man's feet and run like heck.
To my apartment.
That was across the street.

You will see me still hiding behind the bush, not knowing when to leave, as the pals are still looking through the window, and you can see in my face that I'm hesitant to walk past that apartment with a camcorder. You will then see me creep slowly past his apartment window, trying to hide the recorder, acting as if I were not a part of this whole thing that went down. As I walked past his door, still laying on his welcome mat were the cookies that Sister and Friend had so graciously tried to give him:

The cookies that had been sitting in my kitchen for who-knows-how-long, adorned with ketchup "frosting."

Now rewind the Special Delivery to 10 minutes prior to the delivering part. You will see my sister and her friend practicing their "accent." You will see them robing themselves with the most ridiculous clothing. (Cue in scrunchies ornamenting pigtails, rainbow toe socks combined with flip flops, huge sunglasses...) Take two steps to the kitchen and you will see me doing what I do best: recycle, reduce, reuse--but only to be neighborly.

Haha, this is going to be so funny! Let's deliver these cookies...Whoever answers the door won't know what to do. They'll probably look at us as if we're serious...and they'll have to say,  "Thank You"!!!!!!!

We were entertained in the making process before the delivery. Sister and Friend were not entertained during the delivery. We are all entertained with this incident years later.

 And, that is how to reuse perfectly good old, crusty, hard cookies. And guess what, you're doing something very neighborly in the process, because, honestly, most people are happy to receive cookies.

Like a good neighbor, Shannon is there...in the bushes.

Let Them Eat Cake!

Ever since living in Utah, I feel like I've come in contact with a lot of talented bakers.

Take, for example,

Cakes from the school bakery contest:

A Pizza Cake!

A Fishbowl Cake!

A Hotdog and Fries Cake!

I was so shocked with how well these cakes turned out. How can people be so creative? Then I saw

Cakes from Midway Country Corner:

A Reeses Pieces and Popcorn Cake!

A Bumble Abominable Snowman Cake!

A Sweetarts Cake!

I'm proud to say that creativity runs a little bit through my family. This can be seen in a

Cake by my dad:

A Pyramid Cake!

Yeah, Utah, I know I'm going to fit right in. Mostly because my "creations" turn out looking like I had intended. Kind of like this

Cake by my mom:

"Cat food with chocolate on it?"
[Pause] Uh, It's An..."Earthquake" Cake...! Yeah.

The Morning After

Gulp.

What did I DO last night?

My memory has once again failed me the morning after. Not to my surprise, once again, I have left a trail of evidence for myself to discover the following morning.

Laptop history from last night says I tried joining a dating website under the username IAmNOTAllergicToYou. Oh boy. La-di-da-di-da. I'll just delete the profile and then this little five hour "phase" in my life has been erased. There, much better.

Wait, what's this? I've uncovered yet another "secret" gem: YouTube reveals my brother, his fiance, and I made a karaoke video wherein I'm the star of the remake to "I'm Too Sexy."

I'm scared to search further.

"Shannon, you're super funny when you're like that," my brother reveals to me as I make my public appearance for the day, "you need to be like that every night."

I cringe inside that my impaired judgment could have led my body to participate in such activities. Gosh. It's at this moment that I've made yet another grim discovery. Not only was I cringing on the inside. I was cringing on the outside, as well. A bruise shines brightly on my arm, from bumping into walls from last night's stagger.

I check my phone to further investigate last night's escapade and discover that I made a phone call at 12:30 in the morning. Who knows what the crap I said? Oh, that's right, the owner of the voicemail does. I hope I didn't say anything too revealing or embarrassing, but being under this substance kind of warps your mind. 

Now this is getting interesting.

"Do you still find that one joke funny?" My brother asks, "because you couldn't stop laughing at it last night?"

"What joke?"

"What does a gay horse eat? Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaay."

Oh, dear. I'm in worse shape than I thought.

"Or, how about this one: Why did the toilet paper roll down the hill?" He's just teasing me now.

"Why?"

"To get to the bottom!" He says with a grin.

No. Now I'm in worse shape than I thought.

Trying to get away from real-life, I step into my grandma's room. She's pretty entertaining. Maybe she can lead my mind away from my last night's behaviors.

"Hi, Shannon. Did you have a good night last night?" She asks with enthusiasm.

"Yeah...I slept well."

"Good. Because I have plenty more where that came from--let me know if you want anymore. I want to give some to your mom, but she won't take it. You should talk her into using it."

"Okay," I lied.

The Seinfeld theme song goes off. I've received a text. No, wait, my phone's just reminding me that I have unread texts.

"I'm glad you didn't drive here last night in that state of mind," my friend had lovingly texted me.

Surely my judgment was impaired--but to want to drive somewhere under that condition, go out in public like that. I couldn't be more ashamed of myself...

...when I'm on Ambien.

Life's Hardest Questions Answered

How would you respond to this question: Would you rather fight two hundred two year olds or two hundred chihuahuas?

Hard question, right? Well, this is only one of eight questions I had to answer.

If you would like to view my shrewd sheepish shining answers to some difficult questions, then you should head on over to the lovely Simply Kate's blog. You'll be in for a treat. Literally. Sometimes she has pictures of really yummy-in-my-tummy-looking food on her blog. Well, maybe not literally. Her blog isn't a brownie. But her blog sure is sweet! Figuratively. I haven't licked my monitor, so I don't know what her blog literally tastes like. But go over there anyways, you won't be disappointed--she's fun, cute, and...sweet (it's okay, I can honestly say that--I just licked my screen. But it actually tastes more dusty than anything).

Update: I've decided to post my interview on my blog, too.

1. Tell us about you and your blog. (Not really a question, but go with it)

I’m Shannon and I’m short, shy, and sharp. Please take note that all of these adjectives start with “sh,” and in conjunction, are supposed to help you remember my shrewd sheepish shining name. If these techniques fail your memory, then maybe my blog’s name, Shanimal’s Crackers, will be easier to remember. That name is a bit more creative and only played a tad on words.

Oh, man. Like, really, I don’t know how to describe my blog. But I will tell you the definition of my name. Shannon means “short and wise.” I’m not even making that up. And I will say this fact to anyone I come in contact with because it makes me feel Shpecial.

Back to the non-question at hand, I guess my blog could be considered a “humor” blog, but don’t quote me on that. Yeah, pretend those quotation marks aren’t even in the previous sentence—I’m too lazy to delete them.

2. What is your favorite book?

You know what series I find absolutely hilarious? Don’t laugh—or, go ahead and laugh…just not at me—but I recently read all the Diary of a Wimpy Kid series, and those books are pure entertainment. Just my type.

Oh, do I come off sounding unintelligent? Let’s rectify that (dang, I knew I set the bar too high by describing myself as “sharp.” Next time I’ll use the word “shabby.”). I also really like serious books, too: One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest and The Help.

3. What makes you a nerd?

Well, if loving Diary of a Wimpy Kid doesn’t, then I don’t know what does. Okaaaaaay, fine, I have a list:

-I like lists

-I mainly listen to 90’s music

-I love cats

-I like Michael Jackson jokes

-I like pun jokes

-I am a punctuation/spelling activist

-I am currently listening to “Carol o f the Bells,” by John Williams, from the Home Alone soundtrack

-I collect board games

-I just downloaded Disneyland’s “Main Street’s Electrical Light Parade” song because it reminds me of the electrical light parade, which makes me happy. I liked all the shiny lights…and Disneyland

-I say “hecka”

-I currently reside in Utah. (Joke. Not the part about me living here, but the part about it making me a nerd. I only said that living in Utah makes me a nerd because I know you, Katie, are from here…you can stop laughing at this hilarious joke now…)

-I hang out with my grandma…and enjoy it

-I can’t believe I forgot this, but …I love Mario! (Not to be confused with the singer, I’m talking about the Mario who’s the star of this joke: What kind of pants does Mario wear? Denim, denim, denim *say it to the tune of the music from when Mario’s underg round*)

4. You have three hours to live. What do you do?

Cry.

5. Describe the perfect sandwich!

Sharp cheddar cheese and mustard. No joke. I remember being in, like, third grade and my mom had made me a cheese sandwich (mustard is ALWAYS involved, sometimes with chips wedged between the cheese and bread—preferably salt and vinegar…or Fritos…or Doritos…or…Cheetos…or cheddar and sour cream…or…). I was minding my own business, going about taking a bite out of my sandwich, when a classmate asked, “Did your mom forget to melt the cheese?” I was too embarrassed to tell the truth. Well, now I’m not afraid to say it to the entire Internet world: No, the cheese wasn’t ever meant to be melted.

This reminds me: I was at some relatives’ a few years ago. One of my cousins was, like, “I’m hungry. I’m going to have a snack.” Then I saw this:

Melted Cheese on a Plate

Weird. There’s not even mustard (or chips…or bread) to accompany it.

6. What would be your ideal job?

I have no idea. One that I love, where the cash flows in, while I do the minimal amount of work. Let me know if you’ve heard of it.

7. What is the most important thing in your life?

Probably my family.

8. Would you rather fight two hundred two year olds or two hundred chihuahuas?

Either way, it’s not a fair fight. I’d surely win.

Fartin' Margaret

You’re back in eighth grade and your mom makes you sign up for Spanish so that you can be prepared to take Spanish I/Spanish II in high school, complete your foreign language requirement, and move on with your life. When I was in high school, I was the top student in my Spanish classes. Languages came naturally to me. But unlike his super talented foreign-language-learner sister, my brother despised Spanish. In fact, the only phrase he remembers years later from his invaluable Spanish classes is “callate la boca.” Also known as “shut your mouth.” I’m guessing he has heard this phrase one too many times.

There my brother is sitting in his eighth grade Espanol class, learning about flan and how people eat this nasty excuse for a dessert in Spanish cultures. Only 2 minutes ‘til the bell rings, yet time seems to be standing still.

“Flan doesn’t only come in vanilla.”

Tick tock.

“There is also chocolate flavored flan.”

Tick tooooooooooooooock.

“Personally, my favorite is vanilla, though. The texture of it is kind of like a custardy Jell-O. Hey, in fact, I think Jell-O has an instant mix of flan that even comes with caramel sauce!”

Tick toooooooooooooooooooooooooooock.

“I encourage you all to go home tonight and beg your mom to make you flan for dessert. Have her drop what she’s doing, have her go to the store, and buy instant flan mix. But…don’t tell her I told you to say that. Tell her that your education is very important to you and that if you try it you’ll get extra credit. TWO points extra credit!! Also, don’t forget, but your paragraph about your family is due tomorrow. Use your best Spanish.”

Brrrrrrrriiiiiiiiinnnnnnnng!

“Don’t forget, but you also need to include a drawing of your family!”

--------------------------------------------------------------

Here’s a drawing not dissimilar to what my brother turned in:

A few days after turning in his masterpiece, the flan-loving teacher asked to speak to my brother after class.

She probably just wants to congratulate me on how life-like my drawing looks. Or, worse, what if she found out I don't really have a dog?? Dang it, I should have said I have a pot-belly pig, that would've been more believable!

“El Niño, I have a question about your project. In your About My Family paragraph, it says here, ‘Fartin’ Margaret is mi perro. Ella es fea y vieja. Ella no stop yapping. Ella is smelly a tambien. We want to put her down.’”

I bet she’s wondering whether I’m having a hard time at home because I have to put my “ugly and old” dog down. That’s gotta be--she's probably a very sensitive person and wants to know how she can help--what else could it be?

“Now, son, did you know that my first name is Margaret?”

“Uh…no…wow, hmm...what a coincidence."

Yes, but I didn't think YOU'D know the dog was a symbolism for you.

“Here’s your hall pass. The principal’s expecting you.”

True story. My brother hated Spanish and his teacher so he decided to bring the passive-aggressive approach into his homework. Yes, he turned in a picture of a hecka (we Californians use this word sometimes) ugly dog, named it Fartin’ Margaret (after her), and handed it in as part of his “Mi Familia” project, not thinking that she would notice the subtle attack. I guess he was probably thinking she would react in a fashion where she would be overjoyed to know that one of her student’s dogs shared the same name as her. I don’t know. All I know is that my brother is witty. So, if you want to pass your eighth grade Spanish class, you can add an imaginary dog/pig/cow/rat/whatever to your family. Just make sure its name is Loveable Margaret—NOT Fartin’ Margaret. You don’t want to get into a stinky situation.

I Swear

I just heard a bad song on the '90's radio station:

I swear by the moon
And the stars in the sky I'll be there
I swear like the shadow that's by your side I'll be there
For better or worse
Till death do us part
I'll love you with every beat of my heart
And I swear

I actually really like this song by All-4-One. It brings back memories from my childhood, I guess in 1994. I remember, for some reason, that my older brother received this album by All-4-One for Easter. It was his first CD (I think his second CD was Aquarium by Aqua. MY first CD was better--The Backstreet Boys! Anyways...).

So, what makes this a bad song if I like it so much? Well, my mom has always taught me a few things ever since I was a child. No screaming. No kicking. No selling your little brother old rotten Halloween candy. No swearing. No lying. No jumping on the bed. No doorbell ditching. No giving your sister Hawaiian punches...or making your little brother give 'em to her, either. So, you can understand my confusion as a child as to why my mom would give my brother a song that is clearly in conflict with our values. A song called I Swear? What the h-e-double hockey sticks, Mom? Why are you buying us an album with a song on it that is ALL about swearing and then we're not allowed to swear?

To me, the bad words (such as Dang, Heck, Freak, Crap) were known as cussing, not swearing. Swearing was totally different from cussing, but still, both were bad. So, the lyrics to this song confused me a little. I mean, swearing by the moon and the stars in the sky? Sounds pretty pansy to me. If you're going to swear, make it something that actually fits into the bad mode. Like, I swear by the knife and the glass pieces in your hand. It just seems to fit the "wrong" sense more. My mind could not comprehend that you could say I swear I love you and have that sentence be good. I thought that you had to say I promise I love you.

Everytime I hear I Swear I think about the conflict I experienced with my morals as a nine year old: to listen to a song I like (because it's [so] good), or obey my mom and not listen to the song because of its swearing? I chose the latter option, I swear...

PS: Okay, I swear I haven't actually ever sworn in my life. Mom, on the All-4-One CD you gave your eldest son, there's a song on there called (She's Got) Skillz. Yeah, it's not (She's Got) Skittles like you once thought, nor is it about tasting the rainbow through colored candy. Just thought I'd get that out in the open after having just sweared in the previous paragraph.

Try New Things

Everyday when I go to work (at an elementary school, just so you're aware), we do the exact same thing. We verbally repeat the same exact thing every morning during calendar time. Repetition is good for children. Repitition is good for children. As a result, I now have ingrained in this brain of mine the 5 rules of the classroom:

1. Use kind words and kind voices

2. Keep your hands and feet to yourself

3. Raise your hand

4. Follow directions without complaining

5. Try new things

Well, last night I followed at least one of these rules without complaining, and that was Try New Things. Last night I went horseback riding (why is it called horseback riding? Couldn't it just be called horse riding--I mean, where else are you going to ride on the horse?) AND "swing" dancing; two things I have never really done before. Oh yeah, when I was like, six, one time I got to ride on a horse that was pulled along by a rope, but I don't think that counts. Then when I was older like, eight, I was the only person on the saddle and we followed a trail, but that horse just followed the other horses. So, I don't think that counts either.

I was really excited to go horseback riding! (why is it called horseback riding? Couldn't it just be called horse riding--I mean, where else are you going to ride on the horse?--more repetition.) There were three horses that like, twenty of us had to share. There was a tall horse, a medium horse, and a short horse. I, of course, wanted to ride the short horse--you know, less amount of work to get on the saddle, and so forth. Little did I know, the short horse was the feisty one. Great. I hadn't been on a horse for what, over fifteen years, and I have to get the wild one. Not to mention, I don't know what the heck I'm doing. So, my horse would trot without me wanting it to. My horse would bite the other two horse's butts for some reason and get those horses aggravated. My horse even started into a gallop, and here I was, without my feet in the stirrups (because I couldn't reach...sigh) holding on for dear life onto the saddle horn for like, ten seconds. I seriously almost fell off. I would've been bruised--emotionally.

So that was fun. I rode on the feisty one for maybe five minutes. After my turn on her I tried the medium horse--much nicer. Sure, less exciting, but maybe I had just a little more control over this one. Maybe. Still, she didn't exactly do what I wanted her to, but she was calmer...which is good in my book. I rode this one for maybe ten minutes. I found that I really like to ride horses, despite my legs being really sore today.

After horseback riding, we went swing dancing. I have also never done this before...and there's probably a reason for it. I suck. We walk into this room of about thirty people just doing all these swing moves and I'm just standing there in shock. How could I ever do that? I couldn't possibly do that. So, I didn't do that. Good thing my brother was there because he and I just did whatever the crap we wanted. We did dumb moves that no one has ever seen before. Yes, that's right, we made up our very own moves--which was kind of fun. What was even better was that I didn't care. I'm sure those swing-dancing activists were looking at us in horror. Who really "raises the roof" at a swing dance? No one. But my brother and me.

Definitely not my bro and me

This isn't us, either

Getting closer: my dancing could somehow be related to the Elaine Dance

My brother's dance could stem from The Carlton

You know how there's always at least one awkward person at a dance who will generally walk around by himself and just stare? Or start dancing by himself as he tries to fit into some group? Those people are cool! Anyways, there was an awkward girl at this swing-dancing joint. She walks up to our little group and just stands there. Then she tries making conversation with my brother. Obviously, my brother doesn't want to dance with her but the girl is trying so hard to get him to ask her to dance. It's funny stuff watching your brother try to get away but having a girl follow him around everywhere. I guess my brother was trying to get me to ask him to dance so he could get away, but I wanted to watch him squirm--it makes things more entertaining that way.

Towards the end of the dance the awkward girl left. My brother then decided to take on the role of the awkward person at the dance. He tucks his shirt in, pulls his pants up high, puts his hands in his pockets, walks around between each couple, stopping to stand in a spot for a few seconds at a time, all the while having a creepy grin on his face. What a great way to end the night. Made me laugh.

It is good to try new things. I learned not to judge a book by its cover--the smallest horse had the biggest personality. I learned you can make anything fun no matter where you are (okay, this isn't true for everything)--like you can make swing dancing something you enjoyed doing, by making a fool of yourself and dancing however you wanted. I learned that awkward people at dances are so fun to watch. But it's even more fun to watch the expressions on people's faces as the awkward person comes toward them.

I would love to go horseback riding again. However much fun I had at the dance, I do not think I would go "swing" dancing again--it's embarrassing when a guy asks you to dance and you have to explain how you don't know what you're doing. And then he tries to teach you steps, when really, you don't want to swing, you just want to make up your own stuff (or moves As Seen on TV!)...and people-watch...and people-watch...

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.