Sally's Contact

This was in Sally's inbox:

Saturday, March 12, 2011 3:00 AM

From:"Suzana N. V." <md.suzana@att.net>

To: undisclosed-recipients

Good day

Nice to meet you, my name is Suzana, I found your contact and I picked interest to contact you. I've something very important which I would love to share with you therefore, I would appreciate if you respond back to me so that I'll give you my full details. I am waiting anxiously for your anticipated co-operation.

Yours,
Suzana.

This is now in Sally's outbox:

Friday, June 3, 2011 4:40 PM

From: "Sally Fernandez"

To: md.suzana@att.net

Re: Good day

My Suzana!♥♥♥

Oh, Suzana, now don’t you cry for me. For I’ve come from Alabama with a harmonica in a tree. Hehe, just kidding. I’ve been called a jokester. I’m even considering becoming a comedian. Do you think I’d be good at it, Suzana? I think so—because even just walking down the street, people point and laugh at me. Anyways, I’ve actually come from Mississippi. I hitchhiked the full 9 hours in order to serenade Billy last night. It was super fun! I got to meet a lot of different types of guys, and they all had one thing in common—they each drove a big rig. But Large Marge wasn't in it. <------That was a joke because Large Marge isn't real. At least Mom tells me she's only pretend because she's from a movie. But Frankenstein is from a movie and he's real. I know because I see him every year saying "Trick or treat, smell my feet." And every time I tell him no thank you. (And I don't know if I'm supposed to tell anyone this, but it can be our little secret: he's a lot shorter in person.)

They were all so nice to give me a lift! Especially since I was on a dark, dirt road in the middle of nowhere with signs all around that said Prison Area: Do Not Pick Up Hitchhikers. The first guy who picked me up asked to make sure I was a go-go girl. I told him yeah, obviously. I’m a girl on the go--that I was headed to see Billy! Then he told me how it was just my luck—that he’s been called Billy the Kid once or twice in his 70 years of life because he was, and I quote, "bad to the bone." I asked him if he knew my grandma because she has Osteoporosis, too. And then I told him that he sure doesn't look like Billy. because Billy isn't a kid. Then I think something got in his eye because his eye kept twitching. Oh, wait, there’s a word for that. Blink. He blinked at me.

That guy who claimed to be Billy was a liar. He wasn’t bad. He had a funny bone. Not a bad bone. I don't know where he came up with that. He showed me things I've never seen before. Like jelly beans. Gel candies. I think it's the same gel that Dr. Scholl's uses? That makes it all the tastier! In the shape of beans. Amazing. I'll tell you what, whoever invented jelly beans is a genius, pure genius. The next guy was pretty weird, though. The first thing he said to me was that I could be his prisoner of love. I told him that I didn’t see how that is possible, since I don’t want to go to prison. How I’ve never stolen anything in my life except that one time that I took a dead puffer fish out of a Wal-Mart fish tank. I gave that that away as a gift to my grandma, because she told me for her birthday she wanted a back scratcher. When she saw it, she fainted, out of surprise. A good surprise. What do you want for YOUR birthday, Suzana? When is your birthday, anyways? Billy’s is September 3. Do you think it’s weird that that one guy brought up my criminal history within the first 4 seconds of meeting me? I would never do that to you. The guy then said that we could make our own music. So, naturally, I took his harmonica from the glove box. Then he just stared at me. He didn’t even give me a blink with one eye. Then he asked me how I could be so stupid. But he’s the dumb one. If he didn’t want me to play the harmonica then why did he even mention music?

Sorry for blabbing. I’m ecstatic that you found my contact! I've been looking all over for that dang thing!! How did you find my contact information? Was it from this sign that I only posted on every tree around Billy’s yard?

 

Last night as I was sitting in the tire swing that I purposefully hung right next to Billy's house, to serenade him with my new harmonica, I accidentally bumped into his window when I was trying to catch a glimpse of his cute little face resting against his pillow. As I was against his window, the branch decided to collapse. I banged my head against the window (but don’t tell anyone else because my reputation could be ruined). That's when I think my contact popped out of my eye. Looking on the bright side, though, I can’t see anything out of my left eye. I think I’m in love. Love is blind.

I decided to take advantage of the 45 minutes that my face was squished against Billy’s window, and just gazed at him. I wonder if he was dreaming of me. After 46 minutes and 3 seconds, my butt started to get tired from sitting on that branch. I repositioned myself but I think in the process I hit Billy's window with my belly button, tongue, or something, because he shot right up and just stared at me. As if he'd seen a ghost...or his nightmare. I thought it would be best to coddle him, so I tapped on his window with my nail-less fingers. I yelled at him through his window that I’d been watching him sleep, and how he was perfect like an angel. Then I asked him to kiss my boo boo--that he'd be the only one to make my sore bum feel better. Then I called him my boo, for special effects, you know. He still stared at me. I knew that this request of mine would leave him speechless. It was his dream come true. Literally. So, as he got out of bed and crept closer to the window, paused, peered at me for five seconds, and then scowled, I knew that he was only nervous. He's probably never kissed a girl before.

Get this! He opened the window! I can’t tell you how excited I was. These were the EXACT words he said to me:

"Hey, you. Yeah, you. You can kiss my butt."

Then he slammed the window.

And closed his shades.

This is the moment my heart melted. I knew it all along. Finally he was man enough to admit it.

He wanted me to kiss him!

Okay, I can’t even tell you how excited I was (x56)! Did you know that's the most romantic thing that he (or anyone else) has ever said to me? (Wait, no, one time Billy told me 12 years ago in high school, that he was out of my league. I couldn't believe that he invited me to go bowling!) Anyways, he really DOES like me! How did you know when you were in love? I've been waiting years to hear these words from him. But I’ve always known that Billy like-likes me because I've seen him wear his I ♥ SF shirt to bed at LEAST 4 times this week.

I’m glad I’ve been able to have some girl-talk. Last time I tried talking to a girl, it was to Marcia, but that was months ago and she never replied to me. You’re the bestest friend a girl could ever have, Suz♥♥♥. Am I your bestest friend?

How I N.V. you, Suzana (Ha! Did you catch that? I made a joke using your initials. I crack myself up.), because you have ME as a friend. I promise I’ll be a good one. Just tell me what you want for your birthday and if there’s a boy you like.

Your Best Friend Forever and Ever and Ever and Ever and Ever and Ever (time infinity) and Ever, 

 Sally Fernandez♥♥♥

Here are some pictures of my left contact from when I first got it 2 years ago. These pictures are from all different angles, so you know you have the right one. No, not the right one. The left one. The left one would be the right one.

PS: Did you steal my contact?

PPS: If you didn't then I owe you a kiss. It won't be the chocolate kind of kiss. But you won't be disappointed! It'll probably be more medicated berry balm flavored.

I Am Your Sunshine, Your Only Sunshine

Usually I find myself responding to "that one short girl," my sister's name, or quite simply, "hey, butthead." You know, the usual pet names. However, tonight I find myself being called something that I've never been called before: The Most Sunshine Blog, thanks to Syida. Because if my blog ain't sunshine and daisies, then I don't know what is.

I don't see any sunshine on this picture. I might have to rectify that. Or change the name of the award.

Guys, I just have to tell you that I've been typing in silence. So...I decided to turn on some iTunes to keep my mind from exploding. Know what's really funny (well, besides this joke: How do you wake Lady Gaga up? Poke her face!)? Well, the song that decided to play is...Steal My Sunshine by Len! I don't even know what the heck this song is about, but I love the irony of the whole situation. Kind of like I love cake. But now I'm starting to like ice cream more and more. Mmmm, especially Baskin Robbin's Lucky Mint ice cream. That stuff is to die for. Well, not really. I wouldn't die for ice cream. But, then again, maybe I would from overeating it.

Anyways, you don't need to steal the above award if you really, really, really, really want it. All you have to do is ask. But I'll probably say no. So, if you really, really, like, really (x10.73) want The Sunshine Award 2011, just join the blog hop at the bottom of this post. All you need to do is link up your blog's url and, voila! Millions of other bloggers will stop by your blog and take a looksie. Well, maybe not millions. More, like, hundreds. Pretty good deal, huh? It's a win/win situation for everyone: YOU receive a fabulous award, YOU get more visitors to your blog, and YOU are special (plus, you know, all this stuff about me giving you awards and thingies only makes me look like I'm a saint).

Yes, I really DO look like a saint...a saint who makes flowers blossom from the glow of my stunning face.

Join this blog hop if you want The Sunshine Award 2011 award. If you don't want the award, fine. You're more than welcome to put my altered version on your page. I know that's what you really want. There's no need to be shy here, we're all friends, right? Well, according to this blog hop, we are!

1. Follow HOST'S and CO-HOSTS' blogs through GFC.

Host-Tawna's Journey to a Healthier Me (Click this link to add your blog to the hop!)

Co-Host-My Journey with Candida

Co-Host-Shanimal's Crackers

2. Grab the button and put it somewhere on your page.

To link to this blog, copy and paste the code below into your site. This hop is scheduled to be open until Sunday night at midnight EST.

<a href="http://tawnasplan..com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i754.photobucket.com/albums/xx183/tawna6988/Decorated%20images/Hearts.jpg" border="0" alt="Tawnasplan" /></a>

I got a pocket, got a pocket full of sunshine (oh, so that's why my jeans aren't fitting as well. And here I thought it was just from all the Lucky Mint ice cream. Wow, I'm dumb). I got a love and I know that it's ALL mine, oh, whoa ooooooh.

Oh, wait, it's not ALL mine. You did steal my sunshine. Rainy days and Mondays always get me down.

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.

Strictly and Confidential

The title of this post is the subject of an email I recently received. Now, I hardly ever receive scams via email, but this one kind of made my day because of just how far-fetched it was. I decided to take advantage of this fact and write back a fun little email to the scammer. Please don't believe everything written by him...or me. The words in bold are my thoughts. Enjoy:

The email I received:

STRICTLY AND CONFIDENTIAL:
Monday, January 17, 2011 8:24 AM
From: "mr arwan ibrahim"
To: undisclosed-recipients

STRICTLY AND CONFIDENTIAL :

Dear Friend

I know that this mail will come to you as a surprise as we never met before. I am Mr. IBRAHIM ARWAN, the manager of Auditing and Accounting section of Bank Of Africa (B.O.A) Ouagadougou Burkina Faso. I Hoped that you will not expose or betray this trust and confident that I am about to repose on you for the mutual benefit of our both families. I need your urgent assistance in transferring the sum of Fifteen Million Five Hundred Thousand united state dollars ($15.5mUSD) Immediately to your account.

The fund has been dormant (in-active) for 10 years in our Bank here without any body coming for it. I want to release the fund to you as the nearest person to our deceased customer Mr. Andreas Schranner (the owner of the account) who died a long with his supposed next of kin in air crash since on 31st July 2000. I don't want the fund to go into our Bank treasury as an abandoned fund, so this is the reason why I contacted you, so that my Bank will release the fund to you as the nearest person to the deceased customer.

Please I would like you to keep this proposal as a top secret and delete it if you are not interested (Why? So I don't turn you in to Dateline and have them catch you and charge you with illegally ripping innocent people out of their hard-earned money? No, I don't think so. If you thought I was going to delete this, "Arwan", you were wrong. Instead I'll share this with the blog world. So there.). Upon receipt of your reply, I will give you more details regarding this transaction and also note that you will have 40% of the above mentioned amount if you agree to help me execute this business. And also after the funds has been transfered into your bank account you will take 10% out as a compensation for the expenses you will make in this transaction and 50% is for me. I need to hear from you urgent so that I will give you more information regarding this transaction.

Your Full Name.......................... .?
Your Sex........................... ......?
Your Age........................... ......?
Your Country....................... ......?
Marital Status........................ ...?
Your Occupation.................... ......?
Your Personal Mobile N°...................?
Your Personal Fax N°......................?

Waiting for your urgent response so that we will starts immediately.

Best Regards,
Mr. IBRAHIM ARWAN

(Isn't it funny that his sender name from his email was Arwan Ibrahim, but now when he's signing, his first name is Ibrahim and his last name is Arwan?)

The email I wrote:

Re: STRICTLY AND CONFIDENTIAL:
Monday, January 17, 2011 2:27 PM
From: Sally
To: mrarwanibrahim@gmail.com (Feel free to write this guy if you want the millions of dollars. Tell him "Sally" sent you.)

Dear mr arwan ibrahim

Wow, what a fantastic surprise!!!!!!!!!! I never thought in a million years that I could have the sum of Fifteen Million Five Hundred Thousand united state dollars ($15.5mUSD) in my account!!!! I will gladly give you my info. over the internet (which may come as a surprise to you since we have never met before)...

Your Full Name..........................Sally. That's S-a-l-l-y

Your Sex........................... ......No, never

Your Age........................... ......Are you really asking a woman her age? I don't know about in Africa, but here it's frowned upon :(

Your Country...................... ......Mainly only Carrie Underwood, Martina McBride, and Shania Twain

Marital Status........................ ..In Facebook's terms, "it's complicated"

Your Occupation.................... ....Wonder Woman's double

Your Personal Mobile N°...................I don't have one...but with this new $15 million+ I will finally be able to have one of my very own and not have to borrow someone's. Isn't that just so embarrassing when you've been waiting for your ride to come pick you up and you've been waiting for what seems forever (20 mins.) that you just want to call your ride to find out where they are, but you can't since you don't have a cell?! So, then you have to go up to a random stranger and ask to borrow their phone so that you can call and ask your ride where the heck they are and that you're freezing your butt off waiting in the snow for them? Does it even snow in Africa???? You know where I've always wanted to go?? AFRICA...on a safari!!! You have the best animals there. And I'm thinking now that I'm going to be rich, I can finally make this trip happen and scratch if off my bucket list!! Have you ever seen the movie Bucket List? I have. It was okay. I liked Jack Nicholson better in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest...and the book's even better than the movie. Then, on the other hand, I liked The Shining movie better than the book. I don't know why, but I like "scary" movies, ha, even though 86% of the time they're not even scary. I was kind of disappointed in the book The Shining--too much cussing for my taste. So, do you know what I did? I actually (haha, don't tell anyone) crossed/scribbled out all the F-words in that book, because, hey, I don't cuss and neither should Jack Nicholson's character--it's not very nice. Did you know that I used to think if you said "I swear..." then you were cussing? Of course, I was a little kid when I thought that. Haha, I was a cute little kid. Oh, wait, I think I've been blabbing. But can you blame me? I'm freakin' gonna be rich!!!!! Soooooooooooooo excited. :) :) :) :) :) :)

Your Personal Fax N°......................If I don't even have a personal mobile number, what makes you think I would have my own personal fax number?! Silly goose.

Now I'm waiting for YOUR urgent response.

I'm so excited, and I just can't hide it.
I'm about to lose control and I think I like it.
Ooooohhhh yeaaaaaaahhhhh.

Take care, friend.
Sally

PS: Besides going to Africa, I'm also going to donate at least $2 million to orphanages. I love kids. I think they should be treated with respect and have the best things that money can buy. Of course, I can't give them a good life like Brangelina, but now with this money, I probably finally can. I think Asian and black babies are cute. That's not to say that white babies aren't, though. Well, fine, I just think all babies are cute...well, some are ugly, but, ha, what are you supposed to tell their moms? "Hey, uh, your baby's not as adorable as you think"? Or "Yeah, I don't find your baby remotely attractive to my eyes"? Or "Your baby could win a dog show"? Or "If it's cute to you, then I should probably think it's cute also because that's the nice thing to do"? People don't actually say those things but that's what they're thinking when they see ugly babies. I know that's what I think. I think it but I don't say it...which is the socially acceptable way here. I don't know, maybe Africa is different. Maybe you say whatever's on your mind, like asking a woman her age. Tsk. Tsk. But I think kids in orphanages deserve the chance to be cute, or have at least someone think they're semi-attractive, so that's why I'd donate money to them...to buy them cute new clothes. Or, if needed, a nose job.

To see Sally's reply to yet another man who wants to give her money, click here. Or here.

The Infamous Michael Jackson Joke

Okay, so many of you might not have found the previous post's joke funny...and that's okay...as long as you at least gave me a sympathy laugh. I don't find a lot of jokes funny. But, I did happen to find one joke really funny, oh, seven or so years ago. And now I shall share with you the really funny joke--on one condition: it's wrapped within a story. Are you ready for a bedtime story? Okay, it's called: The Infamous Shannon-Joke-That-Fell-Flat Story. Ready? Go!

It was the night of my best friend's 18th birthday and as a gift, her mom set her up on a date with this guy she had really liked for, like, four years. My friend knew that she was being set up on a date, but she didn't know who it was with. She had no idea it was her crush. When my friend was in her room getting ready, the crush came over with a bouqet of flowers in hand waiting in the family room to surprise her. My friend comes out of her room and who does she see? Her dream man with flowers, nonetheless. What a glorious evening for her!

It wasn't just any date, but a group "date". "Date" because there were five people, three girls and two boys. Obviously there was an odd girl out. That person was probably me--I'm always the odd one. The only person I knew on this group thing was my best friend. The others invited to the group thing were the guy she had a crush on, the guy she had a crush on's cousin, and my best friend's friend. We were invited to go for a limo ride around Sacramento! We were in the limo deciding where to go, and trying to fill the limo with conversation as we made our way to the decided destinations. Since I only knew my friend and am not good at talking in groups (especially to people I don't know), I really didn't have much to say. I couldn't ask my BFF what it's like being in the same limo as her crush because, hello, he's right there. In fact, there didn't seem to be a lot of conversation going on. The whole limo ride is filled with all these strangers trying to make small talk with one another...

"So...happy birthday!"
"Shannon, you've already told me that five times..."
Silence.
Someone else says, "I've never been in a limo before."
"Yeah, me neither..."
Silence.
"Limos are cool."
"Yeah."

You know, that kind of talking.

"Why don't we put on some music?" Someone suggests.
"Okay."

Billie Jean can now be heard playing softly in the background of my friend's thumping heart. Hello, if you were in the same car as the guy you've liked for four years and now were officially on a date with him, you'd be nervous/excited too! Well, this Billie Jean song I faintly hear gives me an epiphany! I know! Why don't I share that Michael Jackson joke with everyone that I had only heard a few days earlier? Great idea, Shannon. I imagine patting myself on the back. Oooh, I'll be the funny person in the car. Get them all to laugh. Then my friend and her crush can start talking about how funny the joke is and branch off of that into different topics, and then, voila! They'll be talking about marriage. Okay, so maybe I wasn't really thinking like that. Rather, I was probably like, Hmm...let's see if this joke can fill the silence with a little laughter for maybe a couple of seconds. I was decided. I was going to share this hecka funny joke.

I pronounce, "Why does Michael Jackson like to shop at K-Mart?" All eyes on me. This is my moment to turn the car ride around into something where the nervousness has eased, and the ice has been broken.

"Because the boys' pants are half off!"

It was sooooo silent that you could hear a pin drop...or just hear the lyrics "People always told me be careful of what you do...". Not the reaction (or lack thereof) that I had expected. Not only was the limo even more silent than before, but now I was probably labeled as the-girl-who-tells-dumb-jokes-that-no-one-laughs-at to these three strangers. Not even a sympathy laugh. Not one. All I ask is that you at least give me a fake laugh. Is that really too much?

I couldn't figure it out. I had found that joke funny enough that I decided to share it with these new people. I would be doing them a favor if they had found it funny. Then they could share it with their families. And then their families could share it with friends. It'd be like pay it forward.

After enjoying our time playing arcades at Sunsplash and eating ice cream at Leatherby's, we made our way home. I asked my friend why no one laughed at the joke. Apparently her crush was a HUGE Michael Jackson fan and didn't much appreciate the joke. And I guess everyone (but me) knew that he loved MJ. Needless to say, the next time I'm in a limo driving around Sacramento with four other people, three of which I don't know, and no one's talking, I've learned my lesson to never tell a Michael Jackson joke because then the joke will be on me. And there still won't be laughter.

Next time you hear a joke from me that you don't find agreeable, just give me a tiny laugh, or even a smile, sit me down, put your hand on my shoulder, look at me with empathetic eyes and simply say, "Shannon, I'm sorry, but that's another Michael Jackson joke." And I will totally understand...it will mean you'd rather hear an infamous dumb blond joke...

A Truthful Joke

Q: What do U of U, UVU, and BYU students all have in common?

A: They all applied to BYU!

(This is the part where you *laugh...heh...heh...heh.)

*If you are laughing, that's becaue you know it's true.

**If you're not laughing, that's because you know it's true.