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.

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.

Sally's Claim Form

Remember that last SPAM email "Sally" replied to? Well, she got a response. From Mr. Damien Lewis himself! She did the only logical thing--she wrote back!

The email "Sally" received:

On Wed, Feb 9, 2011 at 12:47 PM
Lewis wrote:
Attn: Sally Fernandez,

We are in receipt of your email and we can confirm that the lottery award made to your email address. Congratulations on the award of $2,500,000.00 (Two Million, Five Hundred Thousand Dollars) to your email address in our just concluded Electronic Promotions held in the Netherlands.
The award sum is deposited in a suspense account in your favor pending remittance. Your winning prize has a hardcover insurance policy that makes it impossible to make any deduction of any kind, until the sum is finally credited into your designated account.

As your assigned claim agent, my duty is to guide you on the procedures to ensure the prompt remittance of the winning sum and I would require your co-operation to facilitate this process.

A vetting process is to be carried out by the Gaming Board to have you validated as the beneficiary. You are expected to fill the attached form below and return, along with a copy of your valid identification document whi ch can be a copy of your passport or driver's license. This is a standard practice to ensure that payout is made to right beneficiary.

This process is vital and urgent, and all prize money should be claimed on or before 14 days, thereafter unclaimed funds would be included in the next stake. You are to keep all your winning information confidential, especially your reference numbers. This is important as a case of double claims will not be entertained.

You can call or send an email, if you require any guidance on how to complete the Claims Processing Form.
Your prompt response is expected.

Regards,

Damien Lewis
Tel: +31 626 006 051
Fax: +31 847 142 735

Sally's Response:

Re: Attn: Sally Fernandez (Claims Form Attached)
Saturday, February 26, 2011 10:17 PM
From: "Sally Fernandez"
To: "Lewis"

Mr. Damien Lewis!

Is it okay if I call you Dam the Man? I think we’re good enough friends now where I can give you a clever nickname. My brother Scott didn’t like it when I called him Scotty Too Hottie. He said that’s weird. I don’t know why. All my friends have crushes on their “brother from another mother.”

I am glad that you were assigned to be my claims agent. And I wholeheartedly trust that you will take me through the correct procedures. You’re kind of like the guide dog to me, the blind girl, in this situation. I have no idea what to do, but you’re right there, telling me what to do--being my eyes. I trust everything you tell me is honest and safe. You’re my dog. In fact, I'm came up with a new nickname for you. It only took me two hours, but I'm sure you'll love it: Mr. Fluffy.

How come you didn’t answer my questions in my last email? Am I too ugly? Do I seem needy? Wait, how would you even know what I look like? Was it because we're only supposed to have a business relationship? You're not a fan of Snuggies? Or is it because my questions were dumb? Why? Whyyyy? It’s okay that you didn’t, but I’m a little hurt. See, guys call girls “fragile,” but did you know it’s not pronounced the way that the dad says it in A Christmas Story? It’s not frah-gee-lay. No, I learned that in my French class. Well, I didn’t really take a real course; I just learned French from some boy named Fritiof, (nicknamed Frito Lay). Oh, on second thought, I have another question: Why is a Game Board validating me as the beneficiary? I hope it’s the game Balderdash. That’s my favorite board game!!! Balderdash: Senseless, stupid, or exaggerated talk or writing; nonsense. My favorite part of that game is making up stories as to why the person on the card is famous. People believe my stories all the time and I usually win.

Hey, can I have your opinion since you’re a guy and all? I was sure Billy really liked me after I called him that one day and I asked him if he’d like to meet up for dinner or something. I even gave him a choice: Burger King or Wendy’s. He told me, “Yeah, sure, whatever.” I was ecstatic!!! At last, I could see my dream of building Billy’s Bridge come true. But now when I call him up to ask him how much he’ll allot me for the meal that we’re supposed to have, I get this recording: This number has either been disconnected or is no longer in service. Do you think this means he loves me, Mr. Fluffy? Because it’s the SAME recording that my mom has and she loves me! *Giggle* Teehee! ;)

I totally get that you don’t want to entertain a double case. You’re probably not in the mood for entertaining after having so much money slip through your fingers every day. That’s probably really depressing. I can relate. Not in terms of money, though. Oh no, this is much more personal. See, gosh, I’m getting upset just thinking about it. I had this collection a year ago. I had been saving up for my wedding night for YEARS. Years. Then, last May, on my 29th birthday, Mom told me to clean my room because the “rancid” cup of milk in my room was “smelling the whole house up!” I don’t know what her problem was. I only left that milk out for Santa. Sure, it was a little early, but I was just showing him how considerate I am of others' needs. Besides, I thought if I could get on Santa’s good side, then my Christmas wish would come true. I left this note on Billy’s front door:

Billy, my Love, Please don’t be scared if a fat man grabs you and puts you in a bag. I asked for you for Christmas!! With all my heart, Sally

ANYWAYS…like I was saying, I was saving my collection of my nail clippings for my honeymoon with Billy. Then Mom came in my room while I was out on the town and “cleaned” my room and threw away my collection of clippings!!! Not to mention Santa’s milk. I was so mad. I said to myself, "Would ya just look at that? Just look at it!" So, yeah, I completely understand things slipping right through your fingers.

Just in case you do happen to get a double case, I have some excellent suggestions for forms of entertainment. I used to do these things with Scott, but shortly after, he'd disown me in public when I'd ask his friends if they wanted to join us:

1. Watch Catfish in beanbag chairs with your two cases! Then again, Catfish is about a person who makes a fake profile on the Internet for attention. Come to think of it, maybe that’s not the most appropriate movie to watch.
2. We could bring my grandma into the picture and watch her (from our beanbag chairs) burp the ABCs! Don’t mind me if I’m putting my nose up to her mouth. I just like the smell of SpaghettiOs.
3. If those aren’t entertaining to your two cases, you could always deliver ketchup peanut butter cookies to your neighbors. It’s the neighborly thing to do.

I have attached the filled-out form and my license at your request. Actually, that’s not really MY license—it’s Frito Lay’s. He said I could have whatever I wanted…so I don't understand why he dropped me back off at the corner in a huff when I said I wanted a picture of his license. Boys!

Your loving new friend,

Sally

(Click on the photo for an enlargement)

The first email from Mr. Damien Lewis.
Sally's very first SPAM email ever!

A Star is Born

My alternate personality, Sally Fernandez, is one lucky girl! People just like to hand money away like it's nothing--and she's always the recipient of this kind act.

The email I received:

RE: NOTIFICATION OF EMAIL AWARD
Tuesday, February 8, 2011 6:52 PM
From: "wmclean@sunbeach.net"
To: undisclosed-recipients

RE: NOTIFICATION OF EMAIL AWARD

We are pleased to inform you of the email reward program for internet users. Your email address was the star pick from the automated ballot system and by virtue of this pick, you are entitled to receive the grand reward of Two Million, Five Hundred Thousand Dollars.

This is a reward program for the patronage of internet services and all email addresses entered for the promotional draws were randomly selected from an internet resource database of registered software and domain users. This promotional draw is conducted in the Netherlands, but email entries were drawn on a global basis.

Reference Number: RGM-1313
e-ticket number: A-8700916
Amount: 2,500,000.00 (Two Million, Five Hundred Thousand Dollars)

For instructions to receive this amount, you should establish contact with the Enquiry Officer using details stated below:
Contact: Mr. Damien Lewis
Phone: +31 626 006 051
Email: enquirydeptlewis@yahoo.cn

You are required to directly contact Mr. Lewis and furnish him with the following information:
Name:....... Address:........ Phone/Fax:....., Cell Phone:......,Email:....., Alternative Email:...., Occupation:...., and E-ticket number:

NOTE: It's important you initiate correspondence with Damien Lewis immediately for guidance to receive the allotted sum.

Marcia brian

Promotions Coordinator


NOTE

contact the clamis agent

My response:

Re: RE: NOTIFICATION OF EMAIL AWARD
Tuesday, February 8, 2011 8:35 PM
From:"Sally Fernandez"
To: enquirydeptlewis@yahoo.cn

Mr. Damien Lewis,

What an honor is is to write you!!!!!!!! And I'm so honored that Marcia referred to my email as the star pick. I always knew I was a star, but didn't think I shined brightly enough for anyone to see the light I give this world. I am glad to finally be recognized...especially with money! I am confused, though, I didn't enter my email into a drawing to be picked. I must have a secret admirer. See, now I can finally prove my point to Molly who said I'll never amount to anything. And I told her, oh yeah, well...you just wait. Someday I'll be a bright, burning star and you'll just be...Molly. I told her this 12 years ago, but I wrote it down in my journal so that I could rewrite my future. And, well, she must've told her boyfriend at the time, Billy, that I told her TO HER FACE that she's JUST going to be Molly and he must've had an epiphany at that exact moment, knowing that he couldn't be with a "just Molly." He ended up breaking up with her 4 years later, but I think the whole time that he was dating her he was crushing on me, knowing that I had potential star power. I knew KNEW they were going to break up! So, I think he entered my email address into this drawing to get back at Molly and to get with me. I'm going to go call him now. Hold on.

After having a very awkward conversation with Billy, I am now furnishing you with the following information you requested:

Name:.......Sally Fernandez (I'm half American and half Spanish--although I don't speak an ounce of Spanish. Oh wait, no, I know one phrase: Mis pies son feos [the translation is: My feet are ugly. I didn't learn what the English translation was until I had been saying this Spanish phrase to every guy I talked to at Molly's request. Then, one guy finally responded to my bad Spanish with an English word: Fetish.])

Address:........Right now I'm just living off the generosity of others and am currently living from couch to couch. I don't have a permanent address, per se (yes, I do know Latin). My least favorite couch to sleep on, though, is the one that's on Dolly Lou's son's hairdresser's cousin's dogsitter's front porch. It gets kind of cold at night, and I'm right next to the dogs. Some would say I'm in the dog-house. But I don't know what that means.

Phone/Fax:.....Again, oh geez, I'm so embarrassed, but I don't have a phone that's also a fax machine. Oh man, now I'm all worried. How will you wire the money over to me if I don't have a fax number? Come to think of it, how will I get the money? Seeing as I don't have a bank account either, you'll probably just have to send me bills in an envelope addressed to my parents. But on the envelope it should say: For Sally's eyes only. Because sometimes my parents go through my mail and they've even read my love letters. Oh, it's so embarrassing. They told me I had, like, 24 letters from Foot Fetish boy, but he kind of creeped me out...but my mom said he's very nice because he even sent samples of toenail polish. Maybe I received a letter or two from Billy but they ripped it up and never showed me (they never liked him, you know, because he probably never sent samples of polish or anything). I don't know, but I think my parents also stole my Harry Potter Snuggie a few weeks ago that I ordered from As Seen On TV. I want my Snuggie now. I don't like having to share Max the Dog's fur coat. Did you know Snuggies can act as a robe-thingy AND as a blanket? It's so versatile.

Cell Phone:......Not applicable.

Email:.....This one.

Alternative Email:....I guess you could email wmclean@sunbeach.net if you want. We've become such good friends ever since I received the email from her an hour ago telling me I've won so much money. I don't know how I could ever repay her...not with my newfound money, that's for sure! I'll probably end up buying Billy a bridge and naming the bridge after him. Do you think Bridge Billy sounds good? I think I will even put a big red bow across it. I will also pick a star from the sky, you know, like in A Walk to Remember, how the boyfriend picked a star from the sky and named if after the girl? How romantic! Well, I'm going to do that too. I'm going to name the star Sally. See, it's kind of like a metaphor because the star is Sally. It's a metaphor for saying I'm a star because we all know people can't literally be stars. That would just be silly. But if there really is a star named Sally, then it can be literal.

Occupation:....I'm doing odd jobs at the moment. My favorite is taste-testing toilet bowl cleaners. My runner-up favorite is cutting my uncle's toe hair. I also like to braid it.

and E-ticket number: A-8700916

I don't know, but this must be my lucky month!! First, I received an email from Mr. Arwan Ibrahim telling me I've inherited 40% of 15 million!!!! Are you guys friends? Ooooh, maybe you're twins--you both have "Mr." as your first name. Cool! I think you guys are saints for just giving money away. You will surely be rewarded in the next life for being honest and charitable--especially to those who need it most. I have a question, you said I receive this much: 2,500,000.00. Now, is that in US dollars, African dollars, or Schrute bucks? Sorry, but you didn't explain as explicitly as Mr. Arwan Ibrahim did. Second, I received $8 from Uncle Harry for braiding--french brainding, nonetheless--his toe hair (yes, I'm also fluent in French as well). That was a surprise because usually he only pays me with Hostess cupcakes.

I am friends with anyone who gives me money. I especially like those guys who drive up to me in their nice sports cars when I'm just standing on the corner licking a lollipop at 1 AM. I don't know why, but they like to give me money like crazy just for being myself. They've even called me their own personal star. Take that, Molly!

I am anxiously awaiting your reply, my dear friend.

Sally

New Found Star

Mr. Arwan's email.
Sally received a response to this email!

My Long, Lost Friend

In one of my previous posts, I wrote about some random number in Michigan who kept sending me picture texts.

The last text I had received from them was waaaaaaaay back in August. Yet, today, as I was cleaning, my phone vibrates. Seriously wondering who would text me in the wee hours of the morning (11:00 AM), I'm hesitant to look at the text I'd received. Much to my surprise and sheer delight, it was Random Michigan Number!!! Oh, how I've missed thee and the excitement thou brings into my life.

Their text:

Lunch at Sushi Thai in Cary NC

I don't know why Random Michigan Number feels the need to share with me everywhere they eat. They probably know that I enjoy eating from the fact that I named my cat after chocolate, but then again, I don't know. Maybe they send a mass text message to everyone in their contact list bragging about everywhere they've eaten in the country. And somehow, I'm in their contacts. Fine by me, whatever floats your boat...

My reply text:

Skittles Lunch in Bed

Their next text: Omigosh!
Guess I won't be hearing from Random Michigan Number again for a long while (give or take 6 months). 'Til next time...and I must say, I'm really looking forward to a picture of a grilled cheese sandwich with the caption Lunch in Hawaii. Because only then would I be jealous.

RMN sent me another picture--in less than 6 months, too. :) I think (s)he may just ♥ me.

Suga Moma

I was just perusing through some old emails, reminiscing on good (and bad) times. My email is like a treasure trove of Shannon-ness. No, really. I've had the same email address since I was, like, 13, so just by browsing, you can easily see how I've grown in maturity (but not in height) within the past twelve years. Nah, not really. Anyways, as I was scrolling through the past decade of my life, I found an old email of a text conversation that I had with a random stranger. Apparently people mistakenly text me a lot? And apparently I like to act like I know these people who mistakenly text me? And apparently I like to save these weird little conversations that I have with strangers? Yes, yes, and uh-huuuuh. They (*cough, cough* meaning my parents) don't call me Shenanigans for nothin'.

August 2007:

Strange Number: How is jr. high so far? whats your favorite class? -aunt michl

Me: PE cuz I like all the eye candy

SN: ben!!! :)

Me: ssshhh, dont tell my parents...

SN: dont worry! its our secret!

Me: thanks youre da best! did i tell u i have a gf?

SN: no...is she cute? whats her name?

Me: yah i wouldnt date someone whos uuuugly...her name is ashley but were not official yet. we only been out once.

SN: blond? brown? black hair? long or short? eye color? maybe you should send a pic

Me: shes my suga moma

(attached was this picture):


Welp, I never heard from Aunt Michl again. I guess she thought Ben's girlfriend had flunked 8th grade one too many times...

Don't worry, Grandma, you're still hot! Just ask your friends on Hotornot! And your Hotornot friends wouldn't even care if, or how many times you've flunked 8th grade...because they think you're tasty just like that corndog you're eating. Mmm-hmm.

Sidenote: I got this approved by Grams before posting it. I told her that she was a "sugar mama," to which she replied, "Yeah, I am." Haha. Love you, Grandma!

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...

Speed Dating

I'm not someone who possesses any kind of special power (unless you count being able to dribble a basketball through your 6'0" opponent's legs some kind of special power) so I can't foresee the future. So, when I posted The Shining...Uh, I Mean the Shiner, little did I know that I would have 16 dates since then. And, one of them happened to be a hot date, too!

This is true. Strange, I know. Well, actually, I've had about 16 dates within the past two weeks. Seriously, what's going on here, Shannon? To make this even stranger, I went on like, 15 dates last night!

It's called speed dating, people. And I met some interesting people.

So, basically, this speed dating thing turned out to be like you've been on a bunch of blind dates (4 minutes each) with people you don't really have anything in common with. Sounds like the blind date I went on the week before...oh, except that guy and I had one similarity: our height (or lack thereof).

Rock On--this is the name of one of the guys I met. Seriously. Except that his last name isn't spelled exactly like that, but he said that his name is pronounced like Rock On. I told him his parents must have a sense of humor. I think he agreed. I think.

Another guy drew pictures to describe himself and what he likes to do. On the paper, he drew a basketball, pizza, a girl, a quote bubble from the girl's mouth--because she's flirting with him, and BYU.

Our conversation went like this:

Him: ...and then I drew this girl because I like women, ladies, girls, females. But I like everyone. I like guys too.
Me: Well, you probably shouldn't go around telling girls who you just met that you like men.
Him: I'm just saying that I like everyone.
Me: I know. But you still probably shouldn't go around telling girls that you like men...or boys.

...not that there's anything wrong with that.

By the time I had that conversation, we were maybe 45 minutes into the whole process, and I was trying to make conversations interesting...to make a general statement that you like everyone, you can expect comebacks. I could've gone a different route with, Oh, so do you think you would've been friends with Hitler? Or, very simply, I could've just smiled and said, That's so cool! I probably shouldn't have joked with him like that, because I don't think he got that I was joking. Oh well. It only lasted 4 minutes for him.

Towards the end, I started talking to people who I had common interests with, though.

With one guy I talked about PaperBoy and Bubble Bobble for the original Nintendo. That was cool.













With another guy I quoted Dumb and Dumber. We then talked about Seinfeld and Pee Wee's Big Adventure. That was cool.

Another guy told me there were around 500 Star Trek books. He wouldn't tell me how many HE owned, though. That was cool, because really, I don't want to know.

Towards the very end of the thing, after talking to different guys about the same dull subjects:

• Are you in school or working?
• What's your major?
• Where are you originally from?
• What are your hobbies?
• Do you like cheese?

it was this one guy's turn to talk to me. He told me he was so sick of making small talk that he just wanted to demolish the building where this speed dating event was being held. Naturally, I went along with the subject. I would rather hear how other people think than talk about myself the whole time. Wanting to know how he'd demolish the building I ask How would you do it? Start a fire, bomb it? (Spoiler Alert: THIS is the hot date) He went on to tell me that he'd crawl through the vent and have his bird fly throughout the vents and drop bombs in various places. Then, he'd have a dog come in through the building with bombs strapped to it. And, would there be anyone in the building while you blew it up? No. In conclusion, I guess he's a good person...unless the dog or bird were killed in the process. The building we were in was a church, though. If he blew up the church, then he'd actually be killing the Spirit and that's (probably) worse than killing a person, probably. But then again, for killing the Spirit you don't get life in prison. How's that for small talk on a first "date"? After explaining to me how he'd blow up the church he then asked me, Don't you think that's a funny story? Well, I think it's a funny story now. I'm sure when I read about this ten years from now I'll just think, man, I met some interesting people through speed dating.

...not that there's anything wrong with that. Really.

So, speed dating can be interesting. Or interesting. Rock on, speed daters, rock on.

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall...?

I worked at a movie theater many, many moons ago. Around seven years ago, though, one night I was put on podium. For those of you who don't speak theater language, this means that my job for that night was to be the greeter and ticket ripper who greets and then conducts the customers to their appropriate screen.

It's horrible to be put on podium. So repetitive. So, when a guy walked into the complex and asked me if I knew where a mirror was, I was glad to have a change of pace and was able to direct someone to the bathroom instead of theaters, of which I was sick of saying Blah Blah is in theater xyz to your right.

Our conversation went something like this:

The dude: Do you know where a mirror is?
Me: Yeah, in the bathroom...
The dude: Okay, thanks.

Thrilling, right? I told him to go ahead and go to the bathroom (since, obviously, that's where mirrors usually are). The guy headed for the bathroom. For a few seconds, I just asked myself how this dude could not know where a mirror would be. Strange people in this world, I tell ya. Then, I moved on in my train of thought and continued with my Blah Blah is going to be in theater zyx to your lefts.

A couple of minutes later, the mirror guy approaches me (again!). What can I expect from him now? Where could he find toilet paper?

The dude: A mirror's not in there. You mean, you didn't see that whole wall that was plastered with your reflection?
Me: Okay...I'm pretty sure a mirror's in there.
The dude: No, I checked and didn't see him in there. Oh great, this guy is giving the mirrors genders and naming them? Geez.
Me: Him?
The dude: Yeah, you know, a mirror.

----------------------Long pause----------------------

Me: Umm...oooooooh. You're talking about Amir! Oh, yeah, I think he's working concessions tonight.

Alas, the mirror dude just wanted to see Amir (which is conventiently prounounced like a mirror). It just made so much more sense! Who's the dumb one now, Shannon? Why don't I just go take a look in the mirror...which is in the bathroom. (That's also where toilet paper is kept, for your information).

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.

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 mountains)

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.