This... is EXACTLY something I would do.

So, today I had an appointment to look at apartments with my future roommate, Max. Our realtor (Ari at West Campus Living--use her! She is awesome) was nice enough to pick Macks up at Jester and me at my apartment. I went down to wait outside my apartement at 12:05, buck Macks and Ari were nowhere to be seen.

12:07: Nothing

12:10: Nothing

12:13: Finally, the car pulls up and stops. I tug on the handle, the lock pops and I get in. Weird, though, that the front passenger door is opening, too. Why is Macks getting out? Weird, too, that Ari's hair got so much lighter and longer in the two weeks since I've seen her last. Even weirder: Macks has a ponytail.... WHAT'S GOING ON!?

Finally, the driver of the car turns around and gives me a quizzical look. I GOT INTO A STRANGERS CAR!

"Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry! I thought you were my realtor!," I say.

"I'm not."

"Well... yes. That's become apparent. I'll just... go then."

The driver really has nothing to say. I don't know what I would do, either, if some stranger came and sat in the backseat of my car. How awkward. And probably kind of scary, too.

What else is there to say? "I'm really sorry about this," I tell her. "REALLY sorry." I awkwardly climb out of the car and return to my place on the sidewalk, waiting for my real ride to arrive.

So that's MY awkward moment of the day. What's yours?

Reason I consider the trip to Tennessee a success

I did not lock myself in the bathroom on the charter bus and need help getting out.

In all, I would say it was an "....OK!!!" trip.





(Oh yeah... It was also pretty cool that we made it to the Grand Finals!! Woo!)

News Flash

Hey Everyone!

I just wanted to let you know about a special opportunity here on the UT campus tomorrow.

My friend, Sarah, will be competing in a legit fencing tournament tomorrow night, April 16th, at 6pm in Belmont Hall.

I urge you all to go and support Sarah's quest for a passing grade in fencing.

Now, I've personally never seen her fence, but if it is anything as awesome as my imagination tells me it will be, rainbows and wizards and fairies will fuse into one and create milk.

(Hint: After her practical, she was confident she had pulled off some really awesome fencing action. Her teacher then asked her why, exactly, she was having trouble catching on.)

If Sarah's pure talent and love for the sport (activity?) aren't enough to draw you in, there are rumors that Lindsey Lohan will be reprising her talents!

LiLo? Or @sarahownage? The world may never know.

It's going down April 16, 2009. 6pm. Belmont Hall. BE THERE.

EDIT EDIT EDIT: I forgot the MOST IMPORTANT PART. I'm going to be out of town for a regatta, so if anyone can TAPE this, I'll pay you back. Like... take you out to lunch. Or pat you on the back. Or something.

My new friend, Bubba Bubba

When I went home this weekend, I went out on Friday night with my sisters and mom and left my phone at the house. When I picked up my phone when I got back, I was shocked to see that I had five missed calls and three new voicemails! So popular!

Shockingly, these calls were NOT all from Max, either! No, indeed. They were from a number I didn't even know! Curious.

Here is an mp3 of the voicemail.




Uh.... what?!

So many questions ran through my mind: who is Bubba? who is Pookie? WHAT is Bubba? A human... a pet... a feral animal? With what did Bubba cut the fish in half? Would Bubba survive the night? Could Oma possibly be even more upset over the chain of events than the caller was?

Naturally, I had to find out. I called my caller and inquired as to his identity. He still seemed upset over Bubba's actions and gruffly demanded "Who is THIS?"

As I respond "This is Shannon. I got a call from this number...?," my mother has a conniption fit in the corner because I gave out my first name on the phone. (SCARY!) Even though I'm so open and truthful, I still don't get his name.

I ask if Oma's available. He is not. "Ok, I'll call back later, then," I promise.

So, my initial quest for knowledge was shot down and I sort of forget about it for the rest of the weekend. Then, last night at @sarahownage's, I share the curious voicemail with everyone and that makes EVERYONE curious. They persuade me to call again.

I dial the number, but get off to a bad start.

"Um... hi. Who is this?" I ask.

"WHO IS THISS!??" the other side of the phone demands. He's still pissed. Maybe he'll warm up to me if he thinks I know him.

"Um... this is Pookie."

"No. It's not"

"Yeah. It's not... How's Bubba?"

"Excuse me?"

"How's Bubba? I got a call from this number the other night and it seemed like Bubba had committed quite a massacre. I just wanted to make sure he was okay."

"...."

"I mean... Oma seemed pretty mad. I just wanted to make sure he didn't do anything rash."

"Well, he's not buying any more damn fish, that's for sure!"

"Well, that's understandable."

"Do you wanna talk to Bubba?"

"Yes, that'd be great." For a second I was FREAKING OUT because I thought that perhaps Bubba WAS a person. A person who ripped fish in half out of a pond and ate them!

I don't think he expected me to say yes, though, because he was all quiet for a second. He calls for Bubba. The line is silent. Then I hear "Bubba. Bubba Bubba. Bubba."

I'm still processing that part of the conversation because I don't know WHAT that was, other than hilarious.

"So... Bubba's okay then? Still alive?"

"Well, Bubba's seeing stars."

It was a little hard to hear at this point because the room was kind of loud. Misunderstanding. "WHAT? Bubba's being starved??!!"

"No! That would be wrong. No No. Oma just whacked him with a cast iron frying pan. He's SEEING STARS."

Question: Is being whacked with a frying pan better than being starved? I don't know. I'll acquiesce to the humane society on that one.

I've been on the phone with this man for about six minutes now. I consider us friends. "So, what's your name again?" I ask.

"Bubba Bubba."

Denied AGAIN.

On the one hand, I'm glad that Bubba is okay. On the other hand, I'm still unfulfilled by this experience. I made it my goal to find the first name of my caller and I failed.

The way I see it, I have three options: 1) I can give up and admit that I'll never know. 2) I can use the internet to reverse lookup his phone number for $1.95. 3) I can call him again, try to gain his trust, and continue on my quest.

Decisions, Decisions.




EDIT: Oops! Too obsessed with Twitter. Called Sarah @sarahownage. If you DON'T have twitter, go get it. And follow me.