I spent all of yesterday sitting on my sister's dresser in front of the radio while [trying, and failing] to do school, all in the hopes of being that glorious caller #9 and winning the contest and going to dinner with the one and only tobyMAC, of whom I have his entire discography and dream about meeting him (and Taylor Lautner -- either one would do, for different reasons of course). But alas, my efforts were in vain and I have absolutely nothing of interest to report to you. There was a chance for a question and answer session with Toby, which of course would have been posted on my blog right away so the whole world would see what great friends we are.
Apparently we are not good friends at all.
So if you are one of the lucky caller #9s who stole my rightful position as dinner guest of tobyMAC, I have nothing further to say to you. (Except that if you get his number, could you give it to me? It's only fair.)
And tobyMAC, if you're reading this (which you're probably not, why should I even hope?), all I can say is that I tried.