This Blog is Dedicated to Miriam and my Future Husband, Who She met and Thus I am Jealous

This is the best thing to ever happen to me, and it didn't even happen to me.





So, just a few days after I write a whole blog dedicated to my future husband, Mr. John Mayer, my good friend Miriam meets him. Is this fate? Does this mean we are meant to be together? I think we all know the answer to that question. Not only did she meet him, but it is a damn funny story. Here it is in her own words.



~ Miriam ~ *gravity*says:
the concert alone was euphoric - but that was just the icing on the cake!!


- miss.emily says:
how on EARTH did you manage to meet him?


~ Miriam ~ *gravity* says:
well it was pretty funny because I just had this feeling that we were going to... so I brought a sharpy and my CD with me just in case!! (also I had a feeling because Katie is THE luckiest person I have ever met.. and crazy good things happen around her.. and that was pretty much the craziest and the best thing that could happen period in the universe)


~ Miriam ~ *gravity* says:
(except him asking to marry me. obv.)



Edit: No, he is going to ask me to marry him. Just to clear that up.


~ Miriam ~ *gravity* says:
anyway after the concert she and I really want to go find the tour bus, but everyone was like 'no.. that's not going to happen.. he won't sign stuff, he's too famous..' etc, so we all get in the car


~ Miriam ~ *gravity* says:
then we are having a heated discussion about him and Jessica Simpson - and my friend driving hits the car ahead of us!! she thought he had started moving, and he hadn't, so we nudged him. anyway freaking out but there was no damage so it was OK


~ Miriam ~ *gravity* says:
anyway because of that we wanted to avoid this dude and not drive behind him anymore so while we are recovering from being freaked out we end up in random London and have to loop back towards downtown


~ Miriam ~ *gravity* says:
as we drive past the Labatt Centre once again, we happen to go on the side where the parking lot is.. and out of SHEER coincidence, there is the tour bus, and there are barriers, and a little crowd of people!!!!!!!!!!


~ Miriam ~ *gravity* says:
It Was Him.


~ Miriam ~ *gravity* says:
we pulled into this random spot and we all jetted out of the car!!!! as if we were in a marathon!! he was just working his way down the barrier signing everything and Em he was SO close.

The moral of this story is that I should always go to concerts with Miriam and Katie and that the universe is desperately trying to bring me and my future husband together by having him meet my friends first so we can have a conversational ice-breaker when we finally go on our first date of a life-time of dates.

It's Tuna.

This picture was posted on my future husband's blog with the caption "the most you're gonna get..."

For the slow kids in the back, this is documented evidence that the future father of my children, John Mayer, is walking around outside in Australia with Jessica Simpson, a.k.a. blonde sell-out who thinks buffalo have wings. Umm, hello? John is way too smart for her, plus he's already practically betrothed to yours truly. I know all kinds of facts about Buffalo and Chicken of the Sea and I'm way prettier than her. This is so silly, lets just see if I can fix this...

Ok, this is way more realistic.

You're welcome.

I am not yet jaded. I know this because people still have the ability to surprise me, and I still have the ability to surprise myself.

Cookie

1) So I'm writing a long blog and it's late at night so guess what that means? I'll give you two guesses. Yes, you're right I have an exam tomorrow which means I must do everything but study. So far today I've gone to the gym, gone to Shoppers, talked about having an exam, watched Scrubs and written here. I've done a total of two hours of studying since I've been awake. Enjoy the fruits of my procrastination.

2) Remember how a million years ago I was trying to come up with my top five bands of all time and only could think of four? The fifth spot has been appointed to Metric, yayyyy! Let's have a party where we all talk about our top five, and I'll be popular because I already know mine and don't have to stand there going, "Umm, ahhh, I don't know!" They will probably change eventually, but for now I have some piece of mind. So here are, officially, Emily's Top Five Bands of All Time, aka The World's Top Five Bands because we all know I have better taste in music than the world. Radiohead, Muse, Phoenix, Led Zepplin and Metric.

3) My thoughts before I leave for the gym: "Man, I look good in my tight little workout pants!" My thoughts while at the gym: "I'm fat, I'm fat, I'm fat..." My thoughts after the gym: "I'm still fat, the gym did nothing! I want a cookie."

4) I am an actual chocoholic. People use that word lightly, but really for me it's a drug. I crave it at all points of the day, I think about where I can get it and I get real withdrawal symptoms. I've known that I was a chocoholic for awhile, I went off it for a year and a bit in High School because it started to get out of control, but then one little brownie and I fell back into being a crazy addict. It takes me about three days of not having chocolate to not get cravings anymore. But then, like I said, one little chip and I'm a crazy person again. I tried to not eat chocolate today, but I caved. I want a cookie.

5) I was thinking about my Kindergarten report card the other day, and my teacher wrote that I didn't play with the other children and I was a loner (those weren't her exact words, I hope.) Anyways, I remember Kindergarten and my favourite thing to do was walk around and watch the other kids play. I watched them try to put puzzles together, I saw how the boys always played blocks and the girls always played house. I just realized something: I was a facking psychologist at the age of five! It wasn't that I had no friends or that I didn't know how to play, I just enjoyed watching the social behaviours of my friends. Still, I love people watching, sometimes at the bar I'll stand and just watch the way people interact. I was born to be a psychologist, I tell you. Five years old and observing the play behaviours of my peers, I'm a frigging genius.

6) I still want a cookie.

Fake Mink Pubes

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Dear Fake Mink Blanket;

Your hairs look like long black pubes, which is really embarrassing when I have guests over and they see these pube-looking hairs all over my bed and floor. I don't want them to get the wrong idea so please stop shedding. Thanks.

__________

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I like the way my eyeball looks in this picture. My eyes were blue until I was a year old, then they started to turn green but you can still see blueishness around the outside, which I like. I hate when people say I have brown eyes, they're not brown dammit! No offense to brown-eyed people but I'd rather not be lumped into the majority when I have very interesting not-brown eyes. Look closely, they are green on the inside and blue on the outside.

__________

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Is it weird if you have a sex dream but you're not the one having sex, you're actually watching your two friends do it in your own bed while you're trying to talk to them but they're obviously not listening cause they're going at it?

__________

22 Human Years = 55 Dancer Years

I'm choreographing a solo for myself to be performed in less than a month. It'll probably be the last dance performance of my life, which is a bit discerning. It's a jazz solo to Little Wing by Jimi Hendrix and it's working out OK so far, except for the fact that I haven't taken class in, oh I don't know, about three years. I'm old now in dancer years so things take a bit more effort. And I'm performing in front of all my students and their parents which is also very discerning. They expect me to pull out something amazing because I'm supposed to be an expert at what I do. I'm a good teacher, but my body does not do the things a dancers body should be able to do any more. Every time I jump or turn or bend I need to do an "UGH!" to help me through it. Ugh, God help me.

I had the longest dream last night about eating a hard boiled egg. It was the whole process too, not just eating it. There were no eggs in the fridge, so I had a discussion with my roomies about not eating my food. Then I drove to the grocery store and had to sift through cartons and cartons of eggs that were broken and shattered in order to find one with nice eggs in it. Then when I went to pay I had no money left so I had to borrow five bucks from the old lady behind me. When I got home, all the pots were dirty, so I washed one and sat watching while the water boiled. I waited and waited and finally the egg was ready. When I opened it to eat it, it was black and rotten and disgusting but I waited so long for it I just ate it anyways.

Eggs: To see or eat eggs in your dream, symbolizes fertility, birth and your creative potential. It indicates that something new is about to happen. To see cracked or broken eggs in your dream, denotes that you will suffer from many disappointments and misfortunes. It is indicative of a fragile state in your life and feelings of vulnerability. Alternatively, you may be breaking out of your shell and being comfortable with who you are.

So I'll suffer many disappointments and misfortunes and then get pregnant?!?! I need to stop interpreting my dreams or I'll start actually believing this stupid crap. Now I've got to go... take my pill. And buy some more condoms. Bye.

I'm Too Hot, That's Why I'm Still Single

I've been the most skeptical about relationships and love and stuff lately and here's what people have been telling me is the problem:

Person #1: "You're too beautiful, unique, confident and smart so guys get intimidated by you. You just haven't met someone that can handle your greatness yet."

Person #2: "We both know there are no guys worth dating at Laurier. Just wait until you leave, guys will be tripping themselves just to get a date with you."

Person #3: "You're too picky. Just keep your options open and things will happen."

Person #4: "Guys suck. Just become a lesbian and your love life will totally change."

Person #5: "You're just not willing to settle with something mediocre. You know what you want and what's going to make you happy and don't want to waste your time dating some immature frat boy who doesn't know where your clit is."

Too bad I don't think any of those is the one. I think it's a combination of lack of opportunity and my own fear and inability to act coherent around anyone I actually like. I clam up and answer questions with either nervous laughter or one word answers in a high-pitched, squirrel-like voice, or some combination of both. Even I don't want to hang out with myself when I'm around guys I like.

In other news, each day that goes by gets me closer and closer to leaving this hell hole. But I keep having anxiety dreams. The worst one yet happened a few days ago when I dreamt that my mom killed herself and I woke up with my cheeks wet and sobbing. I immediately called her and she laughed at the thought, telling me she'd never ever leave me. Then I yelled at her for not taking me seriously. Then I called her back and apologized for being a bitch.