A Very Nugget Christmas

A very merry collection of Christmas quotes/ pearls of wisdom from my pre-pubecent cousins. I recorded these while fighting suicidal thoughts and playing Hello Kitty makeover.

Me: " Nice suit, you look so dapper."
Jesse: "I'm not Dasher! I'm Prancer! Prancer!"

Jesse: "A headband is a game, it's called headband."
Me: " Is this a real game?"
Jesse: "It's a real game. I mean, I'm making it up, but it's real now." 

"The point of this suit is to always be prepared. To always be prepared with pretzel sticks and cool moves." - Jamie

[Regarding a Christmas Eve play that we are both being forced to do] "I'm seven and I have better things to do, aren't you like 20??? You should have, like, a real job." - Jamie 

[Upon opening an iPod case before receiving an iPod] "If I don't get an iPod pretty soon, this is going to be really dumb." - Cale

"Now that I have my iPod, I'm going to get my own app. I'm going to make all my own apps so I can save my iTunes gift card money." -Cale

"This game is called 'Fat Princesses'.  There's a curse in the forest and it made all the princesses fat and I, the knight, have to save them. Which doesn't make any sense, because why do I want to marry a fat princess???" -Cale

^Landon is still actively choosing not to speak,  so I took a quote from his dad instead.

"He makes me never want to have sex again. This thing is the consequence of sex. Don't make the mistakes I did.  Sometimes he drools in my mouth, and I want to vomit." - Uncle Chad

"The true meaning of Christmas is when Santa comes and brings me swim goggles. And when he brings Kathen nothing." -Ella

"You see the big box! Someone got Emma a boyfriend for Christmas!" -Ella


And finally...

" I didn't get coal from Santa.  Santa doesn't even watches me. I got a Tinkerbell umbrella instead." -Kathen

"Mirror Mirror on Emma's wall, who's the fairest of them all?" 

[Puts her ear up to my vanity mirror] 

"It's me! It's me because I'm wearing a Christmas dress and you're in an ugly sweater." - Kathen

"I have two boyfriends, Grant and Brandon. But only Brandon knows I'm his girlfriend. I didn't tell Grant yet."- Kathen

"You're the ugliest grandkid Emma." - Kathen

Ho Ho Holiday Horror

Late November. For most well adjusted adults, it means happy preparations for visiting home and enjoying the holiday festivities. However for me and my brother, November invokes graphic, WWII PTSD flashbacks. I begin profusely sweating at the sight of early holiday decor, and I hyperventilate when I see the Starbucks holiday cups.  This is because, for me and Luke, mid- November means only one unholy thing. We are going to have to take the Christmas card. 

For all intensive purposes, my mom is a normal, benevolent human being. Besides letting me watch "Will and Grace" a little too early and doing half my brother's homework to this day, she's also a pretty good parent. But for a few days in November , this all changed.

My mom is a werewolf and the Christmas card is her full moon. For some reason, she thought the world awaited our family's card and critiqued it like the fall issue of Vogue.  This woman will force me and my brother outside into near arctic conditions, bury us in a foot of fake snow, and scream at us to look filled with holiday cheer.  Although this process should take a mere 20 minutes, it does not.

I popped out of the womb being extremely photogenic. If it wasn't for my complete lack of height, cleavage, or all around facial beauty, I could be a Victoria's Secret model. My brother, on the other hand, cannot smile without looking like an obese dog who just pooped on your carpet.

In the 1990s me and my brother were at our most adorable, so my sociopathic /perfectionist mother felt the need to show the world via holiday stationary. This means that, in the 90s, my mom would take about 6 rolls of film, drive to get them developed, and end up with 200 pictures of my brother looking like he had just soiled himself.

This is why every Christmas card shoot took no less than a week, and why wreaths and red sweaters now make me lose all color in my face. My mind flashes to my mother, holding a giant camera and tossing cotton balls at our faces, screaming at Luke to "show his goddamn teeth".  Luke and I are sweating profusely in our vintage holiday overcoats, grasping hands and praying to an unmerciful God for salvation.

The whole time I'm trying to hold my perfect pose, so I can go play the Sims. Eventually, I punch my brother in the crotch out of frustration and run into my closet to hide from the bloodbath that will occur when my mom locates me.

The Christmas card is my personal Vietnam, Vietnam but with itchy, matching sweaters.  Here is a collection of some of Cindi Tyler's finest holiday classics.*  I think you'll all agree they were worth the hysteria, emotional scarring, and nose bleeds.

 ^ For this ridiculously staged masterpiece, we take you back to the early 1920s. A simpler time, where young boys dressed like Amelia Earhart and young girls dressed like little brown turds in berets. Who was she fooling with this one??? It is clearly October, we are clearly standing on a piece of white felt, and if you look behind the mailbox you can CLEARLY see leaves on the ground. Also, if I remember correctly, these Depression- era outfits were purchased at a flea market and smelled like newsprint and polio.

^ NONE OF THIS IS REAL SNOW. MY MOTHER PURCHASED INDUSTRIAL- SIZED PACKETS OF FAKE SNOW TO STAGE A FAKE SLEDDING ADVENTURE. Not to mention we are wearing ugliest sweaters known to man, I'm honestly surprised they even made two of them. Also, my brother looks completely constipated. He looks as if he is trying to enjoy this sledding adventure, but can't because he's currently undergoing out- patient surgery.

  

^ My mom had a thing for sibling photo shoots with slight undertones of incest. There is an infamous picture hanging in our hallway of me and my brother (ages 2 and 5) kissing on the lips. Why child services wasn't called at that point, I'll never know. This weirdly sexual, vintage- themed card featured me and my brother under the mistletoe. Why a brother and sister are under the mistletoe in the first place IS A COMPLETE MYSTERY.  In my mother's defense this creative theme was probably just a way to keep my brother from doing his creepy, murderous clown smile. These vintage hats were also a flea market purchase, and I'm pretty confident an elderly man died in the one Luke's wearing. 

^ From incest to Catholicism, the world's most secular family takes a turn for the religious. Was our camera direction to seductively pet the baby Jesus? Why is the ceramic camel so prominent in the shot? Why do I have the haircut/ the Talbots apparel of a soccer mom in the 5th grade? My mom just got lazy with this one, it's clearly mid- November and she didn't even attempt to pour Q-tip fuzz all over us. Not to mention my brother looks like the lovechild of one of the designers from "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" and Matt Bomer.

^ Just to prove child abuse doesn't end when the victims hit puberty, we have this fine piece of work. In a fit of artistic rage, Cindi made my poor father transport the giant wreath that decorates our garage, and hang it on bungee cords in our foyer.  At this point I am in high school. I am a high school student, wearing a matching his-and-hers plaid scarf, standing inside a giant wreath.

My brother looks like he either just underwent a liver transplant or is auditioning to play Eddie on a re-boot of "The Munsters".  My mom demanded she curl my hair, which gave me the look of an elderly prostitute (along with a few curling iron burns, that were allegedly accidental)

Please keep in mind, these are all winning shots. These glamorous portraits hit the presses and were sent out to the world. Nothing says Christmas like eternal Tyler family shame.

*Although ALL these pictures suggest COMPLETELY otherwise, my brother is a masculine, heterosexual young gent.

Emma Does Midtermz

I just got all my midterm grades back and, surprisingly , I did pretty well. I know that was not the case for all you NU nerdlets, so I thought I would post my studying process so you can learn from my success. Did I mention how awesome I am?

My first midterm was Stats. Me taking a stats midterm is literally the equivalent of a sitcom character doing the gag where they try to be two places at once (This happened a lot in Hannah Montana). I have faked my way through approximately 8 years of math. Once we hit long division, I realized that this shit was not my style. I also stopped taking math at Algebra II, the pope has actually declared it a religious miracle that I graduated high school/got into Northwestern/can function in society without acting like Forrest Gump.

As someone who still adds on their fingers, this stats midterm terrified me. I got my enginerd cheerleader friend to tutor me, I studied in the middle of my house in a lax pinnie and no bra until my eyes bled, and I eventually began thinking of ways to make a human centipede Halloween costume. I stayed up all night and paced in my bathroom for 20 minutes loudly singing "When Will My Life Begin" from the award- winning "Tangled" soundtrack.

I then went into the midterm and produced the mathematical equivalent of projectile vomiting on the test and handing that masterpiece in. 

I then indulged in a sleep- deprived mental breakdown. I wandered around downtown Evanston for 30 minutes while crying Kim Kardashian style on the phone to my mom. Just picture a crying girl in a tear-stained, over-sized fraternity sweatshirt yelling about her deceased grandfather being disappointed in her because she doesn't understand regression lines and wandering through your local Starbucks.

I then went home, dropped the class, and fell asleep holding a bagel.

For the rest of my midterms, I really needed to buckle down. I went to the library and applied some of those "study skills" that St. Paul the Apostle tried desperately to teach me when all I wanted to do was be 10 and play M.A.S.H.

I set up shop in a cubicle in the ultimate pit of human suffering that is Main Library. I opened my Spanish books and got out my computer to listen to translations. After about half an hour, I had two tabs opened on my computer, a YouTube video titled "Top 25 Most Romantic Disney Moments" and an article called "Best Cat Memes of 2012". 

I then ate a granola bar to stay focused. And by stay focused, I mean staying alert while I searched the Internet for photos of Paul Ryan shirtless and insider info on the new Star Wars film.

I had both my soc midterm and Spanish midterm on the same day. You would think the day of these two important exams I would really get in the proverbial zone. I instead watched videos of Boo the Dog wiggling his ears and nibbled on hummus until it was time to take the exams.

My Russian Lit midterm was the next day. Unfortunately, this was the day before Halloween. So clearly, I sat in the library watching Glee Rocky Horror on my laptop and thinking about all the pumpkin flavored things I would eat the next day.

If Sparknotes did not exist, I would currently be the world's sassiest T.J. Maxx employee. 

I went back to my room, where I put on a dramatic play to the unwilling audience of my two roommates. This critically acclaimed one woman show was entitled, "I Think I'm Going to Fail Russian Lit Even Though I Won't , I Just Really Want Pumpkin Bread and Need to Be Dramatic About Everything." 

After this freakout, I managed to squeeze in some last minute studying. And by studying, I mean I made extensive dinner reservations for my family's Disney World spring break trip. This proved more difficult than expected, as the restaurants needed to suitable for Kathen. It is nearly impossible to find a restaurant covered in glitter that also doesn't allow fat people inside.

I woke up the next morning, took the test, and did fine. I then inhaled a pumpkin spice latte and a slice of pumpkin bread.

There are two main points you should gain from post: 1) There's no way I should've been accepted to Northwestern.  2) I should probably hire a life coach/ become heavily medicated.

Taylor's Got Words Like Knives, Swords and Weapons She'll Use Against You

You probably know exactly what I'm referencing in this post title, because anyone with a female reproductive system is born knowing every single angsty lyric to all Taylor Swift songs.

I'm not hating on Taylor, I can't even pretend. On my list of guilty pleasures, her sing-talking, men-hating, country- pop is #1.  I have a theory that every girl secretly likes Taylor Swift. You can hate everything about her, but your high school self can't help but identify with unrequited chemistry class love.

Every girl has a tiny voice in her head that is a vindictive sociopath who kills all 6 of her cheating  husbands. In everyday life, we push that voice into the recesses of our women brains and try to act like normal, chill human beings who won't text you 235 times in one day and make you our cover photo after 2 dates.

Taylor Swift is that voice in our heads. Taylor thinks its okay to plan a honeymoon with someone you've never met, and it's totally chill to light a guy's dog on fire if he doesn't call you back. She's every girl's secret release for their inner murderer.

In honor of her new album I'm counting down the worst of the best, the lyrics so bad they're good. And I'm doing it all for the queen of unhealthy obsession and 2 week relationships, T. Swizzle.

10) Picture to Burn 
Do you ever have acid -induced  fever dreams about destroying an ex-boyfriend's house? Are you flirting with a restraining order? Do you like the thrill of getting arrested for breaking and entering, but also enjoy a good rhinestone guitar? Then this song is for you. Tay lets loose on some sexist NASCAR enthusiast who wouldn't let her drive his redneck truck, and made an awesome trespassing themed music video.

Best Lyric: "So go and tell your friends that I'm obsessive and crazy. That's fine I'll tell mine that you're gay." 
^ Single best line in any of her songs, because what girl doesn't tell her friends the asshole they dated is a closeted homosexual?

9) Teardrops on my Guitar Anyone with a female reproductive system loves this goddamn song. Every girl has been secretly obsessed with some man who looks like a Disney prince and has been friend-zoned hardcore. I am the undisputed queen of the friend-zone. I live in Friend-zone, USA and pay a pretty high property tax. (Just because I like football doesn't mean I don't also like making out with your face). I love this song because it was the first time we realized this bitch was out for blood. Drew was a bit of a douche, and the whole world was going to hear about it.

Best Lyric: "So I drive home alone, as I turn out the light. I'll put his picture down and maybe
Get some sleep tonight"
^ #foreveralone and making out with a picture

8)Fifteen She legitimately tells the entire universe her ginger best friend lost her v-card to a total toolbox. What. Taylor. You just can't do that. BUT SHE DID.

Best Lyric: "And then you're on your very first date and hes got a car. And you're feeling like flying." 
^ WHAT?!?!? He has a freaking car?? MARRY HIM! Drop out of high school and marry him in a Pinterest-style barn wedding immediately.

7) Sparks Fly
This is the musical version of every bad romantic comedy that gives you hope for true love with Matthew McConaughey. This song exists in an alternate universe where men drop everything they're doing to make- out with you in the rain. It is misleading, but it's an excellent song. This song is also mainly about Taylor wanting the D. It's all about how she just can't wait and needs to kiss his face immediately. I like her style.

Best Lyric: "You touch me once and it's really something You find I'm even better than you imagined I would be"
 ^ A causal reference to the imaginary sex she dreamed of them having for the past four months.

6) Forever and Always
This song is about Joe Jonas breaking up with her via telephone. She was not pleased. I saw her perform this song at a concert and she kicked a couch over. I am now beginning to realize she might be a Hulk-like alien brought to this Earth to take the male species down a notch.

Best Lyric: "'Cause it rains in your bedroom, everything is wrong It rains when you're here and it rains when you're gone."
^ Why is it raining inside? Is the rain her tears? I think she just got lazy with this metaphor.

5) Better Than Revenge 
I think this is when America realized Taylor Swift was actually batshit crazy and we were paying her millions of dollars to sing about stuff she should be talking over with a therapist. Apparently Camilla Belle stole Taylor's boyfriend, killed her whole family, and lit her dog on fire, because this song is just ruthless. In all fairness, she did take him faster than you could say sabotage.  This song is so bad it's good. It was emotionally torturous for me to pick a favorite line because they are all so beautifully hateful. (She straight- up calls her a giant slut in that mattress lyric) And any song where there are a few lines of just straight talking, you know shit is about to get Tayloriffic.

Best Lyric: "Sophistication isn't what you wear or who you know. Or pushing people down to get you where you wanna go. Oh, they didn't teach you that in prep school, so it's up to me. But no amount of vintage dresses gives you dignity"
^What does this even mean? It's awesome because it literally makes no sense. Why vintage dresses? Also, my borderline schizophrenic high school Latin teacher once put this on the board for the quote of the day. He had no good explanation except that Taylor Swift " was a prophet who understood Roman morals". 

4) Should've Said No 

In all seriousness, I think this is Taylor's most honest and just totally accurate song. At some point in her life, every female just gets totally fed up with the "I'm sorry"s.   If you are so sorry, why did you act like such an asshat in the first place? Don't put your private parts in places they're s not supposed to be, it's not rocket science. You will get broken up with, and your ex-girlfriend will belt this song in her Honda Civic for the next 3 weeks until she gets over you and starts dating a soccer player. 

Best Lyric: "You should've said, "No!"  You should've gone home" 
^ Seriously, just call your mom/ a cab/ or wait 18 hours for a SafeRide. If would've just gone home, you could still be dating this emotionally unstable blonde Amazon woman who has named all your children already.  

3) Mean Sometimes I get the feeling that's me against the world, when in actuality "the world" doesn't  really care about how much 30 Rock I'm watching or how bad I am at karaoke. This is the ultimate anthem for kids who were weird in high school. Therefore this song is the anthem of everyone at Northwestern. It's a nice way to lyrically flip off the kid from high school who played football and never invited you to his cool lake house parties. You're going to be an investment banker with a hot spouse, and that kid is now either attending community college or working for his dad's landscaping company.

Best Lyric: "I'll bet you got pushed around, somebody made you cold But the cycle ends right now 'cause you can't lead me down that road."  
^ See song number 5 on this list. This is when we all realized Taylor was just full of shit. She probably never even dated John Mayer. 

2) We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together Like Ever. This song is an anthem for all annoying high school relationships where you break- up everyday during 6th period. It's an anthem for the one girl whose friends all secretly hate her because she never shuts up about her horrible relationship. Nobody wants to listen to how he broke up with you on Facebook chat during lunch. I'm just tryna eat my giant cookie and talk about my homecoming dress.

Best Lyric: " Huh, he calls me up and he's like, I still love you. And i'm like, i'm just, I mean this is exhausting, you know. We are never getting back together, like ever." 
^ She just straight up talks this. Not even an attempt at singing this. Perfection.

1) You Belong With Me 
If you can listen to this song without pumping your fist in the air and singing into a hairbrush, you're probably a terrorist. This song is for every girl who liked a guy in high school but he was dating some girl who sucked. This sucky girl was really skinny, wore NARS Laguna bronzer, and was probably on homecoming court. So basically this song is for every lonely girl in America who ever lived. This song is also about being in trapped in the 5th circle of hell, the friendzone.This song could also be titled "Why Won't You Love Me? ".
Also, have you seen the music video for this song??? She plays both herself and the evil brunette girlfriend. She literally just wears glasses to look nerdy, and simply takes them off to become beautiful at prom.  It's like ABC Family had a lovechild with a Disney Channel Original Movie. The video, and her brunette wig, are flawless.

Best Lyric: "But she wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts. She's cheer captain and I'm on the bleachers."
^  It's American high school stereotypes summed up in a song. Because everyone who was cheerleader in high school dresses provocatively, drives a convertible, and is a giant bitch. The cheer captain will be dating the star football player. She will probably secretly be cheating on him. The star football player actually belongs with the nerdy cute girl. Also, one or more of these characters may be a sexy teenage vampire.

This is Journalism

I use this blog to inform people about issues dear to my heart and important to this great nation. Watch this video that has nothing to do with America and everything to do with kittens.

Adulthood is for Tools

Recently my best from high school turned 20. Right around the same time, my Artist Barbie roommate turned 21. I , of course, took these two events and made them all about me with a casual mental breakdown.

Twenty. Twenty-one. My friends are getting old. I am getting old. I will turn 20 this year. I literally don't own a pair of matching socks. I sleep exclusively in Star Wars pajamas. I'm screwed.

When I was 8 and walked around family parties rocking butterfly clips and jelly shoes, I was often introduced to older people. I still remember meeting certain people and learning their ages. If my mom told me someone was 20, I considered them an adult. They had serious relationships, body hair, and knew what the hell a 401K was.

That will be me in March. Will my family suddenly start expecting to bring someone home for Christmas? Will I need to learn how to actually write a check without calling my mom? If the answer to either of these questions is "yes", I'm about to be the worst adult ever.

Will I feel any different? Will I have to live by a new set of rules? Is going out on a Monday unacceptable when you actually turn 21?

All though these questions are a true mystery for me, I can pretty much guarantee I can not do certain things once I enter my 20s.

20. I can no longer tell my mother ," Shut up, Phineas and Ferb is on"

19. I can no longer walk around my hometown in my high school cheerleading t-shirts and Ugg boots without a stitch of makeup.

18. I probably should stop describing myself as being "knee deep in a bottle of Skol".

17.  I will need to learn how to operate a stove without destroying myself and everything I love.

16.  I can no longer cancel all my plans because of a Rizzoli and Isles marathon.

15. I can no longer describe the aforementioned Rizzoli and Isles marathon as " my best day of 2012"

14. I should stop getting rides to places/events by promising to make- out with the driver.

13. I really need to learn how to successfully deal with emotions, in ways that aren't watching "Tangled" alone and fighting back tears.

12. I need to stop caring so much about my high school's homecoming court. That is irrelevant to normal adults.

11. I need to stop telling people I've been to Disney World over 15 times.

10. I need to stop begging my parents to take me to Disney World.

9. I should learn how to use an ATM without experiencing a very small (but oh so real) panic attack.

8. I should figure out how health insurance works. Do I have it?

7. My birthday can no longer be a week long festival. It is a singular day. 

6.  I should stop making lists and/or charts to determine the perfect Halloween costume.

5. My latest Google searches can no longer include "giant tiara store" or "Phantom of the Megaplex"

4. I need to learn other ways to deal with speeding tickets besides crying/ telling the cop my boyfriend's dad is the state's attorney.

3. I should buy a thermometer without a cow on it that doesn't  moo when it reads your temperature.

2. I need to stop getting so excited about McDonald's. 

1. I really need to figure out how to operate a DVD player.

Current State of the Union

That's right, it's time to get all Massie Block up in this bitch. Gonna go put on some Glossip Girl to bring out the amber flecks in my brown eyes.

In
Under Armour
KIND Fruit and Nut Bars
Bobb McCulloch
Snapchat
Mustard's Last Stand for lunch
Hair Spray
Russian Lit 
Internet Cat Video Festival


Out
Adidas
Nutella and bread
Swanky downtown apartments 
Sexting
Ralph Lauren for lunch
Edge Tamer
Journalism in any form
Watching cat videos alone

I Be Up in The Gym..

... just workin' on my fitness.

So this summer I joined a gym. It's a really nice gym with a pool , a yoga studio, and scented towels. It's around the corner from Sprinkles Cupcakes, but that's neither here nor there. And after these few months of pumping iron, I probably could now be considered a fitness guru.

I'm just so sick of people stopping me on on the street and asking about my body. They always ask me, " What's your secret ?"  or "How ever do you maintain that Kate Hudson circa 1980 physique?!"

And I tell them the truth, it's not easy. I follow a strict diet of Greek yogurt and Cinnamon Toast Crunch, plus I  have my own patented work out plan. But I've decided to share my tried and true fitness secrets with the masses, so you too can obtain abs of steel.

1. Go on an elliptical and listen to your iPod. Put "Danza Kuduro" on repeat until you forget there are other people in the gym and start doing weird little dancing hand motions. You could also start singing in fake Spanish aloud. This will cause everyone around to leave, and you can now turn the TV closest to you to the Bravo reality show of your choice.

2. On the way into the gym, stop in the gym's apparel store. Buy a bunch of cute yoga outfits and tell yourself you are going to start taking yoga. Never attend yoga, but wear the comfortable clothes all over town. This way people don't assume you're too lazy for real pants, but that you simply came right from an intense yoga class.

3. Go into the gym's stretching area. Instead of using the mirrored walls to examine your squat technique, use this opportunity to fix your hair. That messy bun could use a few more bobby pins, you sexy fitness queen.

4. Get on a treadmill and walk on the slowest speed setting possible. This is necessary, because if you start going too fast you could miss important plot developments of a "Gallery Girls" rerun.

5. As you are perfecting your barely moving treadmill walk, an extremely fit brunette might get on the treadmill next you. She will start showing off and running. At this point, you need to race her to prove your superiority. Crank up your settings to match hers and refuse to get off until she does.

6. This race will probably cause you to tear your ACL or something equally as dramatic , you must now skip the gym for the rest of the week.

7.  Start attending early morning workout classes to start your day off right. However if you wake up too late to get Starbucks on the way, skip the class altogether.  Now feel free to sleep until noon and watch Dr. Dolittle on Netflix

8. Get hit on by the creepy gym janitor, feel great about yourself, immediately leave the gym , and reward yourself with a muffin on the way home.

9. A great way to end a workout is with a nice, refreshing steam. Go sit in the steam room for a bit. Then be freaked out by naked people and an intense fear of being locked in Final Destination style. Leave quickly.

If I Should Die Before I Wake...

One of my favorite parts of Mindy Kaling's book is the section where she leaves explicit instructions for her funeral. I am also just as important and famous, so I decided to do the same.

I hate funerals/ wakes. They suck and are held at creepy places that smell like wax. I want my funeral to be like the Irish funeral depicted in the classic film  "P.S. I Love You". But not at a pub, at a trendy bar with ceiling drapery and white leather couches that are low to the ground. And instead of shots of whiskey, my 12 closest loved ones will have to down a hot pink Cosmo before they can say what they love about me and flip the glass over on top of my little sparkly box.  (My remains will be in a small, antique-y looking box covered in large rhinestones)

I don't want everyone wearing black, because then it looks like a goddamn episode of "The Addams Family".  It can be a classy mix of black and white, so it looks like Diddy planned it.  ( Be strict about this, nothing ruins a black and white party like some asshole trying to great creative with pink accents. It's tacky).

After my friends do the Cosmo Irish funeral thing, there will be one official eulogy. This could be designated to my loving astronaut/ investment banker husband. However, if he is too distraught to speak or does not exist, my cousin Kathen can do it.

No reading of anything unless I wrote it. No poems by Emily Dickinson or Bible verses. This is a celebration of me, and therefore everyone needs to celebrate my magic way with the written word. An option for this is someone performing a dramatic reading of my most profound tweets.

"If you're taking flash photography of your baby on a 9 am train , I probably hate you." -August 2012

"I want my life to be like the post- war Harry Potter years, all of the magic and none of the fear."- June 2012

"I'm so glad ugly people can find each other and be happy."- October 2011

"If I had to be buried alive, I would be buried alive in Easy Mac because I'm confident I could eat my way out."- September 2011

Nothing religious, unless my grandma is still alive. In which case this whole thing is irrelevant, and I will be buried like the 18th century Roman Catholic saint she always wanted me to be.

I want upbeat pop music to be playing so everyone will remember how fun I was. There should also be an open bar, because the best way to deal with sorrow is alcohol and Rihanna jams.

There should be food. I hate going to something and there not being food. If I am going to make people turn off  a great episode of "The Mentalist" and put on pants that aren't of the yoga variety, there will at least be some mini corndogs offered. There probably should be a cupcake tower too.

Also, there should be a photo slideshow of pictures of me where I looked my hottest/ most fun. However, no bathing suit pics because I am not a trashy trailer park tween on MySpace.  In between the pictures of me,  the slideshow should include of the clips from all the Harry Potter films where there is apparent sexual tension between Ron and Harry. (Anyone who knows me , knows I enjoy nothing more than pointing out those erotic moments during a 12 hour HP marathon). 

 

(This picture could definitely be used. I look sad and pouty because I'm dead and can't drink vodka with my friends. Also, it showcases me in my natural state of never wearing pants)

 Ex- boyfriends are most definitely allowed at my funeral, if only so they can see the pictures of me at my hottest. They can slowly weep over how they wasted their chance with me, and missed their once shot at true happiness because I am awesome. As Mindy Kaling wisely decided, no current girlfriends of these ex- boyfriends are allowed. They will, in fact, only use my untimely passing to look hot and bitchy in a black dress.

Finally, once the funeral-ish part is over, a raging party should be begin. If my friends and family don't celebrate my life by getting intoxicated and drunk dancing to the Spice Girls, you are all doing my memory a great disservice.

10 Things That Are Easier Said Than Done

10.  Quickly shopping at Forever 21 without experiencing a mild epileptic fit.

9.  Showering without getting your hair wet.

8. Going to the Keg sober.

7.  Going to Flattop and then Andy's for a light dessert.

6. Taking NyQuil to go to sleep and then not experiencing a very real exorcism/ the second coming of Jesus when you have to wake up at 8 a.m. for Journalism 201-1.

5.  Actually working during the day, instead of Googling "Mischa Barton fat" for 6 hours.

4.  Pulling off trendy hats and no one questioning your sexuality.

3. Going to Chipotle without Grace.

2.  Going to a work-out dance fusion class and not ending the experience with self conscious tears.

1. At - home bikini wax.

The Worst Person in the World

A lot of people have said to me, "Emma , you seem to hate almost everyone, you should blog about a person you really hate!"

Which I think is a great idea. I mean, when has cyber-bullying ever yielded negative results? I mean, I'm pro-bullying in general. I was bullied for the majority of my young life for a having a weird middle name and a hot mom. But look at me now! All that verbal abuse has allowed me to develop a mean- spirited sense of humor and an inflated sense of self. 

So here it is, a list of 5 things that make one person in this world just the worst. And as you all already knew, that person is me. Seriously, I suck.

1. Please stop telling the same long story over and over again. No one cares that Harry Caray held you as a baby after your parents took you to "Pocahontas". Just like no one cares about the one time your dad saved a mouse and you named it Alfredo. Just because some one in Sargent once told you that you were a great storyteller, does not mean it's true. If you keep telling your friends boring stories about your senior year A.P. Euro class , they will eventually smother you with your own sweatpants collection. Just shut up already, you sound like a drunk uncle at Christmas. 

2. You do not look like Hayden Panettiere. Stop saying that. She has way better eyebrows than you and she can pull off spaghetti straps. No one agrees when you suggest you look like her. And if they do, they're lying. I get that she often plays a cheerleader and has a large forehead. Your similarities end there. She has movie star good looks, you do not. Get over yourself psychopath.

3. I've met 4th grade girls with a better developed taste in music. "Legally Blonde: The Musical" is not an appropriate answer for the question, "What is your favorite band?" You constantly say that you don't enjoy concerts, but that's because you never listen to any good music. Unfortunately for you, "The Little Mermaid" soundtrack does not go on tour. It honestly wouldn't  kill to explore some music that isn't featured on iTunes Top Songs list or sung by animated crabs.

4. You are ridiculously horrible at math. How do you expect to make it through life like that? You stopped taking math at Algebra II ? How did you even get into college? I don't think you even understand the latent hatred all your friends probably have for you. They are the only reason you passed your pathetic three years of high school math. You could at least learn how to calculate tip or figure out how much you owe at group meals. You just end up throwing wads of singles at innocent friends, and dangerously under-tipping waiters at Eggsperience.

5. Being from Joliet does not make you that good of a dancer . Just because years of age inappropriate grinding at the St. Joe's grade school dance has taught you how get somewhat low, and years of cheerleading has allowed you a mediocre sense of rhythm, does not mean you are Beyonce. You were not considered a good dancer at your high school, so you're having a field day in college. All those white, nerdy, uncoordinated Wildcats are boosting your self- confidence to unhealthy levels. Stop dougie-ing at family events, and please don't attempt complicated footwork on a slippery dance floor again.

Miley Cyrus Was Right All Along

But not about the whole teenage marriage thing. I can't wait to see that backwoods- but -with -Disney-money wedding celebration. Between her hillbilly clan grinding to "Achy Breaky Heart' and Hemsworth's muscular, Australian stoner family, this thing will be oozing Cyrus class.

But Miley Ray did really hit the nail on the head with one of her earlier tween jams. No, it's  not the spine-tingling ballad to Nick Jonas, "7 Things".  I'm talking about her well constructed female anthem, G.N.O.  Here's a sample of the lyrics:

"Don't call me
Leave me alone
Not gonna answer my phone
Cause I don't
No I won't see you"

"Cause it's a girl's night
It's alright without you
I'm gonna stay out
And play out without you
You better hold tight
This girl's night is without you"

I like that Ms. Cyrus gets right to the heart of the issue. Girls coordinate their lives around guys who wouldn't even notice if they got both their nipples pierced. Girls go out with their friends to prove they don't need you. They get dressed up and Instagram themselves at bars so you dudes get your proverbial shit together and pay attention to them. Or they go out and black out so they can forget that you responded to their last text with "K sounds good". The only reason most girl's nights exist is male gender screwed up in some way.  Nonetheless, girl's night are often my favorite nights for just that reason.

Most girls are different when they aren't around guys. At parties with males around, girls are often trying to impress a some loser in the room, or they are stalking the guy they are obsessed with on Facebook for iPhone.

This is why I love the girl's night. I love when my crazy friends steal my phone for the evening (until I get so drunk I bite their hands while they're sleeping to get it back), so I'm not staring at it all night waiting for Chris Noth to somehow get my number and sext me. Hanging out with just girls is often hilarious. Whether it's getting inappropriately drunk in a suburban basement while wearing yoga pants , or going to a bar on a Wednesday with 20 girls you've never met before. Girls are funnier without guys around, and way more likely to tell stories about hooking up in a movie theater during "Step Up 2: The Streets" when playing Never Have I Ever. 

However, the G.N.O is not to be taken lightly. When you take all that estrogen, put it in a Forever 21 tube skirt, and pour tequila down its throat, you run the risk of creating a monster with running mascara. You can end up playing slap cup in basement for two hours until you begin debating the diversity of the American Girl dolls. Or you can end up performing Bruce Springsteen's "Born in the USA" karaoke in a crowded bar,  then watching your friend make out with an Irish dude , and inexplicably losing some of your entourage to the emergency room.

However, girls and guys aren't that different. When we are alone we talk about all the same things: sex, alcohol, and "The Dark Knight Rises".  We don't sit on the beach discussing wedding dresses or chihuahua outfits. Just like how you all are fascinated with how our boobs look in swimsuit tops, we're discussing your muscle definition and how weird your body looks playing beach volleyball (Ade).

Sadly, there really is no male equivalent to the girl's night out. Unfortunately, it's socially  unacceptable for men to go out in packs, dance in tight circles, and talk about how much they hate the opposite sex for 4 hours straight. It really is a shame, because whenever I'm feeling down the G.N.O really restores my faith in humanity. It's there to remind us that no matter what happens, you don't need men to have a good time, and it's possible to finish a bottle of Jose in under 10 minutes.  I will take the ability to have a girl's night out as a repayment for the fact women still make 80 cents to the male dollar.  We may be the victim of inequality, but at least we can get dressed up, drink pink drinks with weird names, and jump around in circle after we beg an innocent DJ to play Madonna. Preach Madame Cyrus-Hemsworth, preach.

Look at How Important I Am

Big news today nerds !  This blog has over 2000 views, proving yet again that there is no quality summertime television. If new episodes of "Revenge" were on right now, no one would read a thing I had to say (unless I wrote snarky recaps of the show "Revenge").

Also, you may notice the new giant picture of my round face at the top of this blog. That is there because I needed to prove to a few people I wasn't a 60-year-old closeted gay from Alaska.

Shout- out to Joy Kaminski of Finding Joy Photography for making me look attractive. Joliet tweens, go get your senior pictures taken by her. She can make a muffin top disappear .

Words from the Artist Barbie

This summer I am living with an artist Barbie. She is an art major at Northwestern who is really cool and hip. She has edgy tattoos, goes to crazy DJ/ dubstep concerts that give me anxiety attacks, shaves half her head, and pulls off those hipster mom jeans that are "in" now. Oh , and she looks like a Barbie (by comparison I am more of a Kelly, or whichever one is an obnoxious toddler who likes gymnastics).

 

Me and my roomie getting sexy on Halloween. Boys love my body in the pumpkin suit. 

You may wonder why we are best friends, because I would look like a burn victim with half my head shaved and I will proudly admit my favorite concert is a deadlocked tie between the Spice Girls and the Justin Timberlake FutureSex/LoveSounds tour. I will solve this mystery here and now. We are friends because we have a very similar sense of humor.

To prove this , here are a list of things she has said to me all in natural conversation. I will provide no hint as to what we were discussing.  If I've learned anything from Medill, it's that quotes are much more memorable when taken completely out of context.

"YOU are the homeless man of nail lacquer."

"I will rub my hippie diseases all over you, and there's nothing you can do."

"Sometimes I wonder, will anyone ever love me ever again in my life?"

"Be a slut and maybe people will like you,  probably not though."

"Stop. Don't question me. Don't look me in the eye. I just need a good skirt."

"But really is anyone that into a dick pic? Do guys think we like that?  Like who loves a solid dick pic?!"

"I just wanna get married so hard."

"I wonder if the city of Chicago ever gets tired of seeing me naked."

"But also, Maggie Gyllenhaal?? She looks like a pug."


"All men are douchebags forever. All we need to do is to invent a way to make two eggs into a baby, then we won't need them. And then everyone in the world would be so sensitive and kind , but then everyone would also be really bad at science and math."

"It's not about the fact that you want to watch Birdemic , it's that you need to see it to understand what Birdemic is."

"Sometimes I am out at events and it just gets boring talking to people. At that point I'm just like, 'We should probably make out now'. Sometimes I just do it just so their mouth stops talking to me."

"Ex -boyfriends. Just weird. Weird forever. Sometimes it's less weird, but then it's still weird."



I know you all are probably still trying to grasp at the depth and complexity of these quotes. Some of these are filled to the brim with Artist Barbie metaphors. Like when she talks about the city of Chicago seeing her naked, it's not about eating Nutella in a towel. No, its about the transparency of our generation's sexuality and our culture's need to end teen pregnancy.

Soak up the profound words of the Artist Barbie. Go get your eat, pray, love on. And by that I mean go to Portillo's and then hook up with a foreign dude.  Namaste.

" I curse the day you were born"

And other ridiculously good moments that make the Sex and the City movie worth watching alone past 1 a.m. Judge me if you will film hipsters, but SATC is one of my favorite movies of all time. I would call it a guilty pleasure, but I have no shame. I'm guessing the only people that strongly disagree with me are straight men or the aforementioned film student who only watches a movie if it has subtitles or a lesbian sex scene ( And if you are in one of these two categories, why are you following this blog anyway? It's pink with kittens all over it).

Anyway, Sex and the City is one of my favorite television shows/movies of all time for the the following reasons: the clothes, the writing, the acting so good you actually think Kim Catrall and SJP like each other, New York, and the fact that it's one thing almost anyone with a female reproductive system can relate to. Every girl has their favorite character, and will judged accordingly when they admit who it is . (If you say Samantha, everyone will think you have an STD).

Honestly, I wish I was a Carrie, because I want to be a fabulous writer who believes in love and lands Mr. Big,  But realistically, I am a Miranda. I am cynical, witty, mean to men, and smarter than your average bear. I'm sensible and I think all my friends are stupid for having feelings.Whatever, Mirandas of the world could take over the planet, while the Carries are too busy crying into flan because their boyfriend just got caller ID (90s girl problems).


But back to my main point, I've watched the Sex and the City movie an obscene amount of times this summer. Mainly because I'm lonely, and I watch a lot of E! in the middle of the day. And now, because I have nothing better to do because DIRECTV is currently in a dispute with Comedy Central and MTV, I'm going to list the best moments of the movie so bad it's good, Sex and the City: The Movie.

7. The Opening Credits
    This is it. It's starting. It gave me the same feeling yesterday when I watched it alone in my bed, as it did at the theater when I was a freshman in high school. I went with three of my best friends and my mom, because we were only 15 and it was rated R.  I had been watching Sex and the City since I was ten. Don't judge, I have a progressive mother who wanted a girlfriend to watch it with, and taught me it was okay because 40-year-old women can do whatever they want. ( She made me leave the room and cover my ears during the sex scenes. See, parenting did occur).

 The opening credits are great because they let you know your about to watch the characters you love run around NYC with their boobs out yet again. The credits are perfect because it's Fergie singing over the original theme, because it perfectly sums up the entire series in two minutes, and you see SJP for the first time. It's perfect because she's wearing a white cocktail dress with a giant hibiscus on it in the middle of the day, and no one questions it.

6. The New Year's Eve Montage
  This would've ranked way higher up on the list, if they hadn't included the ridiculous shots of Samantha and Smith wearing matching black, sequined robes (They look like strippers backstage before their first time on the pole). I love this because I love the song it's set to, I love seeing Big eat dinner alone, and I love what it's about. This scene is about the fact that the real friends are the people who know when you're more upset than you want to admit (because you're a Miranda and too proud), will get out of bed for you, and then run across Manhattan in a sparkly hat so you don't have to eat Chinese food alone.

5. The Closet- Cleaning -Champagne-Induced- Fashion Show
 By far one of the cheesiest parts of the movie, and by that I mean one of the best. This movie is, at its core, the definition of a chick film, and what woman does not drool over the try-on-a-bunch- of-crazy-outfits-while- catchy-tune-plays scene? I die over this scene because it is one of the times where I totally forget they are actors, and I think they are just bunch of best friends getting hammered in the middle of the day. It's just so fun, you can't hate it if you try. And don't lie , when she comes out in the original pink ballerina dress, you die a little bit inside (also, there's a naked baby).

4.  Samantha's Rally
 A lot of people hate on Samantha, they say she's too old, everything she says relates to penis, etc. But right after the infamous wedding meltdown, we are reminded of what Samantha is truly there for, the rally. Whether it's making them go eat raw food or go to nightclub where you sit in beds, Samantha has always been there to make the other biddies actually do cool things. Everyone has an exhausting friend like this, but this friend is also exceptionally good at coming to the rescue. The minute Carrie's life implodes, Samantha Jones is on the phone and getting shit done. She books them all on Carrie's honeymoon, convinces the boring moms to go, and then spoon feeds a comatose Carrie some oatmeal-ish material. Then she makes that pathetic rag doll get out of bed and drink margaritas. Let's face it, without Samantha ,Carrie would've drank herself to death, Charlotte would stare at her kids all day, and Miranda would eat pizza and drink beer alone in Brooklyn.

3. The Foam
 Only true Miranda fans really appreciate this scene. Because only true Miranda fans understand how hard it is to not do the logical thing. If your husband cheats on you, you end it. There's no gray area with Miranda, and love has nothing to do with it. Her friends see that she's being too harsh and still loves him, but they are scared of getting their head bitten off by the scary ginger lawyer. I'm going to get all film student on you now, and say that's hard to film someone accessing their emotions. It's hard to show why two people are perfect for each other , and why someone loves someone without the character saying " I love you because...". The espresso foam on the lip clearly shows why Miranda needs Steve. She needs him to make her lighten up, and to tell her she has goddamn foam on her lip. 

2. The One Way Street
 This one doesn't need much explaining. Big deciding he needs to turn around. SJP in a Vivienne Westwood bridal gown, going all Elin Nordegren on Big with a bouquet instead of a golf club. Not to mention Charlotte delivers the best movie "No!" I've ever heard. You can always count on protective, neurotic Charlotte to be a total spaz in the middle of a street.

1.  Brunch
 I could watch these bitches have brunch and make bad puns all day. I could watch these bitches have brunch until Carrie needs an oxygen tank and Samantha is in a wheelchair because of a latent sex injury. It is just so cheesily perfect that Carrie has a brunch reception, it makes me want to die a happy woman. After marrying Big the way she should have in the first place, he invites her friends, (because he was engineered in a lab to be the world's most perfect man) and they have a low-key reception at a breakfast place. And they're all together in the city , and everything is just as sexy as it was in the very first season. (Insert Carrie column-ending pun here)

Tasting the 815

As everyone in the world knows , this past weekend was the historic, red carpet event known as the Taste of Joliet.  I'm going to get the obvious joke out of the way, and allude to the fact that if someone physically tasted Joliet, it would taste like asphalt, gun powder, and fake weed. However, this festival of sin and obesity actually tastes delicious. The Taste combines everything bored suburbanites crave like meth (who am I kidding, it's Joliet, it's everything they crave besides meth). First off, there is a dirty carnival at one end, run by Illinois' finest toothless carnies. I swear to god, last year I went to go on a ride and the man operating it had the word "Carnie" tattooed on his neck. I'm not going to even begin to address all the burning questions I have about that.

The name of the Taste is a takeoff of The Taste of Chicago, where all the awesome Chicago restaurants offer sample sizes of their food in a big festival. Joliet- style, this idea turns into a grotesque amount of fair food being offered in disgusting proportions (Joliet cuisine of choice). Nothing quite like the Taste makes a footlong corndog plus a pork chop on a stick seem like an acceptable meal. Honestly, I'm pretty sure the go- to formula is just take any form of meat-ish material and throw it on a stick. I had a sausage on Sunday that was a combination of beef, pork, and lamb all in one. Now that your opinion of me has been reduced to a bored tween eating greasy peasant food,  you can understand why this is the event of my summer.

                                   ^ A daytime shot of the Taste, everything gets hotter (and meatier) when the sun goes down

I' m going to make the other obvious joke here and say that this is the one time a year where if it's fun it's NOT in downtown Joliet (My college friends have yet to grasp a single one of these stellar jokes). The Taste of Joliet is a time for everyone to come together, and for parents to get hammered. The music choices for this high class event always include some form of classic rock and country. Basically anything middle aged, overweight people can drunkenly sway to until they pass out on a pile of their old Bud Light Lime bottles.  I learned my excellent partying skills from my mom and her girlfriends every year at the Taste. Nothing emotionally scars a preteen like watching a group of 40- year- old women grind on each other , and then call you a "buzz- killing bitch" when you tell them it's time to leave. Actually, it might have been more scarring to watch my own mother try to lick Rick Springfield when he crowd surfed a few years back.

The beautiful part of this event is that, in classic suburban fashion, everywhere you turn there is someone you know and a new innocent face to embarrass yourself in front of. Whether its the small girl you used to babysit, your best friend's super religious parents, or your old high school dean, they're going to see you drinking a margarita out of a pouch and falling over on top of your equally sloppy friends. This , as hilarious as it is, is a recipe for Joliet disaster. I have witnessed infidelity, vomiting, and drunken fist fights, all from "adults" over 40. Or you could play it like me, (after an intense pre- game) and walk up to the beer tent with your guy friend and try to use your East Coast fake IDs with an elaborate back story about you both being Pennsylvania Josh Turner groupies, and then realize you handed them to your friend's grandma.

I guess the true beauty of the Taste of Joliet is that it brings the 815 together. Whether you're an awkward teen waiting to molest some random Disney Channel star they bring, one of Joliet's finest gang members, a new mom who finally got a babysitter and wants to get weird, a police man doing nothing to control anyone on a Segway,  a high schooler who didn't pre -game enough, or a college kid who pre-gamed like Burnett's was going out of style, you're going to be at the Taste and you're probably going to be eating meat on a stick.

Freaks of the Mag Mile

My family has had an apartment in downtown Chicago for my entire life, and I'm living up in Chicago all summer for work.  I would not consider myself touristy in any way shape or form. Therefore, I tend to avoid a certain Chicago tourist hellhole like it is the Bubonic plague. Not to mention in the summer, the only season where it is socially acceptable to vacation in Chicago. This land of awkward posed photos is known as Michigan Avenue aka the Magnificent Mile. I mean the shopping is great, but I consistently fail to see what is so magnificent about hoards of obese people taking pictures of their toenails in front of a Walgreens.

However, the gym I joined while living in the city is located on Michigan, and taking an other street is a ridiculous waste of my time. So needless to say, on my daily walk to the gym I am greeted to all the confused tourists/ homegrown freaks the Windy City has to offer. I got the great idea (when I was trying to avoid working out) to take pictures of some of these gems. Please note these pictures were all taken in a two day period, this is not a compilation of a month of weirdos. They're out there everyday people .



Little Betches with Dolls 
I could make another blog entirely out of this category, because Chicago is the undisputed home of the mini betch carrying a $150 American Girl Doll everywhere she goes. Restaurants, the bathroom, the beach, they must be carried along like creepy, plastic babies. I'm pretty confident Europeans come to Chicago and think this is a crazy, Stepford Wives, city where we believe dolls are alive and need constant attention.

This girl sat clutching her plastic best friend in front of Water Tower for like 30 minutes, no parents in sight and looking serious as hell. I don't know if there was a Mulan/ "Reflection" like musical number happening inside her head, or if she was contemplating drowning herself Hamlet- style because her mom refused to buy her the Victorian era doll accessories.

I don't know what I like more about this, the casual naked doll or the mom's jumpsuit. I also like that this isn't an American Girl. I hope this girl never conforms to the mainstream, I hope she grows up to wear jumpsuits and continues to stick it to the proverbial man.

Old Dudes Relaxing in Front of Ralph Lauren
Ralph Lauren is arguably on one of the busiest street corners on Michigan, or as men over 50 see it, a casual place to just do them.

Perfect time to read a magazine in a back brace on a small fence. So serene.

Leaning on Ralph Lauren, drinking a strawberry milkshake, haters gonna hate.



Overly Creative Vagrants 
Michigan Avenue is the home to the best pan handlers the city has to offer. I don't know if it's the stiff competition or they just like to step it up, but these hobos really put their heart into it.

This guy. His sign said that he needed money for breast implants. I still can't decide if this guy is really homeless or just like a witty, dirty hipster.

This guy stopped begging to answer what I'm going to assume is a business call. He is also wearing a kilt. Maybe he is an impotent Scottish doctor like Trey MacDougal on Sex in the City.



Touristy Tourists 

Snapped this as his wife was trying to figure out how to operate a camera (top right, big button, it's been like that since the 50s). This is definitely cover photo material bro.

Tourists holding up Michigan Avenue traffic to ask a cab driver where Michigan Avenue is.

Tourists love this guy. He's by Water Tower like everyday and a line literally forms to snap photos with him. What the what? Chicago isn't even the home of Hershey's , or have the biggest store? And he looks like a robot teardrop.

C'mon Guys
Chicagoans who look stupid. 

I walked behind this guy for like six blocks. He never once set down this dog. His mustache continued to look just as awesome throughout the experience.

Cops who roam around Water Tower. Everyone can rest easy knowing we are safe from the expected cavalry attack by the Redcoats.

They only two people I saw leave Tiffany's all day. I have no idea where they are headed at 3:30 pm, but apparently it is black tie.

Emma Explores Holy Matrimony

This weekend I went to a wedding. I know this shocking to some of you, because I am so anti- marriage. Sorry I'm not sorry for opposing the last form of legal slavery. And by that bold statement, I actually mean that no one in their right mind would willingly sign up to hang out out with me forever. It would involve 50 plus years of drinking, watching Keeping Up With the Kardashians, and sometimes a lovely combination of the two. The only circumstance where I see marriage really happening for me is if I am paid large sums of money to act as some fabulously rich closeted gay man's wife/ beard, which I am totally down with. (Seriously call me if you want my services, we can buy a yacht and eat expensive salads together until we both die in a horrific Pilates accident)

So the wedding I went to was my grandparents' neighbor's daughter. She babysat me a couple times  when I was like 5, and sometimes I went jet skiing with her younger brothers who are like 25 now.  So clearly, I already have a strong emotional connection to this new couple's love and happiness. However, I do have a strong and beautiful connection to the idea of an open bar. If you are going to be all annoyingly in love and make me write about finding "the one" in a Hallmark card, I'm going to walk around carrying three drinks and my shoes off all night.  The people that threw the wedding were super wealthy, so clearly I was prepared for free things. There was giant white, air-conditioned tents set up looking at the lake, a make you're own ice cream sundae bar, gorgeous lanterns and decorations, a live band plus a DJ, and three separate bars. Game on wedding, game on.

After 3 pre-dinner cocktails,  I have to sit down and listen to speeches about how in love these two people are and I have to watch them dance in, all cute and happy and junk. This reminds me that I am about as single and pathetic as Jennifer Aniston right now, and then I remember that even she has some random dude who is like banker or something. I decide champagne is a good idea. At dinner, I have to listen to a 30 minute long speech from my Grandma Cyndi (who is roughly 2 bottles of Veuve Clicquot deep at this point) about how I need to find a man from the Chicagoland area and marry him immediately. When I let her in on the fact that I want to get a job and be a human, she laughs in my face and tells me to stop biting my nails. She ends the conversation by telling me if I have kids and move to California like her friend Sarah's daughter, "she won't love those ridiculous children" . She then told me "some Sicilian bitch" two tables over wasn't being friendly enough to her, so she needed to get more champagne. I decide I need two more cosmos.

I cruised the wedding with my cool Aunt Heidi, just straight crushing it and judging the bride's weird high school friends who showed up dressed like hookers. I then ran into the bride's brothers, my jet skiing buddies from back the day. They are both so hammered they can barely stand, and had just finished humping the dance floor during the band's rendition of the Lionel Ritchie classic "All Night Long."  One of the drunk brothers decided he was magically Michael Fassbender and started hitting on me in front of my uncle (I respect his enthusiasm). A highlight was when smoothly dropped the line that his family got my high school graduation announcement, and he jacked off to my senior pictures for a month. I finally know what it's like to feel like the prettiest girl at the dance. This is clearly the Prince Charming I've been waiting for.

                                                     ^ Me and my broha getting diggity down

After this encounter , I head back to the bar where I have developed a cute little friendship with my favorite bartender. He kept making me fun new concoctions, which seemed like creative combinations of Grey Goose and roofie. After taking tequila shots with the parents of the groom, I hit the dance floor.  I found a five year old child who was literally killing it all night. She was getting low to every song, all while rocking cranberry juice in hand. I tried to steal her at the end of the evening because I'm convinced she's my daughter. At this point, I was grabbing random drinks off tables and ballroom dancing with my uncle.

                                      ^ Me and my partner in crime, her favorite moves included the high kick, the ass slap, and the sexy hair whip.

I head to the bathrooms and resist to urge the vomit, it's still undecided whether it was from alcohol or all the stupid love stuff being thrown in my face. I head back out to the floor, and I see the bride and groom acting all adorable. Drunk Emma decides she's above all this nonsense, visibly rolls her eyes at them, and heads to the ice cream bar to pour Bailey's all over her sundae.

Long story short, I ended the night dancing to Luke Bryant,  barefoot with all the bridesmaids and the toddler who loved to party. My uncle eventually threw me over his shoulder and into the car.

                                    ^ How I ended the magical evening of love and happiness


The moral of the story is don't invite me to important, high class events and also offer open bar. Also, don't offer open bar and then surround me with a love so sickening I want to drink myself to death. Also, don't close the open bar before I leave, because I will get mad and grab a bottle of Grey Goose off the bar to drink/ use as a microphone when Katy Perry comes on.