soccer players on a plane

I feel like it's been a little too long since you've read an Emmie Story. These are stories that are random, and involve my hilariously weird life. I remembered a really good one today. So fasten your seatbelts everyone, and off we go.

I went to Florida a little before Christmas. We had to wake up early to catch our flight, so I obviously wasn't wearing makeup, had brushed my hair, or was wearing decent clothes. I was decked out in my Nike sneakers, sweatshirt and stained neon pink sweats. I had curled my hair the previous day, but hadn't bothered to brush it so it was sticking out at all angles. I had my pillow pet under my arm, along with my carry on bag full of books. Just painting the picture for future reference.

So here I am, waiting for the flight to start boarding, listening to my ipod and staring at everyone around me. I was checking Instagram, when all of a sudden, my built-in hot guy radar spiked. I whipped my head up and looked around me. And then, I saw it, the holy grail for a teenage girl.

To my left was a giant group of soccer players. Ages probably sixteen to eighteen. And every single one of them was attractive. I just sat there, my jaw hitting the floor, openly staring and beholding their good looks. Then, one of them felt my unrelenting stare, and turned to look at me. This snapped me out of my daze and into reality. And reality was where I was holding a unicorn pillow pet.

I shoved my face back into my phone, half hoping that they hadn't seen me. The other half hoping that they had seen me, but despite my appearance of a hobo, they had already fallen in love with me.

It's possible, okay?

I was sitting there trying to figure out how I could get them to notice me (in a good way) when the stewardess announced that anyone gate-checking anything needed to proceed to the gate. So I had to stand up, and walk past these greek gods all lined up, waiting to get on the plane. Some of them stared at me, others ignored me. I clutched my unicorn and my backpack tightly and held my head up high while passing them.

After that event was over, my brother and I made it to our seats to find that we were sitting next to a strange man. He had already claimed the window seat. He was probably in his twenties. He looked at us like you would look at the weird kid that dressed up as Gandalf for career day. My brother and I looked at each other for a split second, and then fought over the aisle seat. He won. I huffed and promptly plopped down in the middle, uncomfortably between this judging man and my brother. Then, the soccer players entered the plane.

I leaned over to my brother, and started begging him to let me sit in the aisle. Just for a few minutes. I wanted those ridiculously attractive boys to notice me. He refused and first, and the agreed when I said he could borrow my skull candy headphones.

I switched seats with him quickly and stared at the soccer players. Then, I remembered. I'm awkward. This could be interesting.

I stuck my head down when they first started passing me. Then, they couldn't move because there were too many people boarding. So a black haired beauty was standing next to me. My brother nudged me with his arm, sending the message to make my move. I shook my head, awkwardness setting in. He finally got frustrated and started talking for me. This is how the conversation went:

Brother: "What sport do you guys play?"

Hot kid: (with a the Forza logo on his shirt) "Soccer."

B: "What's your team name?"

HK: "The Sharks."

B: "Cool."

awkward silence.

HK: (looking at me) "Well, bye."

Me: ugghhhhhh.

For the rest of the flight I took stalker pictures of them and sent them to my friends, but I never got the nerve to talk to one.

I'm such an awkward being.


and in the spirit of hot guys... here you go:

talented (part 2)

Remember a while ago when my mom told me I had to get off my butt and take some lessons, or do something? (you can read about it here) Well guess what? She actually enforced it.

It took place at, yet again, another doctor's appointment (they still don't know what's wrong with me. I'll do a medical update later). I was getting my blood drawn (again) by a nurse who didn't seem to be familiar with the common needle. She was digging around in my arm, looking for a vein. I was staring at the wall trying not to pass out. I made my mom talk to me while the nurse kept digging. I finally started to slide down, and my face turned whiter than normal. I don't even remember what I was trying to talk about, but my body began to relax and I could feel myself slipping into unconsciousness. I remember mentioning that I was hungry, and my mom (who was trying not to pass out herself) told me that we could go to Noodles & Company. I then tried to fight my way back to consciousness, with the promise of buttered noodles.

Soon after that hairy ordeal was over, we were driving and I realized we were going the wrong way. I told my mom this, and she looked sheepish. She told me that she only said we could go get my beloved noodles because I was practically on the floor. I was furious. I begged and pleaded with her. A look came across her face, and I knew she was going to say something that I didn't want to hear.

"Okay. I'll take you. IF you try out for the Wizard of Oz)

(Backstory: from ages 6-13 I was in musicals. I gave them up after a while. I don't remember why. Also: my brothers were trying out for the Wizard of Oz in Farmington, and my mom had been trying to get me to do it too. I had refused. Until now)

My confused, starving brain didn't really register what I was getting myself into. I hastily agreed, and we were on our way to noodle-y bliss.

A few days later, my mom reminded me of the auditions. Her reminder was ignored. I chose my song on the way there, and didn't even take a second look at the lines provided.

My audition was bumpy. My voice cracked and I forgot the words, and I couldn't dance like they asked me to. I expected an Munchkin. But, later that night I got a call from a number I had never seen before. Picking up my phone, I answered it to get the news that they wanted me to come to callbacks, for the part of the Scarecrow.

I learned the song and the lines and went. I waited a long time, got hit in the face and my voice cracked in those auditions too.

So then I'm on the computer, and I discover the cast list. Checked the Scarecrow part. Not me. I was okay with that. So I looked at this dancer group that the director promised that I'd be in. I wasn't there either.

I started to panic a little. Was I so bad that I wasn't even in the cast? I scoured the list for my name a few times, when I finally spotted it. Relieved, I moved my eyes from my name to the part I'd been assigned.

Are you ready for this? I don't even think you're ready. Just, be ready. I got cast as....

The Yellow Brick Road.

"What the eff?!" I said loudly to the computer. "How the crap can I be road?!" The computer just sat there, probably offended that I was yelling at it. It wasn't the computers fault I was cast as an inatamite object. It probably felt bad for me.

But I just sat there and laughed. Out of all the parts, I was a road. I don't know what I'll have to do. Maybe lay on the ground, dressed in yellow while people step on me? Who knows?

My life is so weird.

I'll keep you updated on my road-status.

The Princess and the Pee

It's been no secret that my body is turning against me lately. I woke up with a knife in my side on Thursday, and my mom promptly ran me to that awful Instacare place where you wait five hours to get your temperature taken.

But everyone thought I had Appendicitis, so I was rushed into the back. They took my blood and made me pee in a cup. When they couldn't find anything wrong with me, the doctor (who was almost deaf) told me I needed to get an ultrasound. The conversation went like this:

Doctor: Well... we can't see what's wrong yet. We haven't ruled out anything, but I'm almost positive it isn't Appendicitis. But we want an ultrasound just to be sure.

Mom: She has to get an ultrasound? Why?

D: Nothing's wrong with her.

M: Then why does she have to get an ultrasound?

D: (stares at her for a minute) A what? She wants a what?

M: Why are you having her get an ultrasound?!

D: I already said that.

M: I know you said it, but WHY?!

D: To see if she has Appendicitis!


So after being poked and prodded for a few hours, I went home and waited for my ultrasound. The thing that those new mothers don't tell you is that you have to have a full bladder before you get one, so they can see everything. And if you know me, I swallow my spit and I have to pee two seconds later. So I downed 32 ounces of water. Then I accidentally peed it out. So I downed another 32 ounces right before we went back to the doctor.

We went up the the fancy ultrasound clinic thing, and I seriously felt I was pregnant. It was beyond embarrassing. Especially since there was this really cute boy walking past, and my mom said as loud as possible, "We're here for my daughter's ULTRASOUND." And he gave me a judgmental look and tailed behind his mom. Running away from the teen mom.

So we get in the ultrasound room, and I lay down in this very cold table, my bladder bursting. The nurse put this goo on my stomach that was first cold, and then you feel a fire-y sensation. She told me to lift up my shirt, and I complied. Then she shoved this little ultrasound camera thing down my pants unexpectedly, and I jumped up with surprise. She told me to relax, so I just was laying there, and the the camera thing was tickling me and I had to pee SO BAD. And then she told me my bladder wasn't full enough, and made me drink the disgusting tap water. After that I was completely dying. When she finally got down to her ultrasound business, she pushed down really hard on my stomach and I screeched. It hurt and I had to go really really really bad. She gives me a glare and keeps going. By the end of it I'm sweating like crazy. When she said she was done I booked it to the bathroom, cutting in front of this guy who had to take a urine test. I'm sorry dude, but pretending to be pregnant is hard enough without having to wait for the bathroom.

that's basically my face went the nurse pushed on my stomach. 

twenty thirteen

I can't believe the year is gone. This year was filled with wonderful memories, experiences, and lessons. Full of great triumphs and messy mistakes. Filled with laughter, tears and hard work. I think 2012 has been one of the toughest years for me. But it was also one of the most rewarding.

Highlights?

graduating from Jr. High.

getting my braces off and finally feeling beautiful in my own skin.

summer. every second of it.

starting high school.

accepting some of my flaws and working on them.

making mistakes, and learning some big lessons for them.

learning that letting people out of my life is a good thing, and a necessary thing sometimes.

knowing the qualities of a true friend.

becoming an all-around better person.

I'm expecting 2013 to be hard, but I'm also expecting it to be just as rewarding as 2012 was to me. I usually share my resolutions on here, but most of them are kind of personal. So I'll share one or two.

1. finish my scriptures.

2. spend more time outside.

3. get a 4.0

let's talk boys.

So, I've gotten a couple or requests to write an entry about boys. (mostly from 12 year old girls. ok. all of the requests were from 12 year old girls) So, here you go. An awkward boy post, featuring me struggling over every word. Because I am a little confused in the boy department. Alright. A lot confused. So please enjoy this humorous struggle to answer the questions of a few little girls. Fasten your seatbelts.

In my fifteen years of life, the only thing I know for sure about males is that they like to injure each other. And sometimes me. I have indeed gotten tackled and punched in the gut. And hit square in the face with a snowball. And hit on the arm. And in the face again with a tether ball. And a couple soccer balls. I think guys forget that I'm not as tough as I make myself sound, and my body is actually fragile. Hence, I get injured. I have a couple of the scars to prove it. 

Anyway.

I've liked exactly five boys in my lifetime. Five boys in fifteen years. Most girls have liked over 30. Okay, 20. Let's just say 25 to meet in the middle. Point is, while all other teenage girls on the planet know how to navigate through the dangerous waters of flirting and relationships, I'm that one kid that still has to use an inner tube when they're in sixth grade. While we're picturing that, just imagine me wearing one of those full body swimsuits with a duck floaty around my stomach. You're welcome for that image.

So I'm not really qualified to post about this. I haven't kissed anyone. Never had a boyfriend. So I'm not really writing this for advice reasons. I'm just writing it to entertain myself, because I'm kind of hilarious.

Okay sorry. I'll try to focus.

So, when my cute friend asked me to write this, I was specifically asked how to tell a boy you "like" him.

Well. I'm not the kind of person to play those tricky mind games that some girls have mastered. I just kinda went up to them and told them I liked them. Put it right there on the table. Most of the time, they just kinda awkwardly skirted away from the subject and didn't talk to me for a couple months after I told them. Don't worry, I'm kind of a cocky person. So I would just shake it off and think "Your loss baby!" (courtesy from the Little Rascals). Because I'm kind of a winner. I can beat any level of Unblock Me, eat a whole box of Bagel Bites in one sitting, I burst into random showtunes, read until the early hours of the morning and I'm addicted to the Internet.

A real catch, I am.

(I also talk like Yoda sometimes)

To end this fun little rambling monologue, I'll post a video from one of my favorite Youtubers, Marissa Lace. She is pretty hilarious and cracks me up. Here you go.

 

the true meaning.

Because I'm a teenage girl that loves Toy Story and kittens, it's obvious that I love Christmas. I love the weather, the lights, decorations, music and presents.

But this year is a little different for me.

Because Florida was our big Christmas present, I haven't been focusing on the gifts. I haven't gone to Temple Square to gawk at those amazing lights. I haven't been laboring over what to get for my friends. And I haven't been parading around in a Santa Hat. Those aren't the true meaning of Christmas.

So what would be the the meaning of the holiday? There are many answers.

The true meaning of Christmas is laughing your head off when you're playing a game with your family.

When that little old man in your ward comes up and gives you a kiss on the cheek and wishes you a Merry Christmas. 

When you hold a door open for five minutes straight at Target for a giant crowd, just to be nice.

When you're babysitting a cute family, and the little girl wants to play with the Nativity and tells you about Jesus, and how much she loves Him.

It's a day of laughing at ugly Christmas sweaters with your best friends.

It's when you tear up when your little brother sings at Church because you're so grateful for him.

It's when your cousin calls you Mi-mi instead of Emmie.

When you're reading your scriptures and you feel the Spirit.

It's those cheesy Christmas movies they show you in Seminary.

When your best friend gets up in front of the entire Seminary class to bear her testimony, and you can't believe how good of a person she is.

It's when your friend remembers an old movie you two used to watch together when you were little, and they give you the movie on DVD instead of the old VHS.

It's the family you're with, the memories you make and the love you share.

So Merry Christmas my dear followers. I love you all.

take advice from our dear friend, Mr. Grinch.

hello.

hello there, old friends. It's been a little while. And I have found a free moment where I don't want to just flop on my bed and listen to my Spotify playlists over and over. 

(Music update, I've re-discovered my love for Passion Pit lately. Sleepyhead, Take a Walk and Moth's Wings are some of my favorites. I've also been getting into Modest Mouse. Float on is my favorite. And lastly, the Xx. You either love or hate their music, but I'm all for it. Favorites are Fiction and VCR. Go check them out. now.)

Sorry, you got me talking about music. But anyway, I found a moment of free time so I decided to give you a  small update on my life.

I've been crazy busy with everything. School has caught up to me, and I am swamped with makeup homework. And with the end of term coming up, I've been a little pressured with everything. It's nothing like middle school though. This kind of stress I can handle. 

I've also been really busy with my wonderful friends. I'm not going to lie, I have a lot of them. I'm a pretty pleasant person, and I like people. That being said, I have a lot of different groups of friends. And sometimes it feels like I'm being pulled in a thousand different directions by different people. It's not bad, and I love having so many people to relate to. It just overwhelms me. 

It's kind of funny, but now that I'm happy with my friends and don't feel like I have to impress them all the time, I've turned into the laziest teenage girl ever. I don't care about my appearance as much anymore. You can find me at school any day of the week with my hair in a sock bun, wearing my mom's old sweatshirts and leggings (not her leggings. mine. for clarification) I wear less makeup, and I allow myself to sleep in a little longer than those girls that get up at 4 am to put on their faces. Chap stick and mascara are my buddies. 

 

Overall, I am completely loving my life. I'm content and happy with myself, with my friends and I am working my butt off in school. I need to keep 'dem grades up. 

Like anyone else in the world, I have my challenges. I'm a little disappointed that I can't get a ski pass this year. I usually get one for Christmas, but our christmas present was Florida. I'm a little sleep deprived. I not eating as healthy as I should, and sometimes walking up the stairs to the fifth floor leaves me winded. Trust me, I have my issues. 

That's basically it, except I have one hilarious story to tell (because what Emmie blog post doesn't contain a funny story?). Names shall not be mentioned to protect the idiot.

So, to give you a little background, there's this person in a couple of my classes. They sit by me because our last names are similar. And they cheat off of my tests like a little snot. I admit, I do really well on tests. I study my butt off and I try my hardest. And when some little pill face tries to take credit for my work, I got really upset.

I told the teachers (as this happened in multiple classes) but of course they did nothing. So I tried my best to avoid the situation. I would practically lay on top of my paper so they couldn't copy, I would call them out on it. Nothing was working.

One day we're sitting in a class (not disclosed to protect the idiot), taking a test. This was a test that I was very nervous for. I had to teach myself the entire unit because I was in Florida, and I had been spending days reviewing. So when the creep next to me leans over to try to get some answers, I freaked out a little bit. 

And then I realized, the teacher had handed out two different types of the test. 

We had different tests. 

I almost died, I was laughing so hard. I had been covering my test with my paper, and putting it on the opposite side of this retard. After realizing that we had different tests, I had an idea.

I gladly put my test on the side of my desk the creep was on, and let them cheat like a crazy person. I giggled to myself the whole class, feeling so proud of my cleverness. And when I handed in my test, my teacher laughed with me. 

Well, the next class, we got our test back. My score? 90 percent. I could've done better, but I was pretty proud of it, considering I taught myself everything.

Guess the Einstein next to me score was?

53 percent.

Emmie-1. Idiot-0.

Thank you, and good night.