the big bad story of how emily was hospitalized for like, a bunch of disjointed days.

hold onto your pants, this is about to be the longest blog post EVER.

why? because it just keeps going, that's why.

i have also decided that it will have a cartoon picture of captain america for no reason somewhere in the middle. just because i can do that.

so. first order of business.

emily, our intrepid blogger, is blogging from the hospital.

why, you ask?

well. because i'm hospitalized. and that's what this post is about. me being in the hospital like a boss.

so, without further ado, this is my adventure in gratiot county medical where the food is worse than alma's cafeteria and people poke me with needles at odd hours of the morning.

THE BIG BAD STORY ABOUT HOW EMILY WAS HOSPITALIZED FOR LIKE, A WHOLE BUNCH OF DISJOINTED DAYS.

saturday evening jacob (the boyfriend not the best friend) and i were taking a nap on his bed in the basement. and i was like, dude, jacob, it's cold, get me a blanket please, and he's like, oh sure, i'm a great devoted boyfriend, here's a blanket, and i shivered.

and then i didn't stop shivering.

jacob: are you okay?
me: um. i'm still shivering.
jacob: are you cold?
me: no. i'm actually really sweaty.
jacob: maybe you're having a seizure?
me: LOLOLOLOL.

jacob gets on the internet. i'm flopping around on his bed. jacob goes to get bill across the hall. bill sees me flopping around. i say hello and continue to flop like a fish.

jacob: we need to go to the hospital.
me: no. i'm fine.
jacob: YOU'RE HAVING A FUGGIN' SEIZURE.
me: ugh. no ambulance.

jacob, being six four and in shape, is like, man, i can totally carry my helpless seizing girlfriend to bill's car and we can drive her to the emergency room and it will be glorious! but as soon as he tries to pick me up, i'm like, UH, NO, I'M ABOUT TO PASS OUT, YOU PUT ME THE HELL BACK ON YOUR BED RIGHT NOW so now jacob is like, well gee, i'm calling an ambulance, and i'm still flopping around and i'm like, seriously, this is going to make such a scene.

twenty minutes later, there are paramedics and they're like, hi emily, and i'm like, yo, what's up, i think i'm having a seizure, what's your name? and they're like, OMG WHY ARE YOU TALKING WHY AREN'T YOU PASSED OUT and i'm like, dude, question of the hour, can i stop shaking now please?

so then they strap me into this wheelchair and it goes up the basement steps. kind of like carl's little chair in up. then i was in an ambulance and my first thought was, ambulances look so much cooler in TV shows. this is totally boring. man. i'm still flopping around. this is dumb.

a bunch of ER doctors pull the whole "oh wow she's conscious and making jokes with the paramedics, that's really weird" and i'm over here like, "you know, this oxygen stuff you shoved up my nose? my nose ring isn't digging it." and jacob is on the phone with my parents and then this nice guy gave me this huge dose of benadryl.

fact. i cannot spell benadryl. i am far too lazy to look it up, too. so it's going to be spelled benadryl for the rest of this blog post.

that stuff conks me out. i wake up for a little bit and i'm in a CT scan to check my brain and i'm like, oooooh. pretty. then jacob is like, it's two in the morning and we're taking you home! and then he lifted me into my bunk bed and he spent the night in my room like a good boyfriend and i slept and i slept and i slept.

i spent most of sunday curled up in bed watching british television. i finally got around to showering and i put on my fancy gamma phi beta clothes for my business meeting and jacob and i went to dinner, and everybody was like, emily are you okay, i heard you were in the ER last night, and i'm like, i am sooo sick of telling people what happened last night.

then jacob and i went to his room, i laid down on his bed for a minute, and then the next thing i know, i'm flopping around again.

welcome to my life.

jacob wastes no time. he calls willard, my fantastic boss, and before we even debate about calling an ambulance, they've shoved me into the back of willard's car and we're off to the ER again. having a weird seizure in the back of someone's car is not as cool as it sounds. and when we pull up the ER entrance, this doctor is like, "why is she doing that?" and willard is like, "uh, we don't know, that's why we brought her here, dumbass."

ER doctor: you're back.
me: yeup.
ER doctor: why do you keep coming back.
me: that's a great question.

me: i'm missing my gamma phi beta meeting.
jacob: i think you have other, more pressing matters to deal with right now.
me: my abs hurt from convulsing like this.
jacob: well, at least you'll have a six pack when this is all over.

they give me drugs. when i wake up, my parents are magically there, like they apparated from indiana, and i'm like, yaaaay parents! and then the ER doctor is like, we're going to admit you to the hospital and i'm like, hold up, i have three classes tomorrow and stuff to do. and he's like, too bad, we gotta figure out why you're convulsing.

see, it's not a seizure if i'm talking and cracking jokes with the doctors. it's a convulsion.

at two in the morning they set me up in a pretty swanky private hospital room and my parents spend the night in my dorm room. they come back around eight in the morning and spend most of the morning sleeping on a couch by the window and i spend most of the morning sleeping in my hospital bed. then this indian doctor is like, i know a lot about brains, we're going to see why you're having convulsions!

so they wheel me downstairs to have an EEG. which means they stick little wires all over my head and see what my brain does. but they can't just stick the wires to my head, no, they have to rub this stuff that honest to god looks like toothpaste all over my hair and my forehead before they can do anything. while this nice lady is rubbing weird toothpaste on me, she's telling me that she knows a bunch of people that i know because she's one of the hall director's sisters, and i'm like, dude, no way, small world, and then i remember that we're in alma and everything is small in alma. except walmart.

once that's over with, jacob comes over and we spend most of the afternoon sitting around. jacob does his homework and i take advantage of the super sweet and fantastic wireless and i watch sherlock. i was NOT prepared for those feels.

british TV for the win!

oh. MORIARITY IS REAL. I BELIEVE IN SHERLOCK.

live tweeting: "why did i EVER think that watching the reichenbach fall alone in my hospital room was a good idea?!"

so my parents were like, well you look and feel fine and we're out of clothes and have jobs, so we're going back to indiana and we'll call you a bunch and i was like, sweet, that sounds great.

because here's the thing. i'm sitting in this hospital room and i feel like ballroom dancing. because i feel fantastic. and everybody on facebook is like, "emily! get better soon! feel better soon!" and i'm sitting here like, "dude. i feel awesome."

my entire RA staff came to see me after visiting hours, and that was quite the scandal. they brought the bitch slapper, which is a giant canoe paddle that's been decorated with everything from a pair of sunglasses to what looks like a crucified toy cat. apparently they got lost in limbo with an elevator, scared a few nurses, and couldn't find my room. but they brought me ice cream and we had a great staff meeting where we laughed and were awesome.

on tuesday the neurologist was like, your brain scan was clean, go home! and i was like, YISSSSSS and so i got back to my dorm room, i took a shower, and i took a nap.

then i woke up and starting having another seizure thing.

jacob: seriously.
me: seriously.
jacob: i'm calling 911 again.
me: whatever. i am so done with this.

twenty minutes later.

ER doctor: DAMNIT. WHY DO I KEEP SEEING YOU.
me: you better fix me because i think my dad is about to flip his shit.

but this third ER visit on tuesday evening was quite fantastic. they drugged me and got the convulsions to stop, but instead of passing out, i perked up. so jacob and i ordered a pizza. and it came straight to the ER. like, the pizza guy wandered into the ER looking for me and i was like, THAT'S MY PIZZA, BABY.

they admitted me again, got me a room on the fourth floor (where i have a great view of taco bell), and jacob and my brother hung out for a while. after they left i stayed up and did internet things. because i'm social media enthusiast and i was back in the hospital for an undetermined amount of time. what better time than to be on tumblr?

here's how tuesday night went.

1 am. i went to sleep.
2 am. a nurse came in and checked my vitals. i was half awake.
4:45 am. i woke up and couldn't fall back asleep.
5 am. got on the internet.
5:30 am. started trolling people on facebook.
6 am. fell back asleep.
6:30 am. some lady came into my room and took like, five vials of my blood from my left arm and didn't even bother to smile at me.
7:30 am. my neurologist came in and talked to me. i was way too tired to comprehend anything that he was saying.
8:30 am. a small asian lady came into my room and randomly started to clean it. um.
9:30 am. my nurse came and told me that i was going to have a brain MRI and she'd send up a team to take out my nose ring because i didn't know how.

taking our your nose ring hurts when it's not fully healed, kids.

the brain MRI was fun. a nice guy named sam wheeled me downstairs and a nice guy named mark did the MRI. i fell asleep. when i got back, i buzzed for the nice nurse to put my nose ring back in. she got it back in just fine, but then she dropped the tiny ball that holds it together.

three nurses were on their hands and knees for about fifteen minutes scouring my hospital floor. i can't say that it wasn't awesome, because it was.

around one, barbara and mariah brought me lunch, which was exciting, because the hospital food is the same as the cafeteria food at alma, WHICH I WILL NEVER ESCAPE, GAH. they brought me a teddy bear and we sat around and talked about allll kinds of stuff until mariah had to leave for swim practice.

then i skyped with emma! that was exciting. after we were done skyping, jacob came over and then we sat around and did homework like boring people, because at this rate, i had been out of class for three days, and with a nineteen credit load, that's not good. after jacob left i ate chocolate cake.

this is a really big deal. last week i ate half of a chocolate cake with my hands. willard has it on video somewhere.

after dinner another doctor came and told me that my brain is normal, which is great. i don't have any tumors or weird brain bleeding places and my brain ventricles are fine, and i'm thinking, brains have ventricles? true story. he told me that it's probably a weird side effect from my zoloft. as if my terrible adjustment period wasn't bad enough. then he told me that he did zumba with his wife and i gave him mad respect.

THEN MY BROTHER WENT TO WALMART AND BOUGHT ME THE AVENGERS AND IT WAS PRETTY MUCH THE GREATEST THING IN EXISTENCE AND I WAS SO HAPPY I ALMOST PEED MY HOSPITAL GOWN.

i then skyped with hannah, emma's twin counterpart, and that was delightful. then willard, bobby and talon came to visit me, and we sat around and joked about how i felt fine but was stuck here, how katie brought me a care package with teddy grahams and a bow for my hair in a cool harry potter bag, and willard's terrible back surgery experience that involved a lot of peeing. they brought me back the bitch slapper since i had left it in willard's car when i thought i was going back to campus but hey, just kidding, i was back in the ER three hours later.

after they left i took a really nice hot shower and i sang like i was about to win american idol. then, once i got out of the shower, i was like, mmmm i feel funny. better buzz my nurse.

then it was like, ATTACK OF THE CONVULSIONS and i was like, seriously. what is this crap. i JUST showered and now i'm all sweaty again. and i was about to watch the avengers and now i'm all drugged, ugh.

IV drugs, children, make you sleep like a baby. i got the best sleep ever last night.

my neurologist came this morning and he was like, soooo you had another convulsion last night, and i was like, yessir i did, and he says, well we think that you can go home today. and i was like, GREAT!

until i get to go home, i will do my homework. and then... i will unwrap the avengers and i will watch it and live tweet it. 

i honestly can't wait until like... three months from now. and i'll go to my twitter profile and be like, "lololol, remember those like, five days that i was in the hospital and i tweeted about every five seconds about the food and my bathroom sink making noise and people visiting me and bringing me shit? yeahhhhh."

i'm really hoping i get to go back to campus today. that would be pretty sweet. assuming i'm not back in the ER with jacob  five hours from now and the doctor like, SERIOUSLY, EMILY. STOP IT.

until then, here's my cartoon captain america for no apparent reason.

FOR 'MRRCA.

my last week in the city that invented television.

this is becoming a habit.

i was going through my tumblr and there was a link that said OH HEY I BLOGGED so i click on it, and it leads me to a blog post that i wrote on this day a year ago.

it was about how i was moving back to alma the next day for RA training and i hadn't packed yet.

i go to alma tomorrow. i'm sitting here blogging.

have i packed yet?

nooooooo.

this week has been especially irksome for me. and now i want to tell you about it. if i can even remember what i did this week. i was trying to tell jacob about it last night when he got back from camping in the wilderness alone for four days (my boyfriend is a guitar playing poem writing viking) and i couldn't remember for the life of me what i did on wednesday.

and then i was like, OH WAIT, I WATCHED THE DARK KNIGHT WITH HANNAH AND WE SQUEALED OVER HEATH LEDGER.

right.

but anyway, this week has been stupid. just stupid. so i just didn't pack.

monday i still felt relatively poopy from my zoloft. so i watched pocahontas, thought about how christian bale can't POSSIBLY voice thomas even though IMDB never lies, and then i was like, man, pocahontas is a really depressing movie and this is the only time where i don't want to see the union flag because governor ratliffe and britain are just kind of being big ugly douchebags, and ratliffe and cogsworth are the same person and that's kind of neat. oh, mel gibson can sing? since when did that happen?

i think too much when i watch movies. you should've seen when i watched inception.

i told my mother we had one week to finish season one of chuck. she came in halfway through season two and i firmly believe that chuck season one is the best television ever to air in the existence of television (which, by the way, was invented in my hometown. you can thank me later.) so we spent some quality time in the basement with chuck bartowski.

i have converted my mom into a chuckster.

bryce larkin: hey, chuck. did you miss me?
chuck: EKASJHGSDKJHG
end of episode: chuck theme music.
my mother: BRYCE! WHY DOES HE ALWAYS RUIN CHUCK'S LIFE? EMILY, WE HAVE TO WATCH THE NEXT EPISODE!
me: you have professional development tomorrow. you need to sleep.
my mother: but... chuck...

success, ladies and gentlemen. that is the sound of success.

tuesday wasn't a stupid day. i had my very last therapy session, which was nice, and i told her all about how shitty my weekend was because of zoloft, and she was like, oh, that's fine, as long as you're feeling better and still taking it and you have a therapist at school right? i think we've done good work this summer.

then i went to the mall with sam, who i've known since i was like... five or something, and he's in a pretty intense bromance with my brother, and we had lunch together and talked about all kinds of things like awkward erections and trans-vaginal ultrasounds while eating subway.

i don't pretend to be normal.

after dinner my mom and i walked to the library to return the fault in our stars. when i put that book into the dropbox, i thought two things.

1. IT'S GONE. MY FEELS. THEY'RE GONE. THANK GOD.
2. that's a really good book. i'll miss it.

we watched more chuck. finished season one. my mother demanded season two. i told her to go to bed. she had a sixty mile bike ride the next morning.

last night, while i was recounting my week to my boyfriend, i was like, what the hell did i do on wednesday? like, i got up at eight and went to the chiropractor and got adjusted, and i scheduled my MRI and all that fun stuff, and i sat around for a while, but then what i did i actually do?

hannah came over. we watched the dark knight. i think hannah almost peed her pants. that's a general dark knight response.

then we realized that the news anchor that the joker hangs upside down on gotham television was part of the brat pack. you know, the dorky redheaded kid from the breakfast club.

i just blew your mind with IMDB knowledge.

of course, i spent an indecent amount of time trolling the andrew garfield tag on tumblr and feeling extensively guilty that i lust after a british actor that's almost twenty-nine years old when i'm in a two year serious relationship that will probably end in marriage.

then my mother and i took a walk and talked about teaching ideas and we watched chuck season two.

my mother: is that the guy from the green mile?
me: yes, his name is michael clark duncan.
my mother: i should remove that IMDB app from your phone.

now thursday, yesterday, was my stupidest day in a long time. hold onto your butts. (jurassic park? someone? anyone?)

i overslept. granted, it's my last day to sleep in until like... thanksgiving. but i way overslept and i was like, OH MAN I HAVE SO MUCH STUFF TO DO

so obviously, i spend an hour looking at pictures of andrew garfield. he is so attractive it should be illegal.

after lunch i pluck up the courage to call the music store. i've hated calling businesses my whole entire life, which is probably due to the terrible speech impediment that i had when i was younger, and then i developed anxiety. my therapist and i talked extensively about why i hate calling businesses, and i just hate sounding stupid over the phone and dealing with cranky people that don't understand what i need because i'm too anxious to say it properly.

this, children, is why i take antidepressants.

the music store man is nice. yes, they have cello strings and if i take in my cello, they'll string it for me. i don't know how to string my own cello.

i pack up estlin (my cello), get in the car, and head to the music store, which is like, a mile from my house.

it's not there.

i sit in the parking lot. freak out a bit. look it up on my phone. my phone tells me to go somewhere stupid. i go home half an hour later and look up the address.

head back out into the rain. drive for another half hour trying to find this effin' address. park in various places. scream and hit my steering wheel. shed a few tears and scream "THIS PLACE DOES NOT (insert eff bomb here) EXIST!"

find the address in the phone book. it's the place where it used to be. they didn't change their address in the phone book.

drive for another half hour. get directions from my phone. of course, i'd driven by it at least five times. all of this is happening within walking distance of my house. i'm pissed off. and it's raining and i can't get my cello out of the case.

the music guy was nice in person, too. he liked my cello. he strung it and tuned it. and it was only twelve bucks.

then i got home and i traced 35 fish onto pieces of construction paper and cut two inch strips of paper to start my recovery chain for my therapist.

then it was MRI time.

i made my brother go with me. i'm getting better about going to the doctor by myself, but it's still not a happy thing that i enjoy doing, and i told aaron that he'd be fine, just bring a book.

the MRI lady takes me back and starts talking about marching band and i'm supposed to remember her son who was a senior when i was a junior, but honestly, i don't remember him at all because i've tried mostly to forget the members of the drumline. i'm wearing a hospital gown and she says it's okay that i have a metal bow in my hair and my metal ring on, but heaven forbid i have any piercings or i might have any metal in my eyes. i feel like i would know if i have metal in my eyes. but my bow and my rings are fine.

"this will be forty-five minutes, emily. don't move. if you get cold, tell me and i'll get you a blanket. you can sleep if you want."

if you haven't had an MRI, especially on your back, let me explain this to you.

1. they strap you in with a big plastic seat belt over your chest. thank god i have small boobs.
2. they slide you into a tube thing. it is literally about three inches away from your face.
3. don't. move. an. inch.
4. they blow cold air in on you. in case you're claustrophobic. i'm not. so i was just cold.
5. it beeps and thunks and is basically an assault in your ears.

"you can sleep if you want."

i closed my eyes and watched spiderman in my head. then i had a terrible vision of them being like, i hate to say this emily, but you have cancer in your spine, it's that bone cancer that augustus had the in the fault in our stars, which is treatable, but remember that in that novel he died, so you should probably have back surgery to get that out of there and then you can take all these nasty drugs and go bald and you'll have a wig but it'll be okay, it's just cancer.

this is why i take antidepressants.

my hands went numb. that was fun. i made aaron drive me home. i spent a long time looking at my results through the windshield.

my spine looks really awesome.

after dinner my mom and i went grocery shopping. remember, my mom is the queen of grocery shopping. while we were looking for discount cereal, we actually had a decently intense discussion about my rare and interesting mental disorder because i've been doing a lot of research about it this week, and i'm so lucky that my mom is incredibly supportive.

she did tell me that she told my grandparents about it and i started to have a panic attack in the poptart aisle, but she said, "i didn't actually say what it was, don't worry" and then she laughed really hard and said, "did i just tell you not to worry?!" because that never works.

we hugged tightly and discussed going to a conference for my rare and interesting mental disorder, but i don't have the money to fly out to dallas, stay in a hotel, and pay for registration. but i'd still like to meet someone with my rare and interesting mental disorder. right now we just kind of connect on tumblr and share war stories.

eventually i'll blog about my rare and interesting mental disorder. i'm not ready yet. but the time is coming.

after my mom and i went grocery shopping, we watched more of chuck season two and we cut out all thirty-five of my construction paper fish. unfortunately, i have a papercut right in that thumb area where the scissors go, so that was fun. then i made my recovery chain and i was so proud of it that i cried and my mom cried a bit and we hugged because i'm recovering.

today i went to the chiropractor for the last time and they looked at my MRI results and this is what's happening to my spine.

1. my disks are like, crowding into each other.
2. there's this stuff inside of my disks that has the consistency of some form of food, i don't remember what he called it. yogurt, maybe? or toothpaste? that's not a food.
3. that stuff is kind of... dehydrated. so there's not as much food consistency. or toothpaste consistency.
4. eventually, my disks will bulge and that'll hurt like a bitch.
5. keep going to the chiropractor. then they won't bulge.
6. NO SURGERY FOR ME, KIDS.

then i went to target, had to accost an employee to find plastic hooks, and i treated myself to starbucks.

have i started packing yet?

noooooooo.

will i start?

ehhh. after lunch.

tomorrow morning at seven, i embark on a journey to alma, where i will move myself into the same room i had last year (hopefully with a different furniture arrangement) and then i start two weeks of RA training.

i love RA training. and this time i get to role play. my role: beer in the hallway.

hell yes. i hope i get to be the kid that drops the beer and makes a run for it.

until then, here is a picture of how incredibly attractive andrew garfield is.

unfff.
"unreleased sexual tension."

post script: on tumblr this morning, i realized that cillian murphy is a prettier woman than i am. cillian murphy is a man. WHAT IS THIS?!

he makes a gorgeous woman.

the magic of drugs!

i feel like this post is going to be angsty.

you know, full of angst.

i'm going to really try to make sure it's not angsty. but the situation is angsty. you know, full of angst.

me: THE FAULT IN OUR STARS MADE ME SO ANGSTY!
my mother: is that a word?
me:
my mother:
me:
my mother:
me: it is now.
my mother: what does it mean?
me: you know. full of angst. did you know that vomitous isn't a word?
my father: that's FASCINATING!

i feel like most people would enjoy eating dinner with my family.

but THIS post is about drugs.

no. not about weed. or cocaine. or crystal meth. those things are bad.

prescription my-doctor-gave-me-this-piece-of-paper-and-i-took-it-to-walgreens-and-it-cost-a-bunch-of-money drugs.

speaking of walgreens, when i had my eighteen day sinus infection of terror, i went to urgent care, and they gave me awkward ear drops for my awkward ear fungus, and i went to walgreens.

and suddenly they're like, oh, we don't work with your insurance anymore, sorry. and i was standing there like, wuuuut.

and i call my dad and he's all like, oh, sorry, forgot to tell you.

no more walgreens for me!

i am so off topic.

so last week i had a follow up appointment with my doctor about all of those blood tests and my ultrasounds and stuff. some things have been confirmed and denied.

1. i have all of my woman parts. wooooooo i can make babies!
2. i have anemia! go me!
3. i have an awkward and interesting spinal nerve disorder/disease/thing.
4. i should probably see a spinal surgeon about that. but at this point, i am too terrified.
5. my doctor can get me antidepressants for free.

this is good. free is good. because my therapist wants me to take them. and going through someone else (not walgreens!) would cost a bunch of money.

so thursday i walked out of my doctor's office with ninety day's worth of free zoloft.

my therapist: i really think that zoloft can help you. i think you should try it.
my doctor: zoloft. now zoloft is a great drug, and i think it's the absolute perfect drug for you. it's going to make such a difference in your life. i just love zoloft.
me: um. sweet.

zoloft is, in fact, an antidepressant.

i am not a depressed person.

in fact, many people question how i can be so unreasonably happy. all the freakin' time.

but i'm taking zoloft for anxiety and my other interesting and rare mental disorder. for full details, see the previous post "i support my brain" and click on the button at the bottom that says HERE.

so. i take my first dose of zoloft at dinner on thursday night. my mom and i walk to walgreens. for cards, not for drugs, since our insurance is silly. we come back, i play the piano.

we go downstairs. i settle down. curl up in my blankets. watch the olympics with my parents. tweet. ice my back.

general olympics activity.

and then my stomach isn't feeling so great. no, it's not feeling great at all, no, it's really not OH SHIT--

and i'm puking. during the olympics. 

so insensitive, zoloft. so insensitive.

i have two more near misses in which i sit on the bathroom floor in my blanket and wait. i'm upset. i want to be watching the olympics, not sacrificing my dinner for the porcelain god. plus, i'm terrified of vomiting. honestly. it's one of my biggest fears. i would rather kill a giant spider than vomit.

i. hate. hurling.

so the next morning my dad wakes me up at nine and he's like, how are you feeling, and i'm like, oh yes, i feel great! and i go back to bed until my alarm goes off at ten. i get up, get in the shower.

i can't figure out how the shampoo works. i'm staring it and i'm like, well this is an interesting contraption. how does one work this?

my head feels empty. fuzzy. my arms don't feel quite attached to my shoulders and i'm watching myself go through the motions of showering, but i don't feel like i'm actually doing it. i'm genuinely surprised when i squirt conditioner onto my hand, like, how did this dollop of orange cream get onto my palm?

pouring my milk felt like taking the ACT. so i sit down at the kitchen table and two things are going through my mind.

1. DA FUQ IS UP WITH MY BRAIN.
2. i can't drive. driving is bad. if i drive i'll die. i need to call my dad.
3. miniwheats. i'm eating miniwheats. why. i'm going to vomit.

that was three things. i call my dad.

high school secretary: northrop high school.
me: yes, i need to speak to bill hollenberg.
secretary: i don't think he's in. it's still summer.
me: he's there. connect me to his room, please, it's important.
my father: hello?
me: DADDY I CAN'T DRIVE COME TAKE ME TO THE CHIROPRACTOR WAHHHH

friday was a big day for me, followed by a big weekend. i was going to drive to michigan to see my boyfriend. on saturday, we were going to hang out with janaya and stephen in battle creek. and sunday, today, we were going to go to lake michigan with jacob's family. i was going to come home on monday.

i call jacob. tell him i can't drive. i'll see how i feel on saturday.

the rest of the day i'm plagued by intense dry mouth. dry mouth, my friends, is pure evil. evil, i tell you. evil!

i take the zoloft at dinner friday night. curl up and watch the olympics.

olympic announcer: DAVID BOUDIA BARELY SCRAPES IT INTO THE FINALS!
my mother: how are you feeling?
me: ughhhhhh.
announcer: TOM DALEY!
me: me gusta.

but alas! no vomiting! simply olympics watching and the occasional groan. and much tom daley appreciation before i fell asleep.

friday's evil dry mouth is replaced by nausea. and that terrible disconnectedness. again.

so, i've never really been under the influence of a drug that makes me feel "nauseous". honestly. every drug that i've had that has that side effect hasn't given me anything. so i've never really known what "nausea" constituted.

i realized it constituted sitting on tumblr and about every five minutes feeling like you're going to vomit, realizing that you're just nauseated and not going to vomit, and sitting there and taking it like a champ.

i'm gonna puke! no. wait. no. it's gone. phew. I'M GONNA PUKE! no. wait. no. it's gone. phew. REBLOG THE AVENGERS. i think i might actually puke this time. nope, never mind. look, tom hiddleston!

i called jacob. cancelled our big weekend in michigan. if i'm going to sit around and feel pukey, i'm going to do it at home and not sit around jacob's house and ruin our plans.

plus, i shouldn't be anywhere near a car.

my mother decided that getting some fresh air would be good for me. so we walked to the library with my brother, who, by the way, is home for the summer.

"welcome home, your sister is dying of zoloft side effects and can't walk down the stairs without her legs shaking uncontrollably. but we have bacon!"

walking to the library was blessed. it was lovely. i looked for more john green books, and there were none to be had. i checked out the movies, none were interesting.

i then sat in a chair and promptly felt like i was going to spew everything i'd ever eaten in my life all over the library floor.

when we got home, i curled up in bed and watched the lion king on VHS. twice.

my dad devised a plan.

i was going to take my zoloft right before bed. that way, i'd sleep through the terrible onset nausea.

my fear that is bigger than vomiting: waking up in the middle of the night and vomiting. nuh uh. i don't deal with that.

this was my angsty zoloft post on tumblr:

dear zoloft,

you have kept me from going on a fun-filled weekend trip to michigan with my boyfriend.

you make made me vomit. during the olympics, of all times.

you have taken away my ability to drive.

you have made my legs shake uncontrollably when i walk down the stairs.

you have taken away my appetite.

and i've only taken two of your pills.

needless to say, i didn't want to take that third pill.

but the appetite thing. totally true. i was planning on losing five pounds this summer, and that didn't quite work out. but with the way things are going right now, i could accomplish this in the next three days.

veggie burger: 1 emily: 0.

milk: 1 emily: 0.

lucky charms: 1 emily: 0

have you bitten into something and just said LOL NOPE in your brain?

that veggie burger. one bite of that and i wanted to crawl into my bed and die.

my dad: are you going to finish that?

me: no. i'm so nauseated.

my grandma: of course you are. it's a veggie burger.

i can never live down being a vegetarian in a family full of omnivores. ever.

for the record, i did not wake up and vomit. this is good. because i did enough of that when i was little. the carpet licorice/vomit stain of 2000 was a pretty hefty stain.

i came downstairs for breakfast this morning and for the first time in three days, did not feel disconnected. in fact, i felt well enough to safely get behind the wheel of a car.

then i opened the pantry and my nausea was like, oh hey, emily, how's it hangin'? i see you want some breakfast. let me make these lucky charms the most unappetitizing things you have ever seen in your entire life.

it could've been worse. yesterday i gagged on a pancake.

eventually, zoloft is going to do what it's supposed to do, which is to help me control my anxiety and other things. and i'm going to stop vomiting and being disconnected. and i'll be able to drive and walk down the stairs like the spry twenty-one year old girl that i am. 

but until then, i'm sitting in my arm chair, reminding myself that it's very unlikely that i'll actually vomit even though i feel like i'm going to, and watching disney movies on VHS.

at least my brother is home. as long as i can't drive, he'll have to take me anywhere i want to go. which is mostly the chiropractor.

but this is the biggest injustice of the entire weekend:

today, sunday, after a nice good lunch in which i did not lose my appetite, i decided that i felt decent enough to leave the house.

me: WE'RE GONNA GO SEE SPIDERMAN

my brother: NERDGASM TIME

spiderman showtimes: ha. no.

so now i'm actually feeling decent and i can't go see spiderman because of inconvenient show times that  coincide with dinner with my grandmother. 

spiderman shows. the indecency. you dare to keep me away from the greatest movie of the summer for the fourth time? YOU DARE?

it dared. i'm going to continue my disney movie marathon.

and give you this picture of tom daley. with a nice union flag on that scrumptious butt of his.

i believe the correct caption for this is
"dat ass."

the mandatory olympics post!

IT'S TIME FOR THE OLYMPICS POST!

i tried to write this like... last monday. and it got really melodramatic, and i try to shy away from that, so i deleted it and moved on with my life.

meaning i grabbed my laptop, a dr. pepper, a gigantic bag of ice for my back per my chiropractor's suggestion, and i parked my ass on our fifties couch in the basement and watched the olympics for four hours.

being a blogger is bad for your health. when i'm not parking my ass in places with my laptop, i'm laying in bed reading.

strong mind. weak abs.

but anyway, it's time for my olympics post, which i'm tentatively going to title that post where emily admits to being completely unpatriotic and rooting for other teams, mostly underdogs and especially great britain.


#teamGB!

i'm not saying #teamGB (which is almost shameful for me to type. i've pretty much given up hashtags on twitter.) because the olympics are being hosted in london. i'm saying team great britain because i just really love great britain.

i went to london for three days when i was thirteen. i spent the remaining seven days of my europe trip in amsterdam, but the netherlands didn't quite click like england did.

i want to live in england when i graduate from college.

there are a lot of reasons for this.

1. i don't want to get into these reasons on my blog.
2. it's about politics and other stuff i don't even understand.
3. it may have something to do with the fact that i live in indiana, but probably not.
4. you actually thought this list was me listing why i want to live in england and not america. you poor soul. it's okay. even i didn't really know where this list was going.

but anyway, i'm pretty much team great britain and south africa. (and australia. i like them a lot.)

when it comes to the olympics, i am the ultimate fangirl. the past olympics that i've watched and actually been able to understand (sydney, athens, beijing) i didn't know what fangirling was. but now i understand and realized i was a fangirl all along.

now that i am a true fangirl, thanks to tumblr and john green and other various things, london has been an exceptional olympics in which i have bawled my eyes out over great britain's men's gymnastics team.

i saw something on tumblr the other day to the effect of: if you're not crying over your favorite olympic athlete, you're not watching the olympics properly.

i don't have a favorite olympic athlete. we could go by country, i suppose.

america: probably gabby douglas. and missy franklin. she's cool.
great britain- their entire men's rowing team, men's gymnastics team, jessica ennis, mo farah, men's diving, I JUST LOVE ALL OF THEM OKAY
south africa- chad le clos, kirsty coventry, and oscar pistorius.
australia- any of their swimmers. particularly emily seebohm. i also enjoy their rowing team.
russia- KROMOWIDJOJO. that woman can swim.

i'm getting off topic. this where i write about how incredibly unpatriotic i am, and how i really don't care. and how much i love the olympics.

right. the olympics are every four years.

every summer that the olympics are NOT on is a wasted summer. seriously, my mother and i wait for this. we count down for this. last year, we spent most of july saying, ONE MORE YEAR UNTIL LONDON YAAAAAY and i spent most of two weeks ago starting a countdown for the opening ceremonies. i spent the opening ceremonies at my boyfriend's house in michigan.

jacob: we're going to watch pulp fiction, i rented it.
me: no we're not, we're watching the london opening ceremonies. i missed beijing's and i haven't forgiven myself.
jacob: but we rented pulp fiction.
me: SIT YOUR ASS DOWN AND WATCH THE OPENING CEREMONIES WITH ME, I'VE WAITED FOUR YEARS FOR THIS.

the opening ceremonies were, as usual, breathtaking. i've heard that beijing was absolutely incredible, and i still can't figure out why i missed it, because i didn't even have a job the summer that i was seventeen, and jacob said that they were only fabulous so that china could impress the capitalists.

they only need to impress me with diving. man. talk about making tom daley look incompetent on the ten meter platform.

this was where i had the first of my two intense AHA! moments of this year's olympiad and when i realized that i was truly team great britain and not just jumping on the "oh the games are in london let's support england" bandwagon.

when great britain's olympic team walked out during the parade of nations and they were waving their union flags and singing "god save the queen", i had never seen people be more proud of their country and of hosting the olympics in my entire life. and i realized that i felt more strongly toward the union flag than i have ever felt toward our good old american flag.

you can call me unpatriotic. i really don't care. it's only going to get worse from here.

london is where i gave up my long-standing crush on ryan lochte. everybody is in love with him, but i've been watching him since athens. look at footage of michael phelps from eight years ago, and sure enough, ryan lochte is there, under the radar.

now he's a really big deal, and i'm beginning to realize how stupid he is. like, seriously, he's just an unintelligent person. he's a great swimmer, but i lost most of my respect for him when he bit his gold medal wearing a grill, when i realized that his famous "ryan lochte" shoes were made backwards, i frequented his twitter, and realized that he had a blog run by an unknown person that can spell only a little bit better than he can.

i have no love for ryan lochte. in fact, when he wasn't on the men's medley relay last night, i spent a good five minutes laughing. i also tweeted him asking him where he learned to spell.

i'm a terrible person. it's okay. it's going to get worse as i continue to write this.

my first night of olympic coverage was at my grandparents' house last sunday with swimming and the night first of women's qualifying gymnastics. when it comes to women's gymnastics, i'm all for team USA, but a fair chunk of my cheering goes to team russia. anyway, we're watching swimming.

my grandparents, my cousin, and my uncle know nothing about swimming. my parents know enough, having raised two swimmers.

i competitively swam for sixteen years and i've been a swim coach for four years. i know my stuff. swimming is kind of my thing.

i, of course, was cheering for team great britain and team south africa. south africa has a really legitimate swim team and nobody really gives them credit for it. great britain has a ways to go in the swimming department, outside of rebecca adlington. but south africa has kirsty coventry, and did people just forget about her long standing world records that nobody's been able to beat?

so. the race is the 100 breaststroke final. NBC is really hyped up about brendan hansen, coming out of retirement, out to finally beat kitajima. (kitajima, incidentally, changed breaststroke pullout rules in athens to avoid being disqualified. his pullout change is now accepted worldwide. fun fact that you didn't care about.) and of course, hansen and our japanese friend who always seems to swipe gold are right next to each other in outside lanes, and since this is america, they're only focusing on him and hansen.

while they battle it out, nobody notices that south africa wins, takes gold, and gets a new world record.

NBC: and hansen barely takes bronze and kitajima doesn't even medal! what a race! too bad for hansen, though...
me: SOUTH AFRICAAAAAA OMG THAT WAS SO GREAT LOOK AT THE WORLD RECORD SOUTH AFRICAAAA
my grandmother: emily. cheer for the united states.

later.

me: GREAT BRITAIN! WOOOO GREAT BRITAIN! WAY TO BE!
my grandmother: EMILY! REALLY! CHEER FOR THE UNITED STATES!
me: ADLINGTONNNNNNNNN

monday night swimming. women's 100 breaststroke final.

ruta meilutyte beats rebecca soni and claims gold. meilutyte is fifteen and from lithuania.

the world: oh no rebecca soni! oh no!
me: LITHUAAAAANIA (this was posted on several social networks.)

it's not that i don't like rebecca soni. i really do. she's a great person and a wonderful swimmer. but when you see ruta meilutyte crying and hugging soni because she just beat the greatest breaststroker of the recent decaded and she's only fifteen and she got a gold medal, you can't help but cheer for that. think about how proud she's made herself, her family, and her country.

monday night was the ill-fated "emily's tweets get out of hand over team great britain" episode on twitter. men's gymnastics all around. let's take a look.

@emilyyxh: GREAT BRITAIN TIME.
@emilyyxh: can i just love great britain until i explode with feels? I NEED TO STOP TWEETING
@emilyyxh: AEURWHDGUDFHGUDSGDFG YES GREAT BRITAIN YES YES YES YES SKJDJHGJTESJDSFHG YESSSSSSSSS
@emilyyxh: SILVER BABY. SILVER. I AM CRYING ALONE IN MY BASEMENT. SILVER FOR GREAT BRITAIN.
@emilyyxh: i'm sitting here sobbing. I CAN'T CONTAIN MY FEELS.
@emilyyxh: WHAT JUST HAPPENED WITH THAT CALL. WHAT. THE. HELL. NO.
@emilyyxh: great britain still medaled. i love my british boys. i'm going to bed now, i swear. GREAT BRITAIN, BABY.

(note: these are all legitimate tweets. i just went to my twitter and copy/pasted them.)

fangirling should be an olympic sport. i think i'm close to gold.

and you know, after this, i didn't lose any followers, surprisingly. this was the worst of my tweeting, but it didn't get much better. until the olympics are over, i suggest avoiding me. and my twitter.

my next big happy dance was when chad le clos outtouched michael phelps in the 200 fly.

i love michael phelps as much as the next person. i spent most of middle school and high school idolizing him. he's a nice, great guy that trains hard and is the best swimming and olympic athlete in the world. but he's human.

and when chad le clos outtouched by .05 seconds, i completely lost it.

@emilyyxh: SOUTH AFRICAAAAAAAAA
@emilyyxh: CHAD LE CLOS. YOU ARE MY HERO OF THE DAY. YOU DESERVE THE GOLD MEDAL. YOU ARE AWESOME.

twitter needs bold and italics capacity. my caps lock is getting worn.

my third cousin in a tumblr post: fun fact, i just watched emily freak out on three social networks.

proud of it, matt. proud of it.

later in the week, when doing a personal interest story on michael phelps and how he retired as of last night, NBC said something along the lines of "michael phelps was victimized by chad le clos".

excuse me, NBC?

if chad le clos victimized michael phelps, then michael phelps has victimized countless other swimmers in his quest to be the most decorated olympian of all time.

chad le clos beat michael phelps fair and square. get over it. nobody was victimized.

around that time, someone on twitter subtweeted who i'm assuming was me (i know. i'm vain, assuming people on twitter subtweet me.) by saying something along the lines of this: if you're american and supporting other countries, you probably should keep that yourself. #shameful

i want to ask you a question now.

what is shameful in supporting a fifteen year old lithuanian girl in achieving her dreams of getting a gold medal? of supporting great britain as they medal for the first time ever in men's gymnastics? of being moved as chad le clos' father cries into a south african flag as his son beats the fastest swimmer in the world?

tell me what's shameful about that and maybe i'll shut up about how much i love other countries and not just america.

i never said i didn't love america. i am one hundred percent behind the fab five, and i love missy franklin to death. the women's medley relay was one of the most intense relays i have ever seen, and i screamed myself hoarse for them. i love it when michael phelps wins as much as the next person, and gabby douglas reduced me to tears.

i just also happen to support other countries, particularly great britain and south africa.

i forgot to mention my second AHA! moment, since i mentioned the first. oops. awkward transition.

back on sunday i was watching the 400 freestyle with my family, and they did a small, personal segment on rebecca adlington, britain's swimming star. it was another union flag AHA! moment, rather like the first one that i had during the opening ceremonies. when she help up her flag and her gold medal in beijing, i realized that i just really love the union flag and i felt very proud of it.

i'm not sure where this pride comes from. trust me, it scares me, being prideful of someone else's flag more than my own. i think i really am destined to possibly live in great britain in the next three years.

but here's how this went down when watching the 400 freestyle.

my grandmother: GO ALLISON SCHMITT!
me: ADLINGTON! GET HER! GET HER! TAKE HER DOWN!
my grandmother: STOP CHEERING FOR BRITAIN. SERIOUSLY. STOP IT.

i'm not going to stop. yesterday great britain got six gold medals and i was over the moon about it.

at this point, i really don't care if you think i'm an unpatriotic asshole because i cheer for other countries. i'm pretty sure that a lot of other countries cheer for us. chad le clos idolizes michael phelps, and i'm reasonably sure that his dad didn't think he was unpatriotic to south africa for watching and cheering for him in athens and beijing. just because i'm from america doesn't mean i have to exclusively cheer for america.

the olympics, in truth, is about coming together. it's about 204 countries that get together and support each other, race each other, and lift each other up and we show the world what the human body is physically capable of together. the olympics is about joining together through the world of sports.

morgan freeman says go world.


i say go world too.

i'm going to leave you with this beautiful picture of great britain's diving team. in hopes to convert you to team great britain during the last week of the olympics.

i don't support them just because of this. but it's a good reason to, right? :)


post script: if you want to see why i think ryan lochte is one of the stupidest olympians on the planet, click here. seriously. i laughed for half an hour.

i blogged about my weekend.

i want to take this moment to say that i am an olympics nut. this is not my post about the olympics.

but i just want to say that i am in my basement, where we have the only TV that has channels, and i'm curled up with my laptop, my sorority blanket, and i'm not planning on moving. all i need is my stuffed simba.

THIS post is about my weekend. and how awesome it was. it was so awesome, it's going to come in parts.

are you ready? of course you're ready. you have to be ready.

EMILY GOES AND VISITS HER BOYFRIEND, JACOB, IN MICHIGAN FOR THE WEEKEND.


this is the encompassing title. that's not a part. that's the title of the entire weekend. awesome.

we're not cute. we're frightening.

in case you forget what jacob and i look like, or you never knew to begin with, here's a cute picture of us. or something.

so i leave at four in the afternoon, because of course, jacob has to train for his iron man or whatever he's training for, and he's angsty because he has a stress fracture and he can't run, so he was swimming, and this is a really long sentence, but i left at four. my mother warns me about storms coming into the area. so i'm driving with the windows down and i'm excited to get to the michigan border because then i can listen to my indie station, and i'm looking at the sky, and i'm driving straight toward dark clouds.

then i'm driving straight toward black skies.

and then it starts raining, and my first thought is, hmm, i should roll up my windows, my guitar is in the back seat and i spent a good sixty bucks on that sucker.


my second thought is OMG I CAN'T SEE IT'S RAINING SO FREAKIN' HARD I CAN'T SEE ANYTHING OMG I'M GONNA DIE.

it was exciting.

the next fun part of my drive was on 94 in michigan. 94 is your generic 2 lane highway. just like 69, which is most of my drive to alma. but there's just something about it that's so different from 69.

there is so much traffic on 94 it's ridiculous. cruise control? forget about it.

i'm already late because i took too long eating an apple before my drive, and about twenty miles from my exit to jacob's, traffic starts to slow down. i'm behind a semi and i'm thinking maybe i should get into the left lane if i can, but i decide to stick it out behind mr. semi. we're moving toward a traffic jam. we're averaging five miles an hour. i'm thinking about breaking my phone while driving ban and calling jacob while my car is stopped.

we're beyond kalamazoo. i'm not sure why there's this much traffic and why it's standing still.

of course. somebody got pulled over. it caused a five mile traffic jam. because somebody got pulled over.

the train wreck effect? "holy cow! that person got pulled over! i need to slow down to ten miles an hour and stare! never mind that i'm on a heavily trafficked highway where the speed limit is seventy!"

THE OLYMPIC CEREMONIES WERE... UH... AWESOME.


i'm trying to figure out why i missed the beijing opening ceremonies. i really am. i did nothing that summer. i went to LA in june and helped out hundreds of homeless people, but that was about it. so why did i miss the best opening ceremonies of all time?

jacob could care less about the olympics. i live for the olympics. best. summer. ever.

me: we have to watch the opening ceremonies.
jacob: but i rented pulp fiction.
me: NBC. NOW. I'VE WAITED FOUR YEARS FOR THIS.

before they start, jacob's news channel spends a lot of time talking about all of the michigan athletes. most of them are GVSU rowers. which is awesome. rowing is cool.

and then suddenly kenneth branaugh is there with a cigar and a top hat, looking like abraham lincoln, and i remember how AWESOME kenneth branaugh is and then it's opening ceremonies time and he's reciting shakespeare on a hill and it was awesome.

emily's personal highlights.

1. kenneth branaugh. obviously.
2. THEY SET FIRE TO THE RAIN.
3. those industrial columns were pretty cool.
4. just kidding, harry potter, voldemort's back and he's 100 feet tall.
5. that kid. his shirt said "frankie says relax".
6. the queen. she's cool. and no, she didn't sky dive. c'mon guys, she's in her eighties.
7. the fireworks. they were awesome.
8. i just love the olympics.

during the parade of nations, jacob gets up and starts to put in pulp fiction.

me and jacob's mom: what are you doing.
jacob: if we're going to watch pulp fiction we have to watch it now.
me: but france is coming up in the parade. i like france.
jacob: but i rented it.
jacob's mom: put that DVD away, sit down, and watch the parade. NOW.

later, jacob and me: SENEGAL! ITALY! SPAIN! COUNTRIES!

apparently, we like all the same countries.

then, even later, me: GREAT BRITAIN! SAEKHGJSEFG! I LOVE GREAT BRITAIN! AHHH! ENGLAND! AHHHH! THE UNION FLAG! THEIR TEAM IS SO BEAUTIFUL!

i kinda like england. a lot.

RUNNING INTO ADAM AND STUFF, LIKE KAYAKING


jacob and i went kayaking in the morning, which was fun. i associate kayaking with god, which isn't that weird if you think about it, because the first time i went kayaking was at church camp. we paddled around a small lake and we got out at a sand bar, and while jacob was sitting with his butt stuck in the sand, a fish bit his hip.

you should see that kid jump.

halfway back across the lake, i took a few minutes to meditate with god in my kayak, and lo behold, a teeny blue damsel fly landed on my finger. he smiled at me. we bonded for a good five minutes. he was really cute. god is good.

after kayaking, i cheered a lot for great britain in men's road cycling, and then jacob took me out to lunch at a coffee shop, where we ran into his good and awesome friend adam.

after having a nice lunch with adam, we decide to go to the antique shop next door.

i buy a lion shaped cookie cutter for a dollar.

think of all of the beautiful lion shaped cookies that i can make! it's lion shaped! my happiness was rather incredible.

after that, we went into an art building and looked at some fancy wood work, and then, like the hipsters we are, we sat by the river, played guitars, and sang folk music. that was pretty awesome.

then we went to the grocery store to pick up sour cream, and i wanted an adult beverage for jacob's bonfire. the michigan cashier had fun with my indiana driver's license. and adam bought me a delicious doughnut.

THE EIGHT HOUR BONFIRE OF HAPPINESS


jacob decided that this weekend was a good weekend for a get together with friends. because we're RAs all the time, not just at school, if you were of age and wanted to bring an adult beverage, you could, which is why i bought that yummy wine cooler. at six, jacob's high school friends came over, we started a fire, and we had a bonfire. because that's what happens when you start fires, right? but we started a fire and had a bonfire.

until three in the morning.

we grilled hamburgers on the fire (except for jacob and me) and janaya and stephen, jacob's awesome friends that just got married last weekend, showed up with a very large jug of lemon vodka. janaya shared some of it with me.

it tasted like lemon rubbing alcohol. i'll stick with wine coolers.

stephen, jacob, alex, joe, and eric all smoked pipes, janaya got drunk and we became best friends, kelsey showed up around eleven, and we talked about all kinds of things.

and allegan, where jacob lives, has stars. fort wayne doesn't have stars. i spent a decent amount of time just looking up at the stars.

we ate yummy food. we laughed. we talked. oh, and i got to hold a gun.

when it comes to guns, i take the odd thomas/chuck bartowski approach.

odd thomas: "i'm spooked by guns."
chuck bartowski: "i get the idea of, uh, point and click? but see, i've, uh, well i've never actually, uh, i've never really fired a gun, or really, uh, held a gun, or killed anybody with a gun, and i just don't think this is a good idea-"

i've fired a gun. i've shot a rifle. at popcans in the desert. that was fun.

this was a hand held pistol.

jacob made sure about eighty times that it was unloaded before i touched it. i kept it pointed at the ground. i was still convinced that it was loaded.

i held a personal pistol in my hand for about a minute and i wanted to pee myself in terror.

rest assured, if i were to murder you, it would not be with a gun.

AS MY VHS COLLECTION GROWS


janaya and stephen and jacob and i went on a double date on sunday, after sleeping in from being up until three having the magical bonfire. we decided that we were going to go the antique fair, which i guess is a really big deal.

there were thousands of people. thousands of vendors. thousands of items. people from different states.

it was a really big deal.

after four hours of hardcore antiquing and pining over a couch and drinking a fabulous expensive lemonade, i came away with titanic (and the little mermaid) on VHS.

i just really enjoy VHS tapes. and more importantly, watching them.

the couch that i pined over was awesome, by the way. totally awesome. it was yellow, leather, circular, and came with yellow, leather, and circular chairs. but i'm poor. i don't have 750 bucks for two awesome chairs and an awesome couch.

i also pined over a schwinn bike from the fifties, too many paper weights, and a lot of really awesome rotary phones.

after four hours of antiquing with janaya, who's an absolute pro, we only saw half of the vendors. seriously. this antique fair was that. awesome.

and now i've come to the last part of my weekend. hold onto your pants.

AND THEN I ILLEGALLY SMUGGLED A WASP BACK INTO INDIANA


the drive from allegan to fort wayne is a good two and a half hours. i was making it on 94 with my windows down and listening to the fantastic indie station. i stopped to pee outside of kalamazoo (that awesome lemonade caught up with me) and then i get back in my car and i'm ready to head to my grandparents' for popcorn and olympic swimming and gymnastics. my ears hurt, so i roll up in my windows.

i'm on the higway. i hear a buzzing sound.

i see something large dive bomb into my passenger wheel well.

i ignore it. it's something big and black, but i can't hear it anymore, and besides, the buzzing made it sound like it was dying.

twenty miles later. something flies across my line of vision and goes into my wheel well.

pretty sure it's a wasp of some kind. i have cruise control. if i don't move my legs, it should have no reason to sting me.

another ten miles. i ignore it.

then it decides that it wants to dive bomb my steering column. now it's somewhere around my steering wheel and my dashboard, and now i'm freaking out. i don't know where the damn thing is. i move to pass a semi. i flip my turn signal.

it's on my turn signal toggle.


it erupts into a loud amount of buzzing, it flies at my face, i scream and don't crash, and then it's sitting on my windshield, right by my rear view mirror.

this isn't a yellow jacket. this is a big nasty black wasp thing. i have my air conditioning on. i roll down both of my windows to give it incentive to leave.

it sits.

and when i say it sits on my windshield, it sat. for almost forty miles.


those were the longest forty miles of my life, let me tell you. i spent more time looking at the lethal bastard than i did looking at the highway.

we near indiana. to ease my nerves, i negotiate.

me: hey there, wasp. i know it's a long fly to indiana, so i'm willing to drive you there, if you promise not to sting me or make me crash my car. i feel like this is a good deal. when we reach indiana, please exit to the right, out of the passenger side window.
wasp: cool. i'm just going to sit here and scare the shit out of you.

we reach indiana. it doesn't move. i'm praying now. praying. because i don't want to get stung (i've never really been stung. i was once. in the netherlands. some form of dutch bee. it doesn't count.) and i certainly don't want to crash my car if it flies at me.

ten miles into indiana it starts crawling. toward me. and then it flies at me and out the window.

i scream. keep control of the car. breathe explosively. roll up the windows and continue to breathe explosively.

i adjust my position by leaning forward and cracking my back.

the bastard is still in the car. nudged up against my car door. IT HASN'T LEFT. IT IS STILL IN MY VEHICLE.

i scream again. keep control of the car. roll down the window.

after nearly seventy miles of wasp smuggling, it exits at angola.

it was pretty much... awful.

THE END OF THIS POST AS WE KNOW IT (AND I FEEL FINE?)

let's recap.

1. i went to michigan.
2. i went kayaking and bonded with a dragon fly.
3. i went antiquing and got a lion shaped cookie cutter and two VHS tapes.
4. the opening ceremonies were awesome. i recapped it in a list like this one.
5. i went to a coffee shop and played guitar by a river.
6. i had an eight hour bonfire that was awesome.
7. i held a gun and was scared out of my mind.
8. i illegally smuggled a wasp across state lines.

it was a pretty awesome weekend.

next post: how emily feels about the olympics. coming soon to a blog near you.

city city city city.

has it really been almost a month since i last blogged?

why, yes, yes it has. oops. can i give you a list of reasons? sure i can.

1. i have an average of five appointments a week. don't worry. i'm fine. i think.
2. odd thomas. this is a legitimate reason.
3. work work work!
4. um. more odd thomas.

but this post is about city. which is work.

do you even know what city is? probably not. you're about to find out.

city in a nutshell is this: athreedayswimmeetwithseventeenteamsandtheresabigparadeanditssuperlongandsuperfunandyoudecoratecarsandstuff.

HOLD ONTO YOUR PANTS!

city is basically the biggest weekend of my entire life. like, bigger than anything i do at school.

theoreticaly, i have been a part of seventeen cities. realistically, i think i've done maybe... ten.

it's broken into four sessions.

1. eight and under session. friday night, three until eight.
2. fifteen and over and eleven and twelve session. six forty-five until noon-ish, saturday morning.
3. thirteen and fourteen and nine and ten session. noon-ish until seven-ish. saturday afternoon.
4. finals session. all ages that made it back for finals. noon until whenever the hell the meet gets done.

this doesn't count sunday morning. but i'll get to that.

FRIDAY.

so this begins with the twins (hannah and emma) and parker, our prep coach, coming over to my house on friday afternoon so we could carpool to southside, because it's a hefty trip. note that southside, the nicest pool in fort wayne, is in the ghetto.

parker and the twins arrive. emma and i paint parker's toenails bright pink. i mean BRIGHT PINK. we don't mess around. my mom stands next to me and croons about how cute parker's toenails are.

on the way to southside, we're sitting in traffic between two SVUs full of older, african american women. what are we doing?

blasting "single ladies" and screaming IF YA LIKE THEN YOU SHOULDA PUT A RING ON IT

because that's what we do. we're dancing. parker is trying to disappear in my back seat.

aren't they cute? :)

as far as the friday night session goes, it's always decently stressful. it takes forever because every single person swimming is between the ages of three and eight. and yes, there was a three year old.

our eight and unders swam amazingly. a bunch of them dropped time and even made it back for finals, which is awesome, because they only take the top sixteen, and believe me, there were over 100 girls swimming the 25 freestyle.

emma and i spent a decent amount of time stalking ryan, who coaches arlington's little kids. he was at leigh-ann palmer with his toenails painted and wearing a pink bathrobe with puppies on it.

the life of a swim coach.

the only bad thing about friday night was the fact that brian was his normal pain in the butt seven year old self. we couldn't find him, and parker finally tracked him down up in the stands, where three of us had expressly forbidden him to go. like the west wing in the beauty and the beast.

he then slipped, fell, and almost seriously injured himself, like almost cracked open his head on the pool deck injured himself, and that involved five lifeguards, the natatorium director, and his babysitter.

if anything medically is going to happen to you, you want it to happen to you at southside. it's in the top five safest pools in the country.

SATURDAY.


the twins and parker arrive at my house at six ten in the morning. we load up into the twins' car and what do we do?

go through the starbucks drive thru.

ignore the blurriness. we were
rounding a curve.

we're wearing matching shirts. all four of us. hannah rolls down the window, leans out, and says, "we need four of the biggest java chips that you have with extra whipped cream, please." like this is the most normal thing in the world.

that was some damn good starbucks.

we get to the natatorium at six forty-five am. it's gonna be a long day.

i drink my starbucks way too quickly. i have to pee. we're not allowed on deck, so i use the bathroom upstairs where the parents are, and there's some orchard ridge parent in the stall next to me on her cell phone. i'm just doing my business and suddenly she's asking me if clinton and calhoun are parallel streets. and i'm like, yeah, clinton is east of calhoun, but they're parallel, and she's like, oh okay thanks, i'm giving this lady directions, and i'm sitting there like, uh, we're using the bathroom here. at seven in the morning.


the morning session was almost but not quite a nightmare. we had a large number of eleven twelve girls, and none of them made it back, but they sure had fun. the problem was, every other team (that's sixteen teams.) had a bunch of eleven twelve girls too.

the meet. did. not. end.

we were scheduled to end at noon and have warm ups for the third session be at twelve fifteen.

it's noon. we're still on backstroke. that leaves butterfly, IM, and the relays. oh, and there's another age group competing, too, don't forget the fifteen and overs.

at this point, my back is starting to hurt. a lot. a lot a lot. it hurt enough that emma and i snuck into the lifeguard locker room, raided their freezer, and got a bag of ice. i sat against a wall for a while, highlighting my heat sheet for the next session, and then it broke and dripped all over me. it looked like i sweated through my shirt. delightful.

around eleven thirty, hannah and i were hungry. lucky for us coaches, there's a hospitality room where you can walk in and basically eat anything that you want. last year i explicitly suggested vegetarian options, and so far all i had encountered for a main meal was a chicken wrap and some fried chicken, so that was upsetting.

but they had doughnuts.


you know those dunkin' donuts oreo doughnuts that are new?

i grabbed one.

i eat some cheese and pasta salad and hannah's going through results, and i start it on my doughnut.

absolute foodgasm.


hannah's sitting next to me and david (arlington's coach that i went to high school with) is across from me and they're talking to me about results, but all i can think about is how this doughnut is seriously the best thing i have eaten in my entire freaking life.

me: eskhrgkeushgkjdhgsg
david: emily. you're moaning.
me: THIS DOUGHNUT AHHH I CAN'T WHAT IT'S SO AHHHH

um. yes. tumblrspeak employed in the work place.

oh, i forgot to mention, i've had "prince ali" from aladdin stuck in my head. the entire fuggin' day.


if you don't know that song, here it is, for your enjoyment.

i know.

so by three o'clock in the afternoon, the third session is dragging. we have a lot of nine ten girls, and they're swimming fabulously. but our coffee has worn out, and we've been here since before seven. we're getting reeeal sleepy.

and prince ali is melting my brain.

so emma and i start holding hands. we're popping up behind people (mostly david) and screaming STRONG AS TEN REGULAR MEN DEFINITELYYYYY like it's our job. every time we sit down, we wonder if we'll have the strength to stand back up. my entire life has become scratching events off my heat sheet and robin william's singing in my head.

around five, parker sits down with me and hannah and emma. and he decides to tell us a story about driving over here.

parker: so i was driving to emily's house and i saw a ferret.
this is the funniest thing that emma and i have ever heard. we are so delirious that we burst into laughter.
parker: so this ferret has a bird in its mouth, right?
emma and i are crying we are laughing so hard.
parker: so i'm watching this ferret cross the road with a bird in its mouth and then BOOM it's hit by a truck!
emma and i are literally on the pool deck, crying because we are laughing so hard.


i think you can agree that this story isn't funny. this is what city does to you.

i was instructed to go find my chiropractor's husband (who is also a chiropractor) to help time about halfway through the third session. i find her in the stands and she runs up to me and she's like, OMG EMILY IS YOUR BACK OKAY DO YOU NEED ME TO DO SOMETHING TO IT I CAN TRY TO ADJUST IT I KNOW YOUV'E BEEN STANDING ALL DAY ARE YOU GOING TO DIE

and i'm like, i just need your husband.

oh, just a reminder, PRINCE ALIIII FABULOUS HEEEEEEE

to keep it in your head while you're reading.

so. saturday is EXACTLY twelve hours long. i call my dad to tell him i'm on my way home. he hopes that i don't mind that they started eating dinner without me. it's seven at night and they just couldn't wait to eat their pizza. when i get home, my voice is gone and my dad doesn't trust me to hold my own plate.

i'm that tired.

we end up watching the little mermaid. i tried singing poor unfortunate souls and i sounded almost exactly like ursula.

SUNDAY.


sunday is full of fun activities that involve me picking up the twins and being at the pool at nine thirty. we're wearing our matching tank tops that we puffy painted ourselves. mr. nanna, my boss's husband, has like, surround sound in his escalade, and we're listening to party music. kids start arriving. we have a guy in a frog costume running around and dying of heat stroke. we're car decorating.

oooooh yeah.

after car decorating, there's dancing. and they start playing the macarena, and the twins and i are like, YEAH! NINETIES!

and the younger kids are like, what the hell is the macarena. 

it's a sad world that we live in.

most of the kids and the twins ride in a trolley all the way downtown. we parade our cars and i'm waving a flag out of my car. we get to southside and everything is completely parked up, and i parallel parked (go me!) and then it's warm up time, and then it's parade time.

parade time. seventeen teams. we all line up outside, we all dress up (one year sean was buzz lightyear. that was pretty sweet.) and we walk in and scream and hoot and holler and do our team cheer and this is what city is really about, it's about getting together and having a fun meet with all the other summer teams.

we walk in screaming WE ARE THE BIGGEST, THE BADDEST, THE BEST YOU EVER SEEN, WE ARE THE GREEN AND BLACK SENSATION, THE AUTUMN RIDGE SWIM TEAM!

and thank god avalon didn't do their cheer that they've been doing since i was little. because that damn cheer will get stuck in my head all day and i already have the macarena in my head. i'd rather have prince ali.

after warm ups, the meet begins.

and let me tell you, we swam like bosses. it was our best city performance in a long, long time. and it was extra super fun.

my feet were soaked. they were tired. my voice was absolutely gone, but does that stop me from screaming and sounding like a dying pneumonia patient?

no, of course not.

when the meet was over, the twins and i sat on a bench, holding hands, completely dazed. and then we cried a little bit.

it was a good weekend. we had four kids take firsts in finals, and our relays were outstanding.

my voice still hasn't sufficiently recovered. but that's okay.

so now my job is over and i have another year without the most stressful weekend of my life. hoooray!

now here's some stuff i forgot to mention.

1. muffin smuggling and stuffing.

2. emma seeing jesus in the heat sheet.

3. me reading CCST as something completely inapproriate in my delirium.

4. various crying over ankle bracelets being banned.

5. me stuffing my face with olives because that was all that was left in the hospitality room.

those were some fine olives, by the way. very fine olives.

i didn't do this justice.

but nobody can ever do city justice unless you go and experience it. city is a once in a lifetime experience.

i've just gotten to experience it every year since i was four. :)

you're already invading my privacy anyway.

THIS POST IS A GROSS INVASION OF MY PRIVACY!

which is cool. because i'm writing it. and i can invade my own privacy if i want.

the question is, do you want to invade my privacy with me.

i feel like you do. this is blog about my life, and you're reading it, so you're reading about my life and what i have to say about it, so you're already invading my privacy anyway.

might as well keep going.

today was the day! today was the day that i got a trans-vaginal ultrasound! oh boy oh boy oh boy!

i'd been mentally preparing myself for a week. mostly just telling myself in the shower emily, it's gonna be okay. it's gonna be okay.


if you don't know what a trans-vaginal ultrasound is, i'm not going to tell you. now you have to keep reading to find out!

i'm so clever.

anyway.

i'm fretting at work this morning. i've been fretting for a week. when i leave work half an hour early and drive home to shower and become a presentable person (no showering before work. ever.) i'm freaking out. i need a full bladder so they can tell my bladder apart from my uterus.

because i guess that people can get confused.

so i'm chugging a grape-raspberry vitamin water zero because i don't like actual water. i only drink it when i exercise, or go out to eat, because it's free. you'll never catch me lounging with a glass of water. water has a taste, kids. and i don't like it.

i'm supposed to walk to the hospital. after all, it's literally like... a quarter mile from my house. i can see it from my bedroom window. but i'm too nervous, and now i'm full of vitamin water pee. so i drive over and it takes me about two minutes, tops. i walk in through the hospital entrance doors and i announce loudly and boldly that i'm emily, i have a pelvic exam at ten fifteen, and i'm ready.

i'm not. i'm not. not really.

i'm led to a waiting room where i commence to read about odd thomas and the love of his life eating churros in a parking lot. they're oddly proposing to one another (no pun intended) and odd can't figure out if stormy is saying yes. he's delighted to find out that she has, because they're abstinent and he can't wait much longer.

i know how odd feels. abstinence. it can suck.

so i'm reading about this and i'm just thinking about what my mother told me. she's away at church camp and can't hold my hand.

emily, they're going to stick a cold wand up there. it won't be that bad. it gets easier after having sex and having children because your tube widens.

thanks, mom. i've never had sex.

and i've certainly not given birth to a live, screaming baby.

i'm called back into a teeny receptionist area. i present my insurance card and my driver's license. the receptionist asks me if i have a living will.

good god.


i go back outside to reading about odd thomas. he makes me happy. i should invest in his other three books.

then this nice ultrasound tech named leah takes me away to the radiology wing of the hospital. normally i'm there for spinal x-rays. not to get wands shoved up my vagina.

so now i'm lying on my back on this bed and she's asking me how irregular and weird my periods are. then she squirts some hot ultrasound jelly on my stomach and starts pressing her magic ultrasound marker all over me. pressing hard.

my bladder is full.

i once held my pee for thirteen hours. i can handle this. i got this on lock.

i'm thinking about all kinds of things while she's playing pictures with my reproductive system. the first is juno, and how i'm very happy that there's not a baby on the screen. then i'm thinking about how i definitely know that i'm going to blog about this.

it's just one of those things you blog about.

when she's done, she gives me a towel and i try to mop up the goop with it, but i still get a little bit on my shorts. then she hands me a sheet, tells me to pee for as long as i can because my bladder is exceptionally full (two vitamin waters in fifteen minutes.) and she wants all of my pee out. then i can cover myself in this sheet and come back and it's time for the nasty part.

so i go into this teeny lit bathroom. and i sit down and pee. and on the pretext of trying to squeeze out alllll of my pee, i start pooping.

this is way more information than you want to know, but i'm not even to the trans-vaginal part of my story, so suck it up.

the only thing i'm thinking while i'm dropping turds into this toilet is olan rogers.

it is indeed a monday. and olan rogers is indeed talking about pooping. in a target bathroom.

so i finish my pooping. and i'm giggling because in my head olan rogers is going, "IF YOU JUST DO ME THIS SOLID, I WILL PRESENT YOU WITH MORE SOLID."

so i come back out with this sheet wrapped around me and i set my stuff by my purse and leah is telling me to lay back and put my feet up in these stirrups.

i'm becoming a woman.

then she pulls out the ultrasound wand and i want to run away.

this is honestly the first thing i think: if my husband's dick is ever that big, i swear to god i am never ever ever EVER having sex.

it was big.

leah explains to me that the ultrasound jelly is warm and it should be fine. it's barely going to be inserted, and for my own privacy, i get to insert it. just like a tampon.

the biggest tampon i've ever seen in my life.

literally, the thing is so big i have to ask if her if it's even in my vagina or not while i'm inserting it.

so she grabs the handle of this huge vagina wand and starts moving it around. she's not looking at my vagina, which makes me feel better, because my vagina is my vagina and not really her business. she's looking at the ultrasound screen, which i can't see, what with my legs all up in stirrups like i'm about to have a baby.

she tells me that my bladder is full.

and i'm like, excuse me, i just peed the clearest pee ever like, two minutes ago.

about three minutes into my vaginal probing, she hands me a towel and tells me that i have to pee again. i'll let you guess what i had to do with the towel.

so i'm peeing again. and during those two minutes that leah was probing in my vagina, my bladder has completely refilled itself. i took that whole "have a full bladder ready" requirement seriously.

it turns out that my little pee break is a blessing. i slid that vagina wand back into my vagina, leah grabs onto it, and then she's no longer just like, moving it around. it feels like she's probing.

"just a little pressure on the left side."

not much pressure.

"and some pressure on the right side."

not much pressure.

and then it feels like this magical vagina wand suddenly got a claw and it's sunk its teeth into the innards of my vagina and it's tugging at them. it stings. it burns.

my thoughts: i have a low pain tolerance. but i can tolerate this. i already got the wand in my vagina, i'll be fine. just grit your teeth and play with your ring. think about how you're going to blog about this. NO. SCREW THIS. THIS IS NOT SUPPOSED TO BURN.

me: um. this hurts a lot.

she switches the magic vagina wand's position. not much better.

i tolerate it for another two minutes. then i tell leah that i'm extremely uncomfortable. i don't tell her that i want my mother.

leah pulls out. we're done here. she hands me another towel. i retreat to the bathroom and feel violated.

on the way out, leah smiles at me and tells me to have a nice day. i walk out the main entrance and the security guard tells me the same thing. i walk to my car and turn it on. roll down the windows. drive home.

forty-five minutes. that was it.

when i get home, i don't know how my vagina is feeling. so i do the only sensible thing.

i eat some licorice. i pee again. because my bladder is still silently refilling itself.

then i take a well deserved nap.

then i ponder how my dad can poke me on facebook when he's at summer camp with my mom. did he secretly take his laptop?

after all this time, has my summer camp had wifi?

this is serious. very serious. if i'd had wifi at summer camp, i could've started my blogging career far before my sophomore year of college.

anyway.

how does one end a blog post about a trans-vaginal ultrasound?

by leaving you a handy chart for if you ever get married and releasing bubbles doesn't cut it for you.

please. someone release the kraken at my wedding. please.