"Goooin' to the Chapel and we're..."

I did not know what to expect coming in to Winona for Thanksgiving. I only expected good food, good times, and a mini EXTREME road trip to Lewiston. I did NOT expect to come back an engaged woman!

"Wait, what?! MJ, the homewrecker, ENGAGED?!"

You betcha! But what good is a wedding story without going back to the beginning? I mean, we're going waaay back.

The magic started on the autumn of 2004 when we met on this dating service. I think it started with a mutual friend. We found each other online. He was the Chief executive of some Latin-American country and I was a conversed a little and exchanged pictures of ourselves to each other. Needless to say, we found each other quite attractive. I remember the first time we met too. It was quite special. He brought three friends from his school and we ate at this great restaurant.

Fast forward another two years and other numerous rendezvous. Fortunately my parents were out of the country and my cousins do not eat turkey otherwise we would not meet again. The dating service and I packed up the service's stuff into my car and hightailed it for Winona. I guess it's some fee, much better than the $15 charge. Money is an object! It was a three-day process but it was well worth the wait. After sleeping 26 hours, endless plates of turkey and trimmings, slipping and sliding around the streets of Winona only to come up empty-handed in the elusive search for a Winona shot glass, and bonding with the dating service it was off to Gabby's for some good times. After all the Cotter alum reacquainted themselves with each other...

HE PROPOSED!!! And as any sane woman would, I accepted!

He makes me a happy ant!

I even have bridesmaids and a maid-of-honor! I got sick of seeing my friends blog about their wedding plans and offers they put on houses. I wanted to join in on the fun. So...you are cordially invited to OUR wedding on June 14 (weather permitting. Otherwise it's iOff.)

Emily this, Emily that, Emily OUT THE WINDOW!

Actually this is about deficiencies.

This week I've learned that people can be very intelligent yet have no common sense (i.e. me) or be very intelligent and lack certain basic skills (i.e. me) such as keeping your food in your mouth and eating like a human being. We'll begin with the latter.

Victim #1: The futon.

A certain person-let's call her Emma Lee-is quite an intelligent person. She gets good grades and is VERY studious...at least, that's what people think. Yet, there are some things that she just cannot do. In Emily's case, she cannot keep food in her mouth and eat like the rest of society. A simple task such as eating crackers, chips and salsa, and other foods that common people eat can turn into a disaster for Emma Lee. (Please click on the picture to experience the EXTREME extent of Emma Lee's wrongdoing!)

What would your area look like if YOU ate pizza? I bet your area would be neat and not this scene of debauchery. Imagine this dialogue: "Emma Lee! I just vacuumed!" -Me "Oopsies!" -Emma Lee
::Groan groan groan:: This picture is not do justice as an accurate depiction of Emily's full potential. This futon has also served as the ground on which to grow such grains and legumes as mentioned before as well as the means to many itchy naps.

Victim #2: My bed.
Though it may be motherly and a bit too precocious for the likes of someone like me, it did not deserve such oppression. Exhibit B:
The stupid whore didn't even try to do that. This is what happens every time she consumes food. Good JORB, Emma Lee. Good jorb. At least I get to practice my domestic skills.

Enough about Emma Lee and her deficiencies. Let's talk about mine. You may ask yourself, "How can someone as perfect as MJ have any deficiencies whatsoever? Well, as perfect as I seem, unfortunately I have a problem. I don't know how to drink coffee properly. Every day I go to class and try to make a good impression of myself as a serious student dependent on coffee. I seem to succeed except for the coffee stains on my shirt, jacket, purse, and books and notebooks. Yesterday was no exception. Coming back from one of my exams I decided to grab a cup of coffee. Somehow the coffee leaked out from the lid, burning my fingers, arms, and staining my sleeves. By the time I got home, the coffee had spread onto the books inside my bag, Emily's waterproof vest, and my shirt. Victim #3: Me.
This soldier of a shirt got away lucky. Many of my other shirts have been permanently scarred, sort of like Robert's pants. Oopsies.

So in conclusion, our apartment is full of oopsies. But not for long...eeeee. Emily....out the door! SEE YA!

She's gone Country!

Confession: My last entry said that I lived in Seattle before coming to Chicago. I regretfully admit that it is pure fiction. I....came from....Michigan. There. I said it. I don't feel much better though.

Well, now that I got that off my chest...Holy crap! I may have petrified my roommate. One would ask, "How the heck could you do that?"

It's simple. I place her in the front seat of a car, drive three hundred miles to Michigan, blast country music, and drive through the south side of Chicago and Gary, Indiana (I was even a bit shaken up myself. No sounds were made except for the lonely CD Emily made.) First stop: Some random gas station in Indiana. Now I know that last sentence is enough to give you the heebie jeebies but I must say more. We pulled up to the station and I send Emily out to get me breakfast while I filled up the gas tank. After a slight disagreement with the pump I go inside for further investigation. The clerk, to say the least, did not quite possess good communication skills. In other words, I could not understand a thing she was saying. After a few minutes of "What did you say?" "Huh?" and "So I can get gas now?" and a bunch of southern talk, I think, I went back, pumped gas, came back, and I got my card back. I had never run so fast from the cashier to the car and we were back on our way!

The drive consisted of lovely, repetitive views of the autumn trees plus some unidentifyable ones. It was also more quiet than usual as the roommate was more petrified than anything. I had never seen her so reserved. She kept to herself, sang songs in the car, and kept her hands under her legs out of sheer fright. EEEE.

We arrived in Cadillac after many moments of "Get me out of here!" and "What is wrong with you people?!" and tsking. After realizing that we won't exactly be rocking tonight for fear people (white trash) would not be able to handle our, uh...actions, we decided that the best way to spend our last November 4 together was to have an Arts and Crafts night in the house. Remember, it's a conservative town! They don't know much better! So our mission was to find iron-on letters for our Regimen Rong shirts (with some featured attention toward a certain lead singer,) find earrings for piercing, and maybe some food.

First we looked for the earrings. It sounds seemingly simple enough. (how about that alliteration?) If you thought so too you are Regimen RONG!!! The lady did not know what she was talking about and nor did my roommate, who got quite indecisive on the number and location of the piercings. We left. Strike one.

Second, we looked next door for the iron-on letters. When asked if they had the letters she said, "Oh yeah, they're over here." She seemingly sounded fairly intelligent. WRONG. She showed us a few different types of letters, articulately saying, "Yeah we have these or them ones. And them ones are purty big." Horrified and intimidated by the degree of her intelligence we had to get the hell out of that damn fabric store. Strike two.

Sadly, our night/weekend/lives were at the mercy of the extreme Super Wal-Mart. I know, it hurts much more to write this than reading it. Walking in was not reassuring. The first thing we saw was an extremely injured baby doll on a shopping cart to exemplify the proper way to restrain your child while shopping. I guess statistics have shown that the babies that have fallen from shopping carts have no futures. As it hurts me to say, the Wal-Mart has pulled through. We got the letters and the hearts. Home Run!!

Here's the catch. On the way out we saw two mullets (one was pronounced as rhyming with "fillet" and other was a full-blown MULLET.) One was on a future figure skater. I guess little girls still look up to Tonya Harding. I guess that means we got our home run robbed. We struck out.


What the hell are we doing here? Why are we back in the Boonies?! Get us out!