<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599</id><updated>2011-12-11T14:21:12.008-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Emily</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>49</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-8897372279650565150</id><published>2008-07-08T23:12:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-08-05T19:57:44.724-06:00</updated><title type='text'>politics and tish</title><content type='html'>Russ has recently felt the need to get me more interested in politics because he thinks that I am very poorly informed.  He gave me a book called "Treason" by Ann Coulter which I attempted to read on my lunch hour.  I got past the first two chapters and was thouroughly entertained and genuinely interested until I found funner things to do on my lunch hour, like shop online for things i will never buy.  I have super good intentions of finishing the book eventually, but i can only take it in small doses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://users.rcn.com/skutsch/anticoulter/treason.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 211px; height: 322px;" src="http://users.rcn.com/skutsch/anticoulter/treason.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also on my to-do list:  listen to AM talk radio.  I don't know how many times Russ has born his testimony of AM radio to me but I finally opened my heart and mind this past week.  I listen to 570 and 1430 AM and let me tell you that I have become a huge fan in the past two days.  Not only are some of these talk shows HILARIOUS but I am actually learning stuff that matters.  I have always hated being so poorly informed of political and economic issues but i've never cared enough to do anything about it.  I may, some day, be able to have an intelligent political conversation with someone.  Also, everyone should probably watch the movie "Hot Rod" because, not only is it one of my favorite movies of all time, but there is a hilarious plug for AM radio near the end. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://z.about.com/d/movies/1/0/T/f/P/hotrodposter.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 346px;" src="http://z.about.com/d/movies/1/0/T/f/P/hotrodposter.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-8897372279650565150?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/8897372279650565150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=8897372279650565150' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/8897372279650565150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/8897372279650565150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/07/politics-and-tish.html' title='politics and tish'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-8284365715470488252</id><published>2008-07-07T20:15:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-07-07T20:25:08.009-06:00</updated><title type='text'>UNO</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.zprod.org/stock/stockPix/e50Uno.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://www.zprod.org/stock/stockPix/e50Uno.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Russ and I played an INTENSE game of &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;U&lt;/span&gt;NO yesterday.  We played best out of five and I suggested that the loser give the winner a foot massage.  Well, Russ ended up killing me but, being the WONDERFUL fiance that he is, he gave ME a foot massage anyways.  What a sweet boy.  I am so lucky.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-8284365715470488252?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/8284365715470488252/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=8284365715470488252' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/8284365715470488252'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/8284365715470488252'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/07/uno.html' title='UNO'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-4376310537197296647</id><published>2008-07-06T10:59:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T00:11:57.236-07:00</updated><title type='text'>the fourth</title><content type='html'>i &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;love&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;love&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;love&lt;/span&gt; the fourth of July.  I love it because it means that all of the following will likely occur:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;breakfast at the park&lt;/span&gt;.  pancakes, sausage and eggs served by cute old members of the Riverdale Lion's club.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/SHD8rgxdnvI/AAAAAAAAAH4/6depo-1p2gg/s1600-h/IMG_0785.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/SHD8rgxdnvI/AAAAAAAAAH4/6depo-1p2gg/s320/IMG_0785.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219949792584376050" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;my cute fam at the park.  Russ wasn't allowed to be in the picture because he apparently didn't get the memo that the myers family celebrates holidays the right way - by wearing the correct colors.  Non festive color wearers are shunned.  (My sister almost had a stroke when her husband told her he was wearing black).  we gave russ a break this year since he's not technically part of the family yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;world's best parade&lt;/span&gt;. it consists mostly of local jr. high and high school students riding on expensive trucks shooting water guns at people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/SHD8ulCfmJI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/Ou3rdjZKHjo/s1600-h/IMG_0806.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/SHD8ulCfmJI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/Ou3rdjZKHjo/s320/IMG_0806.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219949845269158034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;my adorable little nephew, Carter, who must be going through a grumpy phase because i refuse to believe that he doesn't like being held by me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;During the parade we sat up on a hill for an ideal view of the parade.  this was not, however, the ideal location to catch candy as it was thrown by the hundreds into the crowd.  a parade isn't a parade without catching and eating some salt water taffy so, after about 15 minutes of me whining in my best and cutest whiny voice Russ made the trek down the hill to join the 7-year olds in their candy-catching endeavors and brought me back 2 tootsie rolls :(   He redeemed himself and saved the day by catching a frisbee which we then traded for 3 taffys with the little girl next to us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;Carnival at the park&lt;/span&gt;.  we make our rounds by the booths and possibly buy a snow cone, nothing more. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/SHD8rzUjtoI/AAAAAAAAAIA/CS2fSBluZBU/s1600-h/IMG_0775.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 243px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/SHD8rzUjtoI/AAAAAAAAAIA/CS2fSBluZBU/s320/IMG_0775.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219949797563414146" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. &lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 153);"&gt;Pool party/BBQ at my house&lt;/span&gt;. Fourth of July would never be the same without stuffing mysef silly with hamburgers and all manner of junky goodness. (then swimming off all of the calories)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/SHEBXDsEQ7I/AAAAAAAAAIg/zdekvUuyfKg/s1600-h/IMG_0817.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/SHEBXDsEQ7I/AAAAAAAAAIg/zdekvUuyfKg/s320/IMG_0817.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219954938737869746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/SHEBXWAnshI/AAAAAAAAAIo/dyqCcKfv1rc/s1600-h/IMG_0819.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/SHEBXWAnshI/AAAAAAAAAIo/dyqCcKfv1rc/s320/IMG_0819.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219954943655916050" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. &lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);"&gt;FIREWORKS&lt;/span&gt;! doesn't matter where, but the bigger the better. This year happened to be the best year ever for fireworks. and i'm just glad i'm still alive to tell about it.  We started things of by doing sparklers with Russ's nephew Ryan. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/SHEBXtUDAwI/AAAAAAAAAIw/58FRNtnTkJ0/s1600-h/IMG_0835.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/SHEBXtUDAwI/AAAAAAAAAIw/58FRNtnTkJ0/s320/IMG_0835.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219954949911413506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Then Russ's older brother and a whole slew of neighborhood friends showed up with approx $800 worth of illegal fireworks from Wyoming.  The show was pretty sweet until someone had the bright idea to let 14 year olds light fireworks.  Apparently they didn't understand that the firework had to go straight up into the air rather than toward houses and people (which they did).  One firework (the big ones you see at REAL firework shows) decided to go up in the air and then come back down and explode in the middle of the street.  We had quite the scare when one of the last ones, not even lit by a minor, darted through the neighbor's tree, bounced off their driveway and exploded on our front porch (which I was conveniently sitting in front of).  Not wanting to sport burn marks on my wedding day i promptly exited the firework show. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YAY for america!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-4376310537197296647?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/4376310537197296647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=4376310537197296647' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/4376310537197296647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/4376310537197296647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/07/fourth.html' title='the fourth'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/SHD8rgxdnvI/AAAAAAAAAH4/6depo-1p2gg/s72-c/IMG_0785.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-8540055332231164175</id><published>2008-07-03T22:04:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-07-03T22:37:52.379-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I not-so-secretly want to drain my bank account of every last penny and spend all of it on new clothes, shoes, purses and jewelry before I get married because then if i do so afterwards I will feel bad because it will be Russ's money too.  I am horrible.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-8540055332231164175?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/8540055332231164175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=8540055332231164175' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/8540055332231164175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/8540055332231164175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/07/i-not-so-secretly-want-to-drain-my-bank.html' title=''/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-4677820263453345326</id><published>2008-07-01T22:25:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-07-01T22:32:39.475-06:00</updated><title type='text'>countdown</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);font-size:180%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;only 11 days (!!) until:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 153, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;wedded bliss&lt;br /&gt;sandy beaches&lt;br /&gt;near-poverty&lt;br /&gt;possible homelessness&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-4677820263453345326?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/4677820263453345326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=4677820263453345326' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/4677820263453345326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/4677820263453345326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/07/countdown.html' title='countdown'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-4747532445944871544</id><published>2008-07-01T18:26:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-07-01T22:08:14.593-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Cookies and Porn</title><content type='html'>I don't look at porn!!  read on for details.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So today at work I was given the task to buy 20 cookies from McDonald's.  Sounds simple enough, right?  Wrong.  Things started out smoothly.  I did have to make a U-turn to get there but I made it to McDonald's safe and sound.  Waited in line.  Placed my order.  10 oatmeal cookies and 10 choc chip cookies.  to go please.  swiped my debit card...4 times.  NOT APPROVED .  Do you take checks?  nope.  Well, this is where things get interesting.  I remembered the time in my life (last night) when I was charged $70 on my credit card for something sketchy.  The charge to my card read only "introflux.com" and a 1-888 phone number.  Did I accidentally buy some crap online???  What the?  Of course I did the obvious thing which was to panic.  And then I went to the website to hopefully solve this mystery.  Instead I found a long list of uber-sketchy websites, a phone number (called, no answer), and a link to the "online help page."  Online help sounded pretty good to me so....CLICK!  and what did I find?  a membership to a PORN site.  again, I do not subscribe to porn.  I just don't do it.  its a waste of money.  I immediately called my bank and canceled my credit card.  Unfortunately they must have deactivated my debit card as well.  So, back to the cookie story.  I didn't have cash and I don't even know if I could use an ATM with my cards so I went to my bank which was clear on the other side of town.  at least I was on the clock right?  I get to the bank and although it was packed the girl in front of me felt the need to share her life story with the teller.  not cool.  I eventually got my turn and retrieved 50 bucks from my checking account.  Good to go.  I went back to McDonald's and it must have been a shift change because no one who had helped me before was there.  So I ask the cashier for 10 choc chip and 10 oatmeal cookies.  He tells me that I can only get 3 or 13 of each.  Right.  I didn't argue for times sake, just give me the cookies!  I paid and waited.  and waited.  the cashier who helped me started sweeping the floor.  two employees got into a heated argument about a cash register.  still, no cookies.  they must have made them from scratch for as long as I waited.  Finally I got the cookies and rushed back to work.  i would soon discover that, although i paid for 13 of each, they actually only gave me 10 of each.  So what was the 3 or 13 deal?  And to top it all off, on my second trip back to McDonalds i noticed that my bank was right across the street.   And now everyone things i like porn.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-4747532445944871544?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/4747532445944871544/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=4747532445944871544' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/4747532445944871544'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/4747532445944871544'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/07/cookies-and-porn.html' title='Cookies and Porn'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-4765165798739043401</id><published>2008-06-14T23:35:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-14T23:52:45.064-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Stuff I do and think</title><content type='html'>I recently tried to change my blog template/layout thingy and I totally screwed up my list of people's blogs!  I was not pleased about this. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, right now I am listening to ELISA and it is reminding me of the good times when I lived in Rome, Italy...and can I just say that I absolutely love love love this music, especially late at night when I am all alone blogging and I can crank it up super loud on my ipod.  love it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Question:  what is anyone's thoughts/feelings about fine china?  I've been given quite a bit of grief for not registering for it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today while Russ and I were sharing a salad at cafe rio we decided that it was time to instigate some rules about eating.  Well, I guess it was just one rule but I have a feeling more will follow.  First of all, when one person has to take a drink they can call a time out and the other person has to stop eating until the drinker has stopped drinking and has begun eating again.  I think my next rule will be that each eater must eat the same amount of crappy lettuce pieces (you know what I'm talking about...) so neither eater has to eat more than the other.  Who knew eating would ever become so complicated. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I went to one of my very best friend's, Mikkal, bridal shower in Salt Lake.  I love bridal showers.  I have never laughed so hard at the gifts someone has received.  I won't go into detail due to the nature of the gifts given but . . . my favorite was the foot long moustache.....???  I am still intrigued. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe that there is an unwritten rule in my family that a mother's or father's day present must include at least one item from deseret book.  I can't remember a time when this rule did not exist.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-4765165798739043401?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/4765165798739043401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=4765165798739043401' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/4765165798739043401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/4765165798739043401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/06/stuff-i-do-and-think.html' title='Stuff I do and think'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-2253806779106733356</id><published>2008-06-08T16:19:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-08T16:58:48.537-06:00</updated><title type='text'>weekend recap</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Friday&lt;/span&gt;:  Russ and I helped babysit his sister's 2 kids, Ryan and Sadie.  They are SO adorable and Russ was even more adorable when he played with him.  He is so good with kids.  I am positive he is going to be an amazing daddy to our 12 future children. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"&gt;Saturday&lt;/span&gt;:  We FINALLY picked out and ordered some invitations.  What an ordeal.  Why is paper so expensive these days?  And why do I have so many fonts to choose from?  So...this is how things typically go when it comes to decisions like this for the wedding.  I know for a fact that Russ has absolutely no opinion about what color the invitations should be or if they should be rectangle or square or trapezoid etc...but I still ask him just to be nice and to make him feel included.  He, as i previously stated, has not even a trace of an opinion but, to please me he fakes an opinion (or basically points at random colors or fonts etc.)  So basically we put on this big show for who knows why.  After choosing invites we stopped by to see two of my favorite people, Jessica and Reece.  It was good to catch up and receive some good marital advice (for some reason this involved talk of a cat and Jessica's lingerie).  I also became reaquainted with a book that I gave Jessica for her birthday last year called DELIBERATE ACTS OF NEEDLESS MEANNESS (buy it for $0.75 on half.com), which is full of purely rotten (and hilarious) things to do to other people.  I have to admit that I am a huge fan of "The simple life" with paris hilton and, although I loathe her as a human being, I think that she does some pretty funny (and terribly mean) things to other people and this book reminds me of her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Poor Russ then got roped into shopping with me for the next 5 hours, by the end of which he could barely walk...the male body simply wasn't created with enough endurance for such tasks.  We did take a break from shopping to eat dinner with the parentals.  His had never met mine, so we met up at Texas Roadhouse and soon discovered that Russ and I are most likely very distantly related.  Both of our old men are from small cities near Dodge City, Kansas, are of partial German heritage, and both have ancestors who are mormon-killers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-2253806779106733356?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/2253806779106733356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=2253806779106733356' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/2253806779106733356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/2253806779106733356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/06/weekend-recap.html' title='weekend recap'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-5400017901468441975</id><published>2008-06-05T23:06:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-05T23:18:18.224-06:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>I'm trying to think of a way to make my blog as entertaining as everyone else's.  My ideas so far:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  Steal Jessica's or Marissa's stories.  They are both talented writers and they get paid to have their ideas stolen, so why not?&lt;br /&gt;2.  Write about Russ instead of myself.  He is much more interesting and by that I mean that he does way more dumb stuff than I do so the stories would be more exciting. &lt;br /&gt;3.  I could start living each day as if I were someone else and then document my experience.  For example...tomorrow I will pretend to be Paris Hilton and I will blog about my interactions with other human beings.&lt;br /&gt;4.  Move to a third-world country;  daily beanerization = good writing material.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-5400017901468441975?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/5400017901468441975/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=5400017901468441975' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/5400017901468441975'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/5400017901468441975'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/06/im-trying-to-think-of-way-to-make-my.html' title=''/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-3908226508237857543</id><published>2008-06-02T18:44:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-05T23:42:15.601-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Skittles ruined my life</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.photosandiego.com/blog/archives/skittles.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.photosandiego.com/blog/archives/skittles.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today at work I somehow got into a heated argument with my coworker about skittles and whether or not each color has an individual flavor.  I was POSITIVELY ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN that each color of skittle has its own flavor and that, if I had a bag of skittles in front of me, I could blindfold myself and guess the correct color of each skittle placed in my mouth.  I KNEW for sure FOR SURE that these things were factual.  My coworker proceeded to tell me that he had had this very same argument with a number of people in the past and that he had done the blind taste test on at least 20 people and proven that, in fact, each color does NOT have its own flavor due to their incorrect responses.  To confirm his test results he had also called the customer service number on the back of the skittles bag and the representative told him that all skittles were in fact the same flavor.  However, a bag of original flavored skittles does have a different flavor from a bag of tropical skittles.  Tropical skittles, though, are all the same tropical flavor regardless of the color.  Even after hearing all of these facts I was adamant that I, having been born with superior taste buds (i've been claiming this for some time), would be able to distinguish the flavors of different colors.  Fortunately, my coworker just happened to have a bag of skittles in his candy stash in the corner.  Eager to prove him wrong I immediately closed my eyes and began the test.  Much to my surprise, I utterly and totally failed.  I SWEAR that one tasted like grape!!!!!  Not even ONE of my guesses was correct.  NOT EVEN ONE!!!!  I was baffled to say the least.  My life would never be the same.  My belief in the candy industry plummeted and is now at an all-time low.  How could I have been so deceived?  For any of you out there who believe, as I once did, that you too have superior taste buds and could most &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;definately&lt;/span&gt; pass the blind taste test, I dare you to try it.  You will be sorely disappointed.  Don't let it ruin your life like it has mine.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-3908226508237857543?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/3908226508237857543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=3908226508237857543' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/3908226508237857543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/3908226508237857543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/06/skittles-ruined-my-life.html' title='Skittles ruined my life'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-8477180631379288025</id><published>2008-06-01T02:20:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-02T21:49:25.812-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Neglect.  And possibly the longest blog post you have ever encountered.</title><content type='html'>It's been almost a month since I last updated my blog so I'm going to attempt to make up for my neglect with the following updates.  Here's what has been happening in my neck of the woods in the last 4 weeks:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May 9th:  Removal of wisdom teeth.&lt;br /&gt;I decided to take advantage of my parents' insurance while I still can and get rid of those little buggers before I am married and poor and insurance-less.  I still can't believe that they can cut holes in my flesh, pull all four teeth out, sew my mouth back up, and shove some gauze in my wounds in less than 30 minutes.  I was completely and utterly useless for the next 24 hours and my wonderful mother nursed me back to health.  I seriously underestimated the magnitude of pain that I was to experience after the surgery.  I've had several people tell me that their wisdom-teeth-removal experience was a breeze...that they had no swelling...minimal pain.........what gives?  Maybe my pain tolerance level is at a record-breaking low right now.  The pain wasn't the cause of a whole lot of concern.....but I did begin to worry when the left side of my face was STILL numb a week after the surgery.  I finally called the doctor and she assured me that it was normal.  Still, i worried.  My engagement pictures were in 5 days.  Don't worry, the numbness SLOWLY removed itself from my face.  Not enough for me to be satisfied by the time my engagement pictures rolled around though.  I feel like fat (numb) face mcgee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May 22:  Engagement pictures&lt;br /&gt;I am such a complainer when it comes to pictures of myself.  I absolutely do not think that I'm photogenic and I hate hate hate my profile in pictures.  Also - hatred abounds for my serious face.  I look mean/mad/not pretty.  I had a great photographer though, she got some really good shots of us and they actually turned out really well.  Here are some of my favorites:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wedding Plans&lt;br /&gt;Planning my own wedding is so not as fun as i thought it would be.  Stressful, Confusing, Aggravating, ....planning my wedding is all of these and only a tiny bit fun.  Most of the stress comes from the fact that I am on a budget and that I am a brat and I just want to have what I WANT.  Seriously, I am such a brat.  My first thought after discussing budgets with my parents is "its my wedding for crying out loud!  just give me what I want!"  I hate money.  its ruining my life.  Since I have been nothing but a Debbie-Downer so far in this blog-post I will now change my attitude and write only happy, uplifting comments.  Here are things that I have planned so far:&lt;br /&gt;colors - pink and orange.  not hot pink.  dark pink, light pink, tangerine....all these are good.&lt;br /&gt;flowers - I'm so over gerbera daisies.  and roses.  I'm doing ranunculuses (plural??), carnations, dahlias, peonies, ....can't remember what else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://californiaorganicflowers.com/uploads/bouqRanunculusMix_300px.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 255px; height: 255px;" src="https://californiaorganicflowers.com/uploads/bouqRanunculusMix_300px.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.flowersociety.com/images/flowers/carnations.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 229px; height: 172px;" src="http://www.flowersociety.com/images/flowers/carnations.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.dannyburk.com/images/peony.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 270px; height: 205px;" src="http://www.dannyburk.com/images/peony.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.mooseyscountrygarden.com/middle-garden/orange-dahlia-flower.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 158px;" src="http://www.mooseyscountrygarden.com/middle-garden/orange-dahlia-flower.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;cake - so far the only plan is to have chocolate.&lt;br /&gt;dress - bought it.  its getting hemmed.&lt;br /&gt;invitations - I have spent hours and hours trying to create my own, find cheap ones online or in stores, attempting to spend as little as possible but not look cheesy.  I have almost completely given up.  I don't even want to think about invitations.  Emails anyone?&lt;br /&gt;reception - my mom's friend's back yard.  I mostly chose it because it is almost completely 100% shady (as in protected from sunlight....not sketchy).&lt;br /&gt;honeymoon - riviera maya, mexico.  priceline.com.  el dorado royale adults only all inclusive spa resort.  sounds like heaven to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.eldoradosparesorts.com/images/gallery/royale/big/overviews/h_doradoroyale_overviews_01.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.eldoradosparesorts.com/images/gallery/royale/big/overviews/h_doradoroyale_overviews_01.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.eldoradosparesorts.com/images/gallery/royale/big/overviews/h_doradoroyale_overviews_24.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.eldoradosparesorts.com/images/gallery/royale/big/overviews/h_doradoroyale_overviews_24.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;May 17th:  Baby Carter's first birthday party!&lt;br /&gt;My adorable little nephew turned 1!  We all went up to Logan to celebrate...I bought him the cutest present ever.  it is a backpack/leash....  he wears the backpack that looks like a stuffed monkey (so cute!) and the tail of the monkey turns into a leash for his mommy or daddy.  The monkey even has a pocket on its back to hold a bottle.  i can't wait to see this thing in action.   After playing with baby and his toys Russ and I somehow got roped into playing with my sister's husband's best friend's four kids (they are babysitting while their parents are out of town).  These kids are incredibly adorable so I didn't really mind being roped into playing princess and dragon or whatever... it was just a little bit exhausting!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May 26:  Memorial Day&lt;br /&gt;I memorialized and mourned the loss of my ancestors by placing flowers on their graves at the Logan cemetary.  I actually didn't even get out of the car because it was pouring rain.  Afterwards my family and I and Russ went to my sister's husbands parents house in Logan for a BBQ.  Bevin's dad made buffalo burgars and this guy doesn't mess around...those burgers were enormous.  i almost needed two buns to cover one burger.  I played with my baby a little....mostly we just sat around and ate and ate and ate.  Then we played battle of the sexes, which almost always proves to be a mistake.  My family always ends up getting into the same arguments before we can even finish the game.  The male questions are too easy....we, the females, are always too vague in our answers...etc.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May 30:  Ironman at the Motor-Vu drive-in in Riverdale.&lt;br /&gt;The drive-in is so underrated.  Sure its customers are 99% white trash but I can overlook that insignificant detail when I am required to pay only $6 for a double-feature AND.......BONUS!  For no extra charge I can be eaten alive by mosquitos.  Equipped with enough snacks to feed EVERYONE at the drive-in (7 boxes of crackers, fruit snacks, licorice, diet coke, mountain dew), Russ and I and Russ's brother and sister hopped in my mom's mini-van and headed to see Ironman in all its glory.  Its been two years since my last drive-in movie and I forget how silly people can be.  Directly in front of us a mother and father decided that it was safe and definately not inconsiderate to other movie-watchers behind them to allow their two little girls to sit on top of the cab of their truck to watch the movie.  Not only were they blocking our view of half the screen but they couldn't make up their mind about which position on the top of the truck was the most comfortable.   this must have been their thought process..... "should i put my feet up and my head down....no, i'll put my feet over here and move my head around every 3 minutes so it doesn't stay in the same place for too long.  Oh wow, i'm sick of this position....i think i'll spend the next 10 minutes repositioning myself and using my pillows and blankets as flags to let my parents know that I'm okay."  I usually don't confront people about things like this but someone had to do it...so I kindly asked the parents if they could ask their daughters to lie down and stay put for the rest of the movie.  The girls were able to do this for only 5 minutes after which they again began the above thought processes.  Fortunately their parents were kind enough to make them move down to the truck bed.   Disaster averted.  UNfortunately I fell asleep during the last half hour of the movie.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-8477180631379288025?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/8477180631379288025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=8477180631379288025' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/8477180631379288025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/8477180631379288025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/06/neglect-and-possibly-longest-blog-post.html' title='Neglect.  And possibly the longest blog post you have ever encountered.'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-4925500771834386808</id><published>2008-06-01T02:05:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-06-02T21:28:07.147-06:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm it.  thanks to Jessica.</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;How To Play This Game of Tag:&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Post these rules on your blog.&lt;br /&gt;Answer these 15 questions about yourself on your blog.&lt;br /&gt;List: 3 joys, 3 fears, 3 goals, 3 current obsessions/collections, 3 random surprising facts.&lt;br /&gt;Tag 5 people at the end of your post by leaving their names.&lt;br /&gt;Let them know they are tagged by leaving a comment on their blog. Here it is...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;JOYS:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;01. Pumping iron at gold's gym.  thank you endorphins.&lt;br /&gt;02. Head scratches.&lt;br /&gt;03. Motorcycle rides&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;FEARS:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;01. Getting into my car late at night and discovering that someone is in the back seat waiting to murder me.&lt;br /&gt;02. Having ugly children.&lt;br /&gt;03. Getting caught up in worldly things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;GOALS:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;01. Become an expert rock climber.&lt;br /&gt;02. Bear 10 perfect children.&lt;br /&gt;03. Live for more than 4 months outside the state of Utah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;CURRENT OBSESSIONS/COLLECTIONS:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;01. My sweet, wonderful, adorable fiance.  Sometimes when I can't stop thinking about how sweet and wonderful and adorable he is I lean over and whisper in his ear that I am obsessed with him.  Sorry to be so gross.&lt;br /&gt;02. Shopping online.&lt;br /&gt;03. The color pink.  I swear this has no connection to aerosmith.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;em&gt;RANDOM SURPRISING FACTS:&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;01. I actually like sushi.  It was a surprise to me.&lt;br /&gt;02. I diagnosed myself (with the help of WebMD) with costochondritis.&lt;br /&gt;03. I can say the ABC's backwards.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tag Sara, Katie and Passely&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-4925500771834386808?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/4925500771834386808/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=4925500771834386808' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/4925500771834386808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/4925500771834386808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/06/im-it-thanks-to-jessica.html' title='I&apos;m it.  thanks to Jessica.'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-7707442356737536642</id><published>2008-05-04T13:02:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-05-04T13:17:19.381-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Cookies</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.troyers.com/images/Lofthouse.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 205px; height: 151px;" src="http://www.troyers.com/images/Lofthouse.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;I am currently employed as an intern in the research and development department of Ralcorp Bakery Products AKA Lofthouse cookies.  BEST JOB EVER.  I get paid to bake cookies all day.  And by that I mean ALL DAY LONG.  I bake them, eat them, make sure they taste good, and then its on to the next formula (we don't call them recipes because 'formula' sounds more scientific).  Sometimes I get to experiment and come up with some crazy-flavored cookies.  Our kitchen is a bakers paradise.  Rows and rows and stacks and cupboards and shelves full of every kind of flavoring imaginable, food colors, sprinkles in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;a rainbow of colors, types of sugar i've never even heard of, every shape and size of chocolate chip.  The possibilities are endless  .Its basically my dream come true.   The best part?  I get PAID to do all of this.  And I never go hungry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:zRw7uCiBJx74OM:http://www.lofthousecookies.com/images/aboutus/rightImage.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 163px; height: 174px;" src="http://tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:zRw7uCiBJx74OM:http://www.lofthousecookies.com/images/aboutus/rightImage.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-7707442356737536642?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/7707442356737536642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=7707442356737536642' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/7707442356737536642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/7707442356737536642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/05/cookies.html' title='Cookies'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-6147458352003300865</id><published>2008-04-20T17:42:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T00:11:58.553-07:00</updated><title type='text'>leggings + church = makes me mad</title><content type='html'>Whoever said it was okay to wear leggings and mid-thigh length "dresses" to church?  These people annoy me.  If you're going to wear leggings, fine.  I own a pair myself.  I am not opposed to wearing leggings.  But could someone please tell me why some girls find it appropriate to wear them to church?  Could we get an official statement from the brethren or something?  They did it for flip-flops.  I have a feeling leggings will be next. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/SAvWlguT04I/AAAAAAAAAHE/p86WMlWIRNE/s1600-h/hilary.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/SAvWlguT04I/AAAAAAAAAHE/p86WMlWIRNE/s320/hilary.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191478935402304386" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oops!   Hillary Duff forgot her scriptures!  Oh wait, no she didn't...because she's not going to church.  Even hilary knows that she's inappropriately dressed to be in the Lord's house.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-6147458352003300865?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/6147458352003300865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=6147458352003300865' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/6147458352003300865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/6147458352003300865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/04/leggings-church-makes-me-mad.html' title='leggings + church = makes me mad'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/SAvWlguT04I/AAAAAAAAAHE/p86WMlWIRNE/s72-c/hilary.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-7402279101296858943</id><published>2008-04-20T16:48:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T00:11:59.298-07:00</updated><title type='text'>FINALLY!</title><content type='html'>Poor Russ.  I can't believe he still wanted to propose to me after all of my whining on Friday night.  I must have been hormonally-challenged at the time, and combined with the stress of both finals week and of dealing with my dirt-bag landlords it just wasn't a pretty sight.  I complained for about an hour friday night about how mean he was for making me wait so long to be engaged.  I told him that every day I would get my hopes up and by the end of each night all of my hopes and dreams were shattered and that I would cry myself to sleep.   It wasn't a pleasant way to live.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;According to what Russ told me last night he wasn't going to propose until next wednesday but after experiencing the magnitude of whining that occured  he had a change of heart.  Saturday after i was done taking a final he told me we were going on a picnic.  It is necessary at this point for me to provide some background:  when Russ and i first met I made a list of 4 things I wanted him to do for me and I made him sign it.  Although he was supposed to accomplish the four tasks before August of last year I will still give him credit.  The four items on the list are:  1.  take me on two motorcycle rides (this may be considered our first date) 2.  teach me how to play the bass guitar until I am basically a professional (he did attempt to teach me once but let's just say I'm not cut out for certain things)  3.  Cook me an authentic Filipino meal (he served his mission in the Philippines) and 4.  go canoeing with me (I used to draw pictures of canoes and give them to him at work.  i reminded him daily)  I kept this list in my wallet and until saturday tasks 3 and 4 had not yet been completed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, back to the story. . . we went on our "picnic"  which involved sharing Filipino-style Top Ramen (seriously) from a tupperware container while sitting on the grass/dirt near Utah Lake while small dust particles blew into my eyeballs (did anyone notice the 75mph winds that occured yesterday?).  After taking about 2 bites he told me he had a surprise and I immediately asked if it was a cookie.  Unfortunately, it wasn't.  After waiting for me to finish the rest of the food he told me that the surprise was the canoe conveniently sitting on the beach next to us (how did I not notice this?).  I squealed with delight until I remembered the abundance of violent winds that were causing dangerous waves in the lake.  I tried to be brave as we were tossed to and fro upon the waters but let's just say that it might have been a sequel to the bout of whining from the night before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/SAvbGQuT08I/AAAAAAAAAHk/WqSSMj2Cfh4/s1600-h/IMG_0605.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/SAvbGQuT08I/AAAAAAAAAHk/WqSSMj2Cfh4/s320/IMG_0605.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191483896089531330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Russ continually assured me that it was going to be okay, even as we were inches from crashing into the rocks.  ITS NOT OKAY i yelled at him and begged to go back to shore.  During our short time on the water Russ told me some really mushy lovey-dovey stuff that I will not repeat at this time.  He then told me that he had (finally) completed the four things that I asked him to do and that he would only ask me to do one thing..................... which was accept the pretty flowers that he pulled out of his backpack.  Up to this point I had been about 99 percent sure he was going to propose.  But after the flower trick I was almost certain that he was just trying to get back at me for all the whining the night before.  I was almost ready to push him out of the canoe and head for shore but I had mercy on him and instead I suggested we carefully row our way back to shore.  I was incredibly relieved to be back on solid ground.  I wanted to go sit beneath the shade of the willow tree next to the lake (it wasn't really a willow tree and it didn't provide a bit of shade, but it sounded nice).  Instead Russ took me behind a small shack next to the shore (to avoid the wind or to keep his friends (whom i will later learn were parked just feet away) from seeing us i do not know).  He told me that he lied about asking me to do just one thing.  I pulled a "ha really" on him (a classic for those of you who are familiar with the ha and the really, namely Jeff and Passelly) and then he proposed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We finished off the night by eating at our favorite restaurant - Carrabas - and going to a Kalai concert with Jeff and Passelly who were the aforementioned friends sitting feet away from the proposal.  I wanted to get more pictures of us at the Lake but I was too worried about falling in the water that I forgot.  Russ did get one of me during one of my many whinings, though.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/SAvbGQuT09I/AAAAAAAAAHs/GTqsSUnI20c/s1600-h/IMG_0606.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/SAvbGQuT09I/AAAAAAAAAHs/GTqsSUnI20c/s320/IMG_0606.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191483896089531346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/SAvbGAuT06I/AAAAAAAAAHU/yhHehYvyR6c/s1600-h/kalai01.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 125px; height: 115px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/SAvbGAuT06I/AAAAAAAAAHU/yhHehYvyR6c/s320/kalai01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191483891794564002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/SAvbGAuT07I/AAAAAAAAAHc/mjPudSeBMSI/s1600-h/IMG_0609.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/SAvbGAuT07I/AAAAAAAAAHc/mjPudSeBMSI/s320/IMG_0609.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191483891794564018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To anyone who may read this (which can't be very many since I know of only 3 people who read my blog) I apologize for the length and any boredom you may have experienced.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-7402279101296858943?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/7402279101296858943/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=7402279101296858943' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/7402279101296858943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/7402279101296858943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/04/finally.html' title='FINALLY!'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/SAvbGQuT08I/AAAAAAAAAHk/WqSSMj2Cfh4/s72-c/IMG_0605.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-6750637512463158166</id><published>2008-04-17T10:51:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-04-17T10:57:19.411-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Police Beat Update</title><content type='html'>My top five for the week:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  A student called BYU Police when she saw a creepy looking person smoking by the Administration Building. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  Someone stole 1,000 square feet of sod from west of Helaman Halls.  Police have no suspects.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  A resident of May Hall was caught lighting toilet paper on fire in the men's restroom.  Police are questioning him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  BYU police responded when they heard an explosion near a Helaman Halls dorm.  Upon further investigation they discovered the remanants of an Axe body deodorant spray can.  They have no suspects. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.....and the WINNER....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  The father of a student called BYU police when he had not heard from his daughter for four days.  BYU police called the student and told her to call her father.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-6750637512463158166?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/6750637512463158166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=6750637512463158166' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/6750637512463158166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/6750637512463158166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/04/police-beat-update.html' title='Police Beat Update'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-3046131854017514648</id><published>2008-04-14T13:21:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T00:11:59.661-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Neeewwwww Car!  Again.</title><content type='html'>Big Red decided to malfunction this week  so I was desperate to find a new car ASAP.  Thanks to craigslist (how did anyone ever live without it?) I was able to find the car I wanted and within hours I was the new owner of the car.  This thing gets amazing gas mileage - twice as good as big red.  The only catch was that it's a manual....needless to say I spent the day learning how to drive it.  Who knew stalling a car could be so fun?&lt;br /&gt; &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/SAOvrEfk7cI/AAAAAAAAAGM/Kxzs4rfpGoU/s1600-h/IMG_0597.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/SAOvrEfk7cI/AAAAAAAAAGM/Kxzs4rfpGoU/s320/IMG_0597.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189184350136364482" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-3046131854017514648?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/3046131854017514648/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=3046131854017514648' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/3046131854017514648'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/3046131854017514648'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/04/neeewwwww-car-again.html' title='A Neeewwwww Car!  Again.'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/SAOvrEfk7cI/AAAAAAAAAGM/Kxzs4rfpGoU/s72-c/IMG_0597.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-318614935116049227</id><published>2008-04-13T19:40:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T00:12:00.074-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bugs and Bikes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/SAOyMkfk7fI/AAAAAAAAAGk/GROBHA31UA4/s1600-h/IMG_0562.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/SAOyMkfk7fI/AAAAAAAAAGk/GROBHA31UA4/s320/IMG_0562.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189187124685237746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/SAOyNEfk7gI/AAAAAAAAAGs/nG6wlzypYuk/s1600-h/IMG_0582.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/SAOyNEfk7gI/AAAAAAAAAGs/nG6wlzypYuk/s320/IMG_0582.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189187133275172354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today warmth abounded so Russ and I decided to go on a bike ride up to the Y parking lot and to Utah Lake.  Having never been there before I was desirous to see if this place is all its cracked up to be.  Warmth wasn't the only thing that abounded today...Bugs were out and about in full force by the lake.  NOT a good thing when you are going over 5 mph on a motorcycle.  I succeeded in dodging most of them but one little guy happened to lodge himself in my eyeball and I had to skillfully pry him out when I got home.  I was thoroughly  pleased, however, that not a single bug entered my mouth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made Russ pose for this one and he was embarassed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/SAOyLUfk7dI/AAAAAAAAAGU/CNEhBj3EefY/s1600-h/IMG_0577.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/SAOyLUfk7dI/AAAAAAAAAGU/CNEhBj3EefY/s320/IMG_0577.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189187103210401234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-318614935116049227?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/318614935116049227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=318614935116049227' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/318614935116049227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/318614935116049227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/04/bugs-and-bikes.html' title='Bugs and Bikes'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/SAOyMkfk7fI/AAAAAAAAAGk/GROBHA31UA4/s72-c/IMG_0562.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-2806695792931043361</id><published>2008-04-13T18:05:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-04-13T18:15:20.818-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Certainly</title><content type='html'>I was quite irreverent at church today due to a high counselor who is obsessed with the word 'certainly'.  About two weeks ago he spoke in our ward and after a few short minutes we began to notice the trend.  Certaihly we began to tally the number of times he said it during his talk.  Today he got up to make an anouncement for the stake and spoke for a max of 2 minutes.  During this time we counted 16 'certainly's.  That's 8 cpm (certainly's per minute) and one certainly every 7.5 seconds.  Needless to say my roommate and I had the giggles until prayer time...this guy is out of control.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-2806695792931043361?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/2806695792931043361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=2806695792931043361' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/2806695792931043361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/2806695792931043361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/04/certainly.html' title='Certainly'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-450771884451839866</id><published>2008-04-09T02:01:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-04-09T02:12:27.505-06:00</updated><title type='text'>help me find a swimsuit</title><content type='html'>i hate shopping for swimsuits more than almost anything.  please help me.  which one do you like best?  Please vote now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Modbe: $72&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://charmain.mymodbe.com/images/2430/Products/SEA-FOAM-605L.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 267px; height: 368px;" src="https://charmain.mymodbe.com/images/2430/Products/SEA-FOAM-605L.JPG" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Old Navy:  $19.50&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.oldnavy.com/Asset_Archive/ONWeb/Assets/Product/527/527188/quick/on527188-06qlv01.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 287px; height: 384px;" src="http://www.oldnavy.com/Asset_Archive/ONWeb/Assets/Product/527/527188/quick/on527188-06qlv01.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Target: 17.99&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51jJjodFhXL._AA262_.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 291px; height: 291px;" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51jJjodFhXL._AA262_.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Target:  $17.99&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/415EvufmxIL._SS260_.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/415EvufmxIL._SS260_.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Old Navy:  $26.50&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.oldnavy.com/Asset_Archive/ONWeb/Assets/Product/527/527186/main/on527186-00p01v01.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 264px; height: 351px;" src="http://www.oldnavy.com/Asset_Archive/ONWeb/Assets/Product/527/527186/main/on527186-00p01v01.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.oldnavy.com/Asset_Archive/ONWeb/Assets/Product/527/527185/main/on527185-25p01v01.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 243px; height: 323px;" src="http://www.oldnavy.com/Asset_Archive/ONWeb/Assets/Product/527/527185/main/on527185-25p01v01.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-450771884451839866?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/450771884451839866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=450771884451839866' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/450771884451839866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/450771884451839866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/04/help-me-find-swimsuit.html' title='help me find a swimsuit'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-4043444865505000658</id><published>2008-04-09T00:44:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-04-09T00:55:33.473-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes life just sucks</title><content type='html'>Things that I feel quite valid complaining about:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I have to PAY 363.00 in taxes.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My car officially began it descent into utter worthlessness today:  the transmission is malfunctioning and won't shift into 2nd or 3rd gear which basically means that i can't exceed 25 mph.  transmissions cost mucho money to replace :(  Also, this happened the exact same day that I paid $100 for emissions/inspections and registration.  &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;My computer is broken and according to the Apple store it costs $800 to repair.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I must sell my rental contract  for summer or i will owe more than $1000 to my landlord for not living here.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I paid $30 for only 7 gallons of gas today.  SICK.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I probably owe someone a lot of money but forgot about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;I hate money.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:JNBUqE1loLqcpM:http://www.cashto.net/images/money.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 218px; height: 218px;" src="http://tbn0.google.com/images?q=tbn:JNBUqE1loLqcpM:http://www.cashto.net/images/money.gif" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-4043444865505000658?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/4043444865505000658/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=4043444865505000658' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/4043444865505000658'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/4043444865505000658'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/04/sometimes-life-just-sucks.html' title='Sometimes life just sucks'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-7416641314437024168</id><published>2008-04-08T17:27:00.005-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T00:12:00.719-07:00</updated><title type='text'>If you love me, spoon me</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: georgia;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);"&gt;I will now write about the tastebud-tickling experience that occured last night and which Jessica and I were inspired to blog about. So I met up with Jessica for dinner in SLC and we devoured our meals from Atlantic. Jessica devoured...I actually enjoyed my meal. Seriously-I think the chicken shiskebab went straight from her fork to her stomach. Unchewed. I must have spent the whole time talking because by the time she finished her food I had only finished about 13% of mine. After dinner we decided that the night wouldn't be complete without some form of ice cream treat. We stopped at the first place that caught our eye: "Spoon Me." The results were indescribable. I, having been born with superior taste buds, can tell you that the tasty frozen yogurt topped with healthy and fruity treats was truly refreshing and exceeded my expectations. Again, Jessica devoured her treat. I throroughly enjoyed mine as well... the place was a hit. I recommend it to all whose hearts delight in pure goodness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R_wLjuqPDCI/AAAAAAAAAFs/MwZxh2wDqHo/s1600-h/IMG_0541.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R_wLjuqPDCI/AAAAAAAAAFs/MwZxh2wDqHo/s320/IMG_0541.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187033579272473634" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R_wLj-qPDDI/AAAAAAAAAF0/2O0y-dXXYjA/s1600-h/IMG_0542.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R_wLj-qPDDI/AAAAAAAAAF0/2O0y-dXXYjA/s320/IMG_0542.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187033583567440946" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R_wLj-qPDEI/AAAAAAAAAF8/mKU0IiKprYY/s1600-h/IMG_0543.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R_wLj-qPDEI/AAAAAAAAAF8/mKU0IiKprYY/s320/IMG_0543.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187033583567440962" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R_wLkOqPDFI/AAAAAAAAAGE/HhPzleYk3IA/s1600-h/IMG_0544.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R_wLkOqPDFI/AAAAAAAAAGE/HhPzleYk3IA/s320/IMG_0544.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187033587862408274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-7416641314437024168?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/7416641314437024168/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=7416641314437024168' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/7416641314437024168'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/7416641314437024168'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/04/if-you-love-me-spoon-me.html' title='If you love me, spoon me'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R_wLjuqPDCI/AAAAAAAAAFs/MwZxh2wDqHo/s72-c/IMG_0541.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-8279656983873441358</id><published>2008-04-02T14:49:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-04-02T15:20:23.547-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Really Random Thoughts of the Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;I got new pink moccasins from Target and they make me feel like a fashionable indian.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/419cE3Qvp%2BL._AA262_.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 241px; height: 241px;" src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/419cE3Qvp%2BL._AA262_.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Every time i go to the grocery store i have to eat one of those small cheese snacks (not string cheese).&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Sometimes if a phrase gets stuck in my head i find myself typing it out with my fingers over and over...&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am addicted to:  food network, diet pepsi, jessica's blog&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;The police beat from today was outrageous:  mom drops charges  to daughters roommate for stealing butter knife.  woman sees suspicious man in car and decides to investigate:  oops! he's not wearing pants.  students receive strong verbal warning after shining mirrors in people's eyes. &lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I learned how to edit movies using imovie today&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;No matter how tired i am i just CAN'T take naps.  i just lay there and never fall asleep.  it bugs.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Denzel Washington is one of my favorite black men.  But his latest movie made me fall asleep.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I am really into birds right now&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images.artropolis.com/patina/thumbs/074004.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 248px; height: 186px;" src="http://images.artropolis.com/patina/thumbs/074004.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Russ's hair is really long and its buggin me.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;I figured out that if i don't comb my hair when i get out of the shower and then let it air dry it is kind of pretty and wavy.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: left;"&gt;Things I want:&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: center;"&gt;Cheese knives&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images.artropolis.com/patina/thumbs/066532.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 253px; height: 191px;" src="http://images.artropolis.com/patina/thumbs/066532.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li style="text-align: center;"&gt;Monkey peeler&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images.artropolis.com/patina/thumbs/060688.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 252px; height: 189px;" src="http://images.artropolis.com/patina/thumbs/060688.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;Things i am grateful for:&lt;/li&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;friends in my classes who basically do my homework for me.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;a boyfriend who can fix cars...mine has major issues&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;free nachos on campus today&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-8279656983873441358?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/8279656983873441358/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=8279656983873441358' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/8279656983873441358'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/8279656983873441358'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/04/really-random-thoughts-of-day.html' title='Really Random Thoughts of the Day'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-2274852211776623190</id><published>2008-03-25T18:33:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-25T18:46:23.227-06:00</updated><title type='text'>oh my word i've been tagged and i'm only doing this because i am bored out of my mind and because i love my sister who tagged me.</title><content type='html'>also...i am not married so i can't answer all of these.  yet........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; min-height: 14px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"&gt;How long have you been together?  8 months&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; min-height: 14px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"&gt;How long did you date? hopefully longer than 8 months&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; min-height: 14px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"&gt;How old is he? 24&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; min-height: 14px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"&gt;Who eats more?  depends on the day.  my favorite thing to do is finish off his food when he isn't looking...one time i fit a whole taco in my mouth. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"&gt;Who said "I love you" first? I did!  I knew he felt the same way and that he was just too shy to say it.  so i took the matter into my own hands&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"&gt;Who is taller? he is by a few inches...if i wear heels i'm about as tall&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"&gt;Who is smarter? i am book-smart and he is other-stuff-smart.  he doesn't like school AT ALL.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; min-height: 14px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"&gt;Who does the laundry?  we do our own. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"&gt;Who does the dishes?  I usually cook and he does the dishes.  and sometimes he cooks and still does the dishes.  so sweet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; min-height: 14px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"&gt;Who sleeps on the right side of the bed?  i call dibs on the right side as soon as i get married.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; min-height: 14px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"&gt;Who pays the bills?  he has way more bills than me...we both pay our own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; min-height: 14px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"&gt;Who mows the lawn?  i don't know how.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; min-height: 14px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"&gt;Who cooks dinner?  russ can cook frozen pizza and fettucine alfredo.  i cook anything else.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"&gt;Who is more stubborn? ME!  so stubborn. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; min-height: 14px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"&gt;Who kissed who first? well, i kissed his ear and apparently that was the sign that it was okay to kiss me, so i guess he did?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; min-height: 14px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"&gt;Who asked who out?  He was super shy so i asked him to take me on a motorcycle ride...i guess that was our first date.  it was so funny because he had just barely gotten his bike and was learning how to ride it and as we were turning a corner i grabbed his pecs just because and it caught him by surprise and we almost fell off the bike....it literally tipped over and we had to pull it back up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; min-height: 14px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"&gt;Who proposed? He had better propose to me because I'm not doing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"&gt;Who is more sensitive? Me.  By a lot &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"&gt;Who has more friends?  We are both about the same.  Most of his friends are friends from back home from high school and tish... most of my friends are the ones i've met while going to BYU&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"&gt;Who has more siblings? Russ...he has 3 sisters and 2 brothers, I have one brother, one sister.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; min-height: 14px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="margin: 0px; font-family: Helvetica; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; font-size: 12px; line-height: normal; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal;"&gt;Who wears the pants in the relationship?  I wear about a leg and a half.  he wears the rest.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-2274852211776623190?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/2274852211776623190/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=2274852211776623190' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/2274852211776623190'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/2274852211776623190'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/03/oh-my-word-ive-been-tagged-and-im-only.html' title='oh my word i&apos;ve been tagged and i&apos;m only doing this because i am bored out of my mind and because i love my sister who tagged me.'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-7513185083212589074</id><published>2008-03-25T17:51:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-25T18:51:45.788-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My honey bunny</title><content type='html'>Reasons why I love my honey bunny&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1.  He fixes stuff for me (most recently my car)&lt;br /&gt;2.  He bought me flowers yesterday&lt;br /&gt;3.  He loves me even though i sometimes only shower twice a week&lt;br /&gt;4.  He lets me make almost every decision (mostly because he in incapable)&lt;br /&gt;5.  He gives me rides everywhere even though i have a car&lt;br /&gt;6.  He enjoys eating just as much as i do&lt;br /&gt;7.  He is super nice to his family&lt;br /&gt;8.  He tells me i'm beautiful even when i look my ugliest&lt;br /&gt;9.  He makes up ridiculous words like 'tish' and 'chuly'&lt;br /&gt;10.  He would give me his kidney even if we broke up (its from a House episode)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-7513185083212589074?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/7513185083212589074/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=7513185083212589074' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/7513185083212589074'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/7513185083212589074'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/03/my-honey-bunny.html' title='My honey bunny'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-3940668517990777730</id><published>2008-03-25T17:29:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-25T17:50:22.156-06:00</updated><title type='text'>boredom</title><content type='html'>Today i caught up on much needed sleep.  I slept until 11:15 and missed my class.  I didn't have work today so i decided not to leave the house.  I was in absolutely no mood to do anything productive so i put on my fuzzy green socks, cuddled up on the couch and started blogging.  Here are some lists that i made to pass the time:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My favorite places to eat in Utah:&lt;br /&gt;1.  El Matador&lt;br /&gt;2.  Carrabbas&lt;br /&gt;3.  Cafe Rio&lt;br /&gt;4.  La Carreta&lt;br /&gt;5.  Oasis&lt;br /&gt;6.  Lonestar Taqueria&lt;br /&gt;7.  J-dawgs&lt;br /&gt;8.  Texas Roadhouse&lt;br /&gt;9.  JCW's&lt;br /&gt;10.  The Pie&lt;br /&gt;11.  Purple Sage&lt;br /&gt;12.  El Salvador&lt;br /&gt;13.  Atlantic&lt;br /&gt;14.  Zupa's&lt;br /&gt;15.  Zenger's Deli&lt;br /&gt;16.  Tucano's&lt;br /&gt;17.  Great Harvest&lt;br /&gt;18.  Cold Stone&lt;br /&gt;19.  Neilson's Frozen Custard&lt;br /&gt;20.  Noodle's and Co.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My favorite websites:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.foodnetwork.com"&gt;foodnetwork&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.stumbleupon.com"&gt;stumbleupon&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.anthropologie.com"&gt;anthropologie&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.mrpicassohead.com/create.html?skin=original"&gt;Mr. Picassohead&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.jacksonpollock.org/"&gt;Jackson Pollock&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.half.com"&gt;Half&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.ksl.com"&gt;KSL&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.urbn.com"&gt;urban outfitters&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My favorite TV shows:&lt;br /&gt;1.  House&lt;br /&gt;2.  The Office&lt;br /&gt;3.  Good Eats&lt;br /&gt;4.  Giada - Everyday Italian&lt;br /&gt;5.  America's Next Top Model&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My favorite music:&lt;br /&gt;1.  Alexi Murdoch and Nick Drake&lt;br /&gt;2.  Sufjan Stevens&lt;br /&gt;3.  Pink Floyd and other classic rockers&lt;br /&gt;4.  Damien Rice&lt;br /&gt;5.  whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;gosh i'm boring.  i can't think of anything else.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-3940668517990777730?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/3940668517990777730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=3940668517990777730' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/3940668517990777730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/3940668517990777730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/03/boredom.html' title='boredom'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-5964753830009023740</id><published>2008-03-25T16:33:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-25T16:58:20.878-06:00</updated><title type='text'>vitamin water:  sucks</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.servesmart.net/Glaceau_Vitamin_Water.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 346px; height: 192px;" src="http://www.servesmart.net/Glaceau_Vitamin_Water.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;really, its not that good.  I am doing a project on vitamin water for my marketing class and i have, therefore, felt obligated to try and like the product.  I have tried so hard to like it but to no avail.  Its yucky.  don't buy it.  trust me, i was born with superior taste buds.    I will, however, give props to the masterminds behind the vitamin water marketing campaign.  they have fooled many.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-5964753830009023740?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/5964753830009023740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=5964753830009023740' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/5964753830009023740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/5964753830009023740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/03/vitamin-water-sucks.html' title='vitamin water:  sucks'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-3224941059910022874</id><published>2008-03-25T16:18:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T00:12:01.102-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Easter traditions...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;Each year as a child my family and i would dye our hard-boiled eggs just like every other Easter-celebrating family. Then we would roll them down the hill, just like every other Easter-celebrating family (or so i thought). It wasn't until I was older that i realized (much to my dismay) that rolling eggs down a super-sized hill is not a normal easter tradition. I was baffled. I am now baffled as to the origin of this tradition. It is a mystery yet to be discovered. This year, Russ and I expertly colored our eggs but we couldn't find a big enough hill in Provo to roll them down. The purpose of rolling the eggs is to experience the satisfaction of watching them explode as gravity takes it's toll. We tried rolling them down a hill at Rock Canyon Park but they were all duds. We had to break them by throwing them at lightposts, sidewalks, children. Maybe next year i'll just resort to eating them although they wouldn't be as yummy as these easter cookies i made....yum!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-l9G-qPC_I/AAAAAAAAAFU/l0sxfOc1Gsk/s1600-h/IMG_0505.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-l9G-qPC_I/AAAAAAAAAFU/l0sxfOc1Gsk/s320/IMG_0505.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181810405119298546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-l9HOqPDAI/AAAAAAAAAFc/piCHtRfw43w/s1600-h/IMG_0507.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-l9HOqPDAI/AAAAAAAAAFc/piCHtRfw43w/s320/IMG_0507.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181810409414265858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-l9HuqPDBI/AAAAAAAAAFk/7yXWq8jrf0w/s1600-h/IMG_0504.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-l9HuqPDBI/AAAAAAAAAFk/7yXWq8jrf0w/s320/IMG_0504.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5181810418004200466" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-3224941059910022874?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/3224941059910022874/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=3224941059910022874' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/3224941059910022874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/3224941059910022874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/03/easter-traditions.html' title='Easter traditions...'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-l9G-qPC_I/AAAAAAAAAFU/l0sxfOc1Gsk/s72-c/IMG_0505.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-2448221140675102709</id><published>2008-03-22T17:44:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T00:12:01.217-07:00</updated><title type='text'>can someone PLEASE buy me a puppy?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-WabeqPC-I/AAAAAAAAAFM/xfANIej8lyk/s1600-h/puppy-reachingout.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-WabeqPC-I/AAAAAAAAAFM/xfANIej8lyk/s320/puppy-reachingout.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180716743236979682" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have banned myself from looking on ksl.com at puppies for sale because i was getting a little bit obsessive.  but i REALLY (times 300) want a puppy and i want it now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-2448221140675102709?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/2448221140675102709/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=2448221140675102709' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/2448221140675102709'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/2448221140675102709'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/03/can-someone-please-buy-me-puppy.html' title='can someone PLEASE buy me a puppy?'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-WabeqPC-I/AAAAAAAAAFM/xfANIej8lyk/s72-c/puppy-reachingout.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-6065592930752751450</id><published>2008-03-21T16:07:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T00:12:01.636-07:00</updated><title type='text'>piece of cake</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I make cakes. I am an aspiring cake decorator. DREAM JOB = Duff's assistant on "Ace of Cakes." At the rate i'm improving i'll probably be good enough for the job in about 22 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-QzsOqPC7I/AAAAAAAAAE0/qgVPqRTD58c/s1600-h/IMG_0498.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-QzsOqPC7I/AAAAAAAAAE0/qgVPqRTD58c/s320/IMG_0498.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180322306325416882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;You gotta love the old school Jazz colors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-QyiOqPC4I/AAAAAAAAAEc/WiJdx7HCWgI/s1600-h/IMG_0452.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-QyiOqPC4I/AAAAAAAAAEc/WiJdx7HCWgI/s320/IMG_0452.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180321035015097218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-QyieqPC5I/AAAAAAAAAEk/TYoEOUJrko4/s1600-h/IMG_0338.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-QyieqPC5I/AAAAAAAAAEk/TYoEOUJrko4/s320/IMG_0338.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180321039310064530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-6065592930752751450?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/6065592930752751450/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=6065592930752751450' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/6065592930752751450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/6065592930752751450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/03/piece-of-cake.html' title='piece of cake'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-QzsOqPC7I/AAAAAAAAAE0/qgVPqRTD58c/s72-c/IMG_0498.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-6540841052644088458</id><published>2008-03-21T15:41:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T00:12:03.343-07:00</updated><title type='text'>funny faces</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-Qwd-qPC0I/AAAAAAAAAD8/BR1ObeKXF2A/s1600-h/IMG_0422.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-Qwd-qPC0I/AAAAAAAAAD8/BR1ObeKXF2A/s320/IMG_0422.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180318762977397570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-QweOqPC1I/AAAAAAAAAEE/byydbrWzP4c/s1600-h/IMG_0236.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-QweOqPC1I/AAAAAAAAAEE/byydbrWzP4c/s320/IMG_0236.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180318767272364882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-QweuqPC2I/AAAAAAAAAEM/MNWfsNhp5Ik/s1600-h/IMG_0291.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-QweuqPC2I/AAAAAAAAAEM/MNWfsNhp5Ik/s320/IMG_0291.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180318775862299490" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-QwfOqPC3I/AAAAAAAAAEU/QBtVX4BmW2E/s1600-h/IMG_0203.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-QwfOqPC3I/AAAAAAAAAEU/QBtVX4BmW2E/s320/IMG_0203.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180318784452234098" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-Qv5-qPCvI/AAAAAAAAADU/tBb0mZceF1w/s1600-h/IMG_0038.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-Qv5-qPCvI/AAAAAAAAADU/tBb0mZceF1w/s320/IMG_0038.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180318144502106866" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-Qv6uqPCwI/AAAAAAAAADc/T1RdC4zfffU/s1600-h/IMG_0425.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-Qv6uqPCwI/AAAAAAAAADc/T1RdC4zfffU/s320/IMG_0425.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180318157387008770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-Qv6-qPCxI/AAAAAAAAADk/oKPmXl7Yv1U/s1600-h/IMG_0341.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-Qv6-qPCxI/AAAAAAAAADk/oKPmXl7Yv1U/s320/IMG_0341.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180318161681976082" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-Qv7eqPCyI/AAAAAAAAADs/-ckU_FmTdRA/s1600-h/IMG_0418.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-Qv7eqPCyI/AAAAAAAAADs/-ckU_FmTdRA/s320/IMG_0418.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180318170271910690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-Qv7uqPCzI/AAAAAAAAAD0/LrtFqP3zbUI/s1600-h/IMG_0158.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-Qv7uqPCzI/AAAAAAAAAD0/LrtFqP3zbUI/s320/IMG_0158.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180318174566878002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-6540841052644088458?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/6540841052644088458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=6540841052644088458' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/6540841052644088458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/6540841052644088458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/03/funny-faces.html' title='funny faces'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-Qwd-qPC0I/AAAAAAAAAD8/BR1ObeKXF2A/s72-c/IMG_0422.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-4415535115993782636</id><published>2008-03-20T21:08:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T00:12:03.486-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Best major ever.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-QcDOqPCuI/AAAAAAAAADM/P_BHc_ggxOk/s1600-h/247744303_0baa3f803b.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 248px; height: 212px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-QcDOqPCuI/AAAAAAAAADM/P_BHc_ggxOk/s320/247744303_0baa3f803b.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180296313183341282" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Let me tell you why I have the best major ever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1-Free food ALL the time. This includes a never-ending supply of carbonated sherbet (thanks to Dr. Ogden, the inventor of Fizzix-yoplait's carbonated yogurt)...just help yourself at the soft serve machine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;2-More free food. Lab consists of 10 percent work and 90 percent eating. For example, today in my food engineering lab we were experimenting with microwaves. First we measured the absorptivity and heat penetration of various substances. This included microwave pizza, hot pockets, microwave brownies, mac &amp;amp; cheese, etc. We were also required to eat the food after cooking it so we could comment on the quality and characteristics of microwaved food. Next class: food analysis lab. Today we measured the fat content and fatty acid profile of various snack foods: whoppers, fritos, goldfish, chips ahoy, and pringles. Since we really only needed to use about 6 grams each item we, of course were required to eat the rest. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3-Food that is free. A class required for the food science major is NDFS 191 - Intro to Food Science. The class is one hour a week and each week a guest comes to speak about their job in the food industry. About 90% of the time the lecture ends with free samples of the food they work with. Today, for example, someone from Dreyers ice cream spoke. Free Dibs and Ice cream bars were given to each student and to me after the class. I'm not actually in the class but i know when the class is and when to get free food.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;4-Free candy. The sensory lab, and also my place of employment, has 3 large cupboards in the back room dedicated to the storage of candy and snacks only. these are very large cupboards which i often invade. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5-Free food abounds. I have about 50 more examples but i will spare you. If this doesn't convince you to become a food science major then you must not like food.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-4415535115993782636?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/4415535115993782636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=4415535115993782636' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/4415535115993782636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/4415535115993782636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/03/best-major-ever.html' title='Best major ever.'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-QcDOqPCuI/AAAAAAAAADM/P_BHc_ggxOk/s72-c/247744303_0baa3f803b.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-9209972126964713320</id><published>2008-03-20T21:00:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-20T21:07:42.225-06:00</updated><title type='text'>hot hot hot</title><content type='html'>Last night when Russ and I got back to my house he immediately went upstairs to turn up the heat.  A few hours later I was hot so I told him to go turn it down.  Soon after this I went to bed.  Some time later I lay sweating in my bed thinking that i was going crazy because I KNOW I saw Russ go upstairs to turn down the heat.  I finally dozed off and woke up at 7 am WITHOUT an alarm (a miracle) because I was bathing in my own sweat.  My roommate came in and i asked her why it was 100 degrees in our house and she said that Russ turned the heat up to 90.  i thought that it must be a cruel joke but according to Russ it was an accident.  So much for Spring....lets just skip it and get straight to Summer, right in my own house.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-9209972126964713320?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/9209972126964713320/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=9209972126964713320' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/9209972126964713320'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/9209972126964713320'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/03/hot-hot-hot.html' title='hot hot hot'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-6672449706553915625</id><published>2008-03-20T00:20:00.001-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-20T00:35:33.850-06:00</updated><title type='text'>When you gotta go....</title><content type='html'>So...tonight i was at wal-mart getting  a duplicate key made for my new car (i will discover later that the key doesn't even work!) and I REALLY had to go.  I spent five hours at work tonight with an endless supply of diet coke.  Not good news for my bladder.  I finally gave in to my bladder's plea to abandon all fears of public bathrooms and I made my way quickly to the nearest ladies room.  Unfortunatley there was a big yellow cleaning cart purposely blocking the door.  As i stood there pouting another shopper desperate for relief joined me and looked at the cart in displeasure.    We proceeded to lean forward so we could listen to hear if someone was actually in the bathroom cleaning.   Hearing nothing, we figured we were safe.  We tip-toed into the bathroom pretended not to see a person mopping in the last stall.  As he heard us (i was surprised to hear a man's voice) he yelled out that he was cleaning, probably hoping that we would leave.  But when you gotta go, you gotta go.  We both pretended to be deaf and quickly relieved ourselves.  On our way out we bumped into Fernando, a man about  the size of a small vehicle, who looked more than displeased.  As he tried to explain that the cart was blocking the door for a reason I just told him that i really had to go and then i ran away.  The whold ordeal felt almost dangerous.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-6672449706553915625?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/6672449706553915625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=6672449706553915625' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/6672449706553915625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/6672449706553915625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/03/when-you-gotta-go.html' title='When you gotta go....'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-2747479366005438356</id><published>2008-03-19T11:27:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T11:33:16.032-06:00</updated><title type='text'>My latest achievement</title><content type='html'>So....I'll admit that i haven't been an outstanding student lately and that i have completely neglected  one class in particular:  finance.  I went to class on the first day, decided that it wasn't worth my time, and haven't been back since.  I planned to read the book and just study on my own.  I procrastinated until the day of the test.  I hadn't even cracked open the book.  I planned on utter failure.  I studied for 3 hours.  Took the test.  Crossed my fingers.  Checked my score.  Stared  in complete disbelief.  Could it be??  87%?  MY score?  I was elated.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-2747479366005438356?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/2747479366005438356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=2747479366005438356' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/2747479366005438356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/2747479366005438356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/03/my-latest-achievement.html' title='My latest achievement'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-4543890484635744242</id><published>2008-03-19T11:16:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T11:37:15.937-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Police Beat</title><content type='html'>I read the Daily Universe (BYU's newspaper) almost every day.  One of my favorite things to read is the Police Beat.  Only at BYU do you find such police reports....Here are a few examples from today:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A male student posted fliers in female dorm halls asking for dates to satisfy a dating requirement for his marriage preparation class.  The fliers not only violate BYU policy but were disturbing female residents.  Police discovered that the student was not enrolled in that class and that the professer he said he had has retired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A student called BYU police when she noticed three suspicious males walking around a parking lot.  When police responded they determined that the suspicious males were actually grounds crew who had been picking up trash.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A resident of Heritage Halls called BYU police to report a group of men playing basketball and listening to loud music at 12:30 a.m.  BYU police told the men to stop playing and go to bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A Female student was cited for shoplifting in the BYU Bookstore.  The student stole $3.69 worth of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.  When asked why she stole them she said that she thought they were overpriced.  When searched, officers found $72 in cash on her person.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am surely grateful for the BYU police and all the hard work they do to make sure that we are safe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-4543890484635744242?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/4543890484635744242/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=4543890484635744242' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/4543890484635744242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/4543890484635744242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/03/police-beat.html' title='Police Beat'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-4927691081167580674</id><published>2008-03-19T11:13:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T11:51:20.930-06:00</updated><title type='text'>A change to the last post</title><content type='html'>So, in my last post i said that i hear the voice of Bob Barker... what i MEANT is the voice of Rod Roddy.  "A Neeewwww Caaarrr!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-4927691081167580674?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/4927691081167580674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=4927691081167580674' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/4927691081167580674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/4927691081167580674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/03/change-to-last-post.html' title='A change to the last post'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-8319977738615088610</id><published>2008-03-17T16:51:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T00:12:03.825-07:00</updated><title type='text'>New (old) Car...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;First of all, everytime I think of the phrase "new car" I hear it in my mind in Rod Roddy's voice (price is right? anyone?). I recently inherited my grandma's old car... An oldsmobile cutlass ciera. I'm not going to lie, I am quite pleased with the new set of wheels as is Russ who will no longer feel embarassed driving my vehicle. As for the neon, I sold it to a 16-year old girl who was more than delighted to call the car her own.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-WWmuqPC8I/AAAAAAAAAE8/mE6FX7U6dT4/s1600-h/IMG_0500.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-WWmuqPC8I/AAAAAAAAAE8/mE6FX7U6dT4/s320/IMG_0500.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180712538463996866" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-WWnOqPC9I/AAAAAAAAAFE/mwHbyF22Fu8/s1600-h/IMG_0298.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-WWnOqPC9I/AAAAAAAAAFE/mwHbyF22Fu8/s320/IMG_0298.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5180712547053931474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-8319977738615088610?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/8319977738615088610/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=8319977738615088610' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/8319977738615088610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/8319977738615088610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/03/new-old-car.html' title='New (old) Car...'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R-WWmuqPC8I/AAAAAAAAAE8/mE6FX7U6dT4/s72-c/IMG_0500.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-6137855305620157475</id><published>2008-03-09T20:14:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2008-03-09T20:22:25.931-06:00</updated><title type='text'>More Jazz</title><content type='html'>Russ and I planned to go to the Jazz game Monday night and we got some tickets up in the nose-bleeds.  He found out the day of the game that his dad got 4 free tickets on 9th row.  Unfortunately, his brothers and dad were going and there was only one ticket left....for him.  So he ditched me (i'm still bitter) and i invited Mikkal.  It was still fun watching the game from a mile away and Russ was probably loving life, not only because he was on 9th row but because i wasn't there to constantly bombard him with questions about what just happened.  I have no idea what is going on any time the refs blow the whistle so i have to ask a billion questions.  We got to the game a little late and apparently missed a huge foul by Dirk Newitski on Andrei Kirilenko, who was transported to the hospital shortly after being slammed to the ground by Dirk.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-6137855305620157475?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/6137855305620157475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=6137855305620157475' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/6137855305620157475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/6137855305620157475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/03/russ-and-i-planned-to-go-to-jazz-game.html' title='More Jazz'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-4168804451889481089</id><published>2008-03-01T11:15:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T00:12:04.919-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Leap Year</title><content type='html'>My roommates decided to throw a "Leap Years Eve" party in honor of the extra day of the month this year. The theme was "fondue and latin jazz." I contributed the latin jazz part. I recently discovered a new genre of music, best described as Bossa nova (a brazilian form of jazz music that evolved from samba), and it is quickly becoming my new obsession. Some favourite artists: Sergio Mendes and Brasil 66 (you might recognize a remake of one of their songs, Mais que nada, by the black eyed peas), Caetano Veloso, Nara Leao, Astrud Gilberto, and Dorival Caymmi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8mhYXBdUBI/AAAAAAAAACE/mqCLW7IXRQg/s1600-h/IMG_0379.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 273px; height: 204px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8mhYXBdUBI/AAAAAAAAACE/mqCLW7IXRQg/s200/IMG_0379.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172843086880788498" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8mhY3BdUCI/AAAAAAAAACM/jsds0THRf2A/s1600-h/IMG_0382.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 265px; height: 198px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8mhY3BdUCI/AAAAAAAAACM/jsds0THRf2A/s200/IMG_0382.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172843095470723106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We provided a Smörgåsbord of delicious dips and treats (see photo) from which i became violently ill after I consumed about 7 times more than my stomach could handle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8mhZHBdUDI/AAAAAAAAACU/NJhGgG-A3mA/s1600-h/IMG_0408.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 255px; height: 191px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8mhZHBdUDI/AAAAAAAAACU/NJhGgG-A3mA/s200/IMG_0408.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172843099765690418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8mhZXBdUEI/AAAAAAAAACc/CGong5MqcGA/s1600-h/IMG_0413.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 239px; height: 179px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8mhZXBdUEI/AAAAAAAAACc/CGong5MqcGA/s200/IMG_0413.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172843104060657730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8mhZnBdUFI/AAAAAAAAACk/6xXDGx84ZSc/s1600-h/IMG_0429.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 211px; height: 283px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8mhZnBdUFI/AAAAAAAAACk/6xXDGx84ZSc/s200/IMG_0429.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172843108355625042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We ended the night with a guitar hero tournament which, surprisingly, didn't involve a contest of guitar playing skill but of poise...as you can see by the photos I am the proud winner of this contest.  &lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-4168804451889481089?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/4168804451889481089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=4168804451889481089' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/4168804451889481089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/4168804451889481089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/03/my-roommates-decided-to-throw-leap.html' title='Leap Year'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8mhYXBdUBI/AAAAAAAAACE/mqCLW7IXRQg/s72-c/IMG_0379.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-4465008587313063567</id><published>2008-03-01T11:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T00:12:05.644-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My Job.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Apparenly my days working at La Caretta are no longer nearing an end.  I put in my two weeks about 2 weeks ago, but then i decided that i needed the money and that another month and a half wouldn't kill me.   I did, however, quit working friday nights  to save my sanity .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8mbYXBdT8I/AAAAAAAAABc/MOERWr1R3r8/s1600-h/IMG_0445.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8mbYXBdT8I/AAAAAAAAABc/MOERWr1R3r8/s200/IMG_0445.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172836489811021762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8mbYnBdT9I/AAAAAAAAABk/WqXhAY6V2bs/s1600-h/IMG_0444.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8mbYnBdT9I/AAAAAAAAABk/WqXhAY6V2bs/s200/IMG_0444.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172836494105989074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8mbYnBdT-I/AAAAAAAAABs/Ax7CiTJ0Cio/s1600-h/IMG_0443.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8mbYnBdT-I/AAAAAAAAABs/Ax7CiTJ0Cio/s200/IMG_0443.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172836494105989090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;These are my gay bus-boys, Alvaro and Steve.  They are two adorable 15-year-olds who have  mad crushes on me and spend the night fighting about which one loves me the most.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8mbZHBdT_I/AAAAAAAAAB0/iG6Fl3f6sS8/s1600-h/IMG_0435.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8mbZHBdT_I/AAAAAAAAAB0/iG6Fl3f6sS8/s200/IMG_0435.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172836502695923698" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Tucker and Yerdy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8mbZHBdUAI/AAAAAAAAAB8/MiFQApQ4eCc/s1600-h/IMG_0439.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8mbZHBdUAI/AAAAAAAAAB8/MiFQApQ4eCc/s200/IMG_0439.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172836502695923714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is my cute little Peruvian grandma who owns the restaurant and is the head cook. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-4465008587313063567?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/4465008587313063567/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=4465008587313063567' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/4465008587313063567'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/4465008587313063567'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/03/la-caretta.html' title='My Job.'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8mbYXBdT8I/AAAAAAAAABc/MOERWr1R3r8/s72-c/IMG_0445.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-7751429950314225995</id><published>2008-02-28T01:22:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-09T20:13:15.174-06:00</updated><title type='text'>Plates</title><content type='html'>as of two weeks ago I collect dinner plates.  some day i will have plates in all colors, shapes and sizes.  feel free to contribute.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-7751429950314225995?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/7751429950314225995/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=7751429950314225995' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/7751429950314225995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/7751429950314225995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/02/as-of-two-weeks-ago-i-collect-dinner.html' title='Plates'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-871069968596747858</id><published>2008-02-28T00:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T00:12:06.030-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Burritos and Jazz</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8ZfdMUljPI/AAAAAAAAABM/u-Ch8Nz11rg/s1600-h/IMG_0372.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8ZfdMUljPI/AAAAAAAAABM/u-Ch8Nz11rg/s320/IMG_0372.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5171926177210010866" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8ZfdcUljQI/AAAAAAAAABU/OfkaYSZAd5E/s1600-h/IMG_0375.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8ZfdcUljQI/AAAAAAAAABU/OfkaYSZAd5E/s320/IMG_0375.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5171926181504978178" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For valentines I got Russ tickets to the Jazz vs. Pistons game (I am SUCH a good girlfriend).  Before we went to the game we stopped at this taco shop in Murray called Lonestar Taqueria where we ate possibly the best burrito known to man.  Unfortunately we were in a hurry so Russ had to eat and drive at the same time and spilled approximately 1/3 of the burrito on his lap.  Another unfortunate event occured when we went to pay for parking and I realized that I had left my wallet at the taco shop.  Since Russ had no cash we decided to at least ask the guy if we could write him a check.  It was either that, or park 5 miles away.  The guy just laughed at us for about 2 minutes.  Apparently he felt pretty bad for us because he told us to just park and not tell anyone.  So nice!  I hope someone will do that man a favor.  Russ almost pooped his pants the first half of the game because the Jazz were playing so horribly.  Luckily the Jazz saved him from making a big mess because they made a miraculous come-back in the second half to win the game.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-871069968596747858?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/871069968596747858/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=871069968596747858' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/871069968596747858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/871069968596747858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/02/burritos-and-jazz.html' title='Burritos and Jazz'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8ZfdMUljPI/AAAAAAAAABM/u-Ch8Nz11rg/s72-c/IMG_0372.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-251281830610653992</id><published>2008-02-27T23:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T00:12:06.383-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pancakes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8ZcMcUljKI/AAAAAAAAAAk/cGKKxFQZt6U/s1600-h/IMG_0364.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8ZcMcUljKI/AAAAAAAAAAk/cGKKxFQZt6U/s320/IMG_0364.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5171922590912318626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8ZcMsUljLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/9FTtHcFf0_A/s1600-h/IMG_0369.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8ZcMsUljLI/AAAAAAAAAAs/9FTtHcFf0_A/s320/IMG_0369.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5171922595207285938" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8ZcM8UljMI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Jp_mkfcYeCw/s1600-h/IMG_0366.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8ZcM8UljMI/AAAAAAAAAA0/Jp_mkfcYeCw/s320/IMG_0366.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5171922599502253250" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today the BYU Food Science Club (of which I am a proud member) hosted the first annual "pancaked eating contest."  I have spent the past week trying to psych-out the competition in order to boost my confidence.  I was one of only 2 girls that participated in the contest along with about 15 guys.  Russ was there to feed me my pancakes and to be my official "counter," which, it turns out, wasn't too difficult since I came in last place with a total of only 6 pancakes in 5 minutes.  After the 5th one I started choking.  The choking continued for several minutes.  My life flashed before my eyes.  No one seemed to realize that I COULDN'T BREATHE (see photo of red face) because no one was helping me.  I guess they were all so mesmerized by the fools stuffing their faces that they were unable to hear me trying to cough up my internal organs.  Russ finally patted me on the back a couple of times with the same force he would use to pat a new born child.  Needless to say, the competition was a partial disaster (see pancake-slop photo).  The other girl only ate 7 pancakes, as did half of the other guys, so I didn't feel too bad.  3 guys ate 15 and probably will regret it for several days.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-251281830610653992?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/251281830610653992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=251281830610653992' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/251281830610653992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/251281830610653992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/02/today-byu-food-science-club-of-which-i.html' title='Pancakes'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8ZcMcUljKI/AAAAAAAAAAk/cGKKxFQZt6U/s72-c/IMG_0364.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-105803076981968327</id><published>2008-02-27T10:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-02-27T10:33:02.035-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Here is a list of classes i am taking RIGHT NOW:&lt;br /&gt;1 - Food Process Engineering&lt;br /&gt;2- Food Analysis&lt;br /&gt;3 - Marketing&lt;br /&gt;4 - Finance&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-105803076981968327?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/105803076981968327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=105803076981968327' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/105803076981968327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/105803076981968327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/02/here-is-list-of-classes-i-am-taking.html' title=''/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-6259990472766994371</id><published>2008-02-27T10:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T00:12:06.535-07:00</updated><title type='text'>my baby</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8WdMCVRTeI/AAAAAAAAAAc/KgTHNZCK8LU/s1600-h/IMG_0269.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8WdMCVRTeI/AAAAAAAAAAc/KgTHNZCK8LU/s320/IMG_0269.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5171712577214959074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I officially have the cutest baby (nephew) in the world.  He is 9 months old and cuter than beans.  I am by far his favourite aunt and if it weren't for his mom i'd be his favourite person.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-6259990472766994371?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/6259990472766994371/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=6259990472766994371' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/6259990472766994371'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/6259990472766994371'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/02/my-baby.html' title='my baby'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8WdMCVRTeI/AAAAAAAAAAc/KgTHNZCK8LU/s72-c/IMG_0269.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-1951620851707720596</id><published>2008-02-27T10:12:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T00:12:07.114-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Boots</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8WaaSVRTcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8XPVc_rvkbE/s1600-h/IMG_0141.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8WaaSVRTcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8XPVc_rvkbE/s320/IMG_0141.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5171709523493211586" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8WaaiVRTdI/AAAAAAAAAAU/899LwQJVVS0/s1600-h/IMG_0140.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8WaaiVRTdI/AAAAAAAAAAU/899LwQJVVS0/s320/IMG_0140.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5171709527788178898" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would like to bear my testimony of rain boots.  I bought these boots at Mervyn's for $13.  That means that for $13 my feet and toes not only stay warm and dry but I get more attention than a boot-wearer could ever ask for.  Never in my life have I had more random strangers talk to me/compliment me on something that I wear.  Perhaps these boots have magic powers that draw people unto them.  No matter the reason, I am complimented daily, nay, hourly for my taste in rain boots.  Soon after purchasing my own pair my mom and I purchased an identical pair for my sister.  We now reminisce of the good old days when we were 4 and 7 years old and mom made us wear matching dresses to church every sunday and matching outfits every other day of the week.  Since Sara was not available to model her boots at the time, Russ willingly stepped in.  I think he secretly covets my boots.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-1951620851707720596?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/1951620851707720596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=1951620851707720596' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/1951620851707720596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/1951620851707720596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/02/boots.html' title='Boots'/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_dK4GOiVqYMs/R8WaaSVRTcI/AAAAAAAAAAM/8XPVc_rvkbE/s72-c/IMG_0141.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-7731790221618888134</id><published>2008-02-27T10:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-02-27T10:12:04.535-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>thanks to my wonderful blog-expert-sister I now have a pretty blog site.  I attempted to make it pretty but i just messed everything up.  So she fixed it for me.  Love you!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-7731790221618888134?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/7731790221618888134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=7731790221618888134' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/7731790221618888134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/7731790221618888134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2008/02/thanks-to-my-wonderful-blog-expert.html' title=''/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8572494864102317599.post-4399738401091638161</id><published>2007-12-23T15:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-12-23T15:41:37.846-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Apparently I am now a blogger.  I'm going to spend my Christmas break figuring out how to do this tish.  Wish me luck!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8572494864102317599-4399738401091638161?l=emilyannmyers.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/feeds/4399738401091638161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=8572494864102317599&amp;postID=4399738401091638161' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/4399738401091638161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8572494864102317599/posts/default/4399738401091638161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://emilyannmyers.blogspot.com/2007/12/apparently-i-am-now-blogger.html' title=''/><author><name>Emily Jones</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/108605694550412777838</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-MQ_sisnug6Q/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAAA/3zNCZmni6eU/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
