It’s a good thing I don’t work for Google. I could never get anything done. All day long I’d read the things people search and laugh. What exactly these people are looking for, I have no idea. How they get to my blog from these strange searches is beyond me. Because they just keep getting better, here’s a list of phrases people searched and came to my blog. (For those of you wondering how on earth I could know that, it’s called a tracker. I can see you. You read me everyday and never comment or tell me who you are. I see you.)

picturas (6) - Ole!
kiss my sass (5)
“kiss my sass” emily atwood (3)
“with my fresh wife bobby” (2)
“kiss my sass” (2)
lauren maltby blog (2) - Yes, I know her!
emily and matthew west, picture (2) - That’s something I would search … stalker!
biola ultimate frisbee (2) - YR! (Yeah right)
debbie+downer (2)
PICTURAS (2)
forced haircut age 20 (1)
emily atwood blog (1)
kiss my boyfriend (1)
clark griswald eat your heart out (1)
“emily atwood” (1)
Emily T from YEAH (1) - Say what?
“america’s next top model cycle 6″ (1)
goodnight prayer (1) - Goodnight Room. Such a dumb book.
dyed hair turned black (1)
kiss my vac (1) - “I got my vaccuum in a fashion magazine.”
Heather McAlpine (1)
“kiss my sass” atwood (1)
“Kiss my sass” (1)
t-boz photo gallery of her house (1) - I love T-boz!
emily 18 blog (1) - Weird
put my photo in a box and dye my hair (1) - Again, what are you looking for?
SASS (1)
Emily Brown (1)
great googley moogly! (1) - Seriously? Someone else says this?
girl lovey-dovey (1)
megan dodds december 2005 (1)
God of second chances (1)
sass (1)
a God of second chances (1)
MAtthew West tabs (1) - No, I do not date the Christian musicisan, though my Matt West is a Christian and a musician.
“less talk more makeout” (1)
Emily Sell (1)
debbie downer myspace (1) - Who doesn’t have MySpace nowadays? Abigail, you lie!
ladies getting shampooed (1) - Sicko circa 1950? Sound like a dog grooming parlor to anyone?
Forgive me e-card (1)
entj rare (1)
BIGGIE SASS (1) - Sometimes your words hypnotize me/And I just love your SASSY ways/This is why they broke and you’re so paid
e-card+homer+donut (1)
lovey married women (1)
fairy picturas (1)
heather mcalpine and underwear (1)
“emily atwood” no good (1) - I do Technorati searches for my name, and apparently middle schoolers’ notes in class have become blog posts.
“Emily Atwood” (1)
emily 18 free galleries (1)
“harriet miers” “debbie downer” (1) - Someone copied my pure genius.
lovey dovey kissy photos (1) - Ew. Like I would have that on my Web site.
www.how to count by 3,s (1) - I thought I was bad at math, but at least I don’t have to Google it!
cost of painting toenails in salon (1)
la mirada insider (1)
america’s next top model contestants galleries (1)
sept 29 2005 debbie downer (1)
Emily the Terrible (1) - At your service.
mother bathroom hair bleach (1) - Nightmare.
“bun huggers” (1)
matt hardy ashley (1)
finding my dreamweaver mx serial (1)
i lost my serial number for dreamweaver mx do … (1)
sentimental gifts for my boyfriend (1)

And we can conclude what we already know: Only stalkers and societal rejects read the Internet and blogs. And the crazies in the middle east are going to read my blog, hate me and launch nuclear missles directly to my globular coordinates. In fact, by the time you read this, I’ll be a goner. So sorry for being the cause of nuclear catastrophe. And if you’re already dead, don’t worry, I’m pretty sure blogging exists in heaven.

Better late than never: Thanksgiving pictures! I stole Matt’s cool camera (Canon Digital Rebel with new lens) and asked my family for glamour shots. These are their best shots (along with some more from my wandering photographic eye).

I don’t post my pictures as quickly as I’d like to. I can’t quite sleep, so check out my flickr by clicking here. Included are pictures from our house Christmas Mingle, Christmas Eve, Beware-O, house clean, etc. So be patient, and just click that next button.

Today was Beware-O The Sombrero, the annual San Mateo hat tournament that I’ve been dreading. Last year was miserable. Not only was I separated from my Frisbee stud boyfriend and didn’t win a game, it was POURING all day.

This year, however, the weather was perfect. The fields were soft and wet — perfect for laying out (newbs: that means diving for the Frisbee in a superman-like fashion). Come to think of it, I didn’t do much laying out myself, but it was a slippery, muddy good time. Karen and I finally put two wins on the board. This meant much more to Karen, as she entered her fourth Beware-O with no wins.

Even though I griped at the mention of Beware-O previously, it got me amped for my sport that I neglect during most of the year. For the first time, I was one of the most experienced players on the team, which helped boost my confidence. Ultimate Frisbee is definitely something that takes time to master, and I finally feel I’ve got the basics down. Well, besides my flick, which always needs improvement. And it was also great to make new friends. Go Fierce Flingers! Woo!

I didn’t get a chance to steal Matt’s camera, but here are the shots from my humble little lens. (For those of you looking to check out professional-quality pictures, Matt will be posting pictures soon! Click here for his site!)

Christine was so hot, she marked a guy!
She almost scored on him too, if not for the shady put.

Congrats to Robot and Christine for winning the finals!
Here, Robot throws a successful flick, much to the chagrin of the defense.

Nothing like a Pizookie at BJ’s with the team to end a great day of ultimate!

Christine’s long-awaited Pizookie arrives! We just hope she’ll share.

Robot and KK are nice enough to help her eat it.

El fin!

Nothing comes between a girl and her skrilla!

“Emily, you have to see this. It’s gross … a sickness, really.”

“What is it?”

“It’s Mike’s bed.”

What was the problem? My mind raced with gross possibilities. Maybe he just didn’t make his bed. My mom can be overdramatic on clean rooms and unmade beds. But a “sickness” seems worse than unruly sheets. I know my brother will skip the occasional shower or two, but what the heck is growing on his bed?! I was prepared for the worst.

And the worst I saw. The sheets were folded and pillows neatly placed. Overwhelming the bed was not bacterial fungus, but a shoe fetish gone horribly wrong. Track shoes of every type and color were systematically sprawled over every inch of his bed.

“Your brother has more shoes than we do and your boyfriend likes candles*.” She paused and sighed. “There has to be a place for us.”

Quite a sickness. At least Matt’s sickness is sweet-smelling.

——————————————-
* In Matt’s defense: My mom was saying how easy it is to shop for girls, you can just get them candles. I then told her that Matt really likes the jar candles that smell like fresh-baked cookies and that I almost bought him one from Bath and Body Works for Christmas. And the only reason I didn’t was because it’s the principle of the thing.

Hundreds. Triple digits. I should have never gone to college. All this time my family has had hundreds of channels. We had a 15-year-old cable box, that only has two digits. We got a new cable box and now we have the guide channel picker and hundreds of channels. We’ve been paying for the Game Show Network and the Style Channel, Encore and Turner Classic Movies and we didn’t even know it!

Upon our discovery of the channels, loud snow storms have plauged our poor television. Last night as we brought our dinner to the living room, a storm struck. My dad figited with the cables, only to make it worse.

“Is there was something wrong with the TV?” Mike asked.

“I don’t know,” Dad says, “but I will try changing the cables.”

“What if it’s a problem with the TV?” I chime in.

“No, this thing is the hot Sony setup,” Dad said. “It should be good to go.”

“Dad, we got this TV when I was in, like, fifth grade,” Mike says. “That was in what? 1993?!”

“We can just repair the old one,” Dad said.

“New TVs this size are only about $199,” Matt, the expert, said.

“But this is the cool thing, top of the line!” Dad stressed about the 26-inch behemoth box, obviously having never seen a plasma before.

“Does this mean that we actually have to talk to each other?” Mom asked.

We sat there and looked at each other.

“‘Ocean’s 12′ or ‘Blue Collar Comedy Tour’?”

My friend went on a ride-along with the fire department. A woman’s apartment had caught fire. The cause? Piles of garbage. Firemen trekked through knee-length piles of garbage covering every living space. What kind of garbage you might ask? We’re not talking junk mail. It’s fast food wrappers and food peels.

This woman never took her trash out. Ever. When I take out the trash — yes, housemates, I have taken out the trash — I have a special maneuver. It’s a beautiful, single movement in where I flip, fling, flip and flee. The stench is overwhelming.

Now imagine wading through that on a daily basis.

Last night Matt and I watched Animal Cops on Animal Planet (yes, it’s not an entirely wasted channel). Come to find out, there are several of these types and they own nympho pets. Garbage piles over 6 feet high and the dozens of cats roll around in their own feces.

Now I know why my mom tells me to clean my room. I want to clean it before fecious cats spawn from piles of clothes and neglected mail. But so far the only thing I’ve cleaned up is my computer’s taskbar (thanks AIM Titan).

Our family loves games. It’s always a blast to try the latest board games. Some new ones have meandered into our hearts (Scattergories, Apples to Apples, Who What Where), but one has an irreplaceable spot. Take One. It’s my absolute favorite. So I’ll share a family secret.

Step 1 - Get Scrabble and throw away the board.
Step 2 - Gather family and friends around the table. For parties of 7 or more, grab another set of tiles.
Step 3 - Flip all the tiles over, so the letters are hidden. Place in pool in the center.
Step 4 - Everyone takes 7 tiles and wait for the starting bell — FLIPPER!
Step 5 - Make connecting words with alloted tiles, like a completed crossword.
Step 6 - When all of your tiles are complete words (no abbreviations, slang or spectator chewing), call out “Take One!” and everyone must grab another tile.
Step 7 - Continue Step 6 until pile is gone. If you’re the first to finish with no tiles left, yell “Out!”
Step 8 - Gloat about success and hardship. Using the Q twice having five Es in your first seven tiles…
Step 9 - Count tiles down and across, letters used twice count each time. Ten extra points is added to the winner.
Step 10 - Flip over and start again. The first to reach 300 is the winner.

So have fun and start memorizing the Q entries in the dictionary that don’t require a U.

Every year my extended family gets together for Christmas. One of my favorite things about Christmas is the aftermath of opening presents. A sea of colored paper, tissue and ribbons floods my grandmother’s living room floor.

In surveying my room, I can conclude that the aftermath of Christmas is year-round for me. Bags, clothes, makeup and shoes are everywhere. It looks like everything I own has just been through a Gravitron.

On another note, I can’t help but overlook that Christmas falls on a Sunday. I only remember having to go to church on Christmas once. I wore this horrid outfit — rust-colored jeans with a blue patchwork hoodie. It was the only clothing items Santa brought, and you just can’t weark something you already owned on Christmas!

Now that I’m older and more in tune with society — and fashion — I am interested in Christians’ reaction to Christmas on a Sunday. I haven’t heard anything too positive. More like, how dare Jesus be born on a Sunday! I am too busy celebrating Christmas to go to church. These are the same people who say the ever-so-catchy phrase “Jesus is the reason for the season!”

I know I pick on Christians, when I probably shouldn’t. (Why do they have to make it so easy?!) It’s just another reminder that while Christians may seem to ruin Christianity, God remains the same: loving, powerful, merciful, just and true. This Christmas I am trying to look beyond presents and traditions to see what truly matters.

For someone who doesn’t seem to dream that often, this brain has been cooking up some doozies in recent REM cycles.

Sea Turtle
I was either in the ocean or a marine world tank, swimming with the best of them. All of a sudden, I see a Green Sea Turtle. “Green Sea Turtle! What’s up?! You’re totally my favorite animal!” I screamed. “Really?” GST replied. “That’s cool.” And we went swimming along…

Boy that liked me
There’s this guy that used to like me. We’ll call him Johnny. I used to think he was cute, back when he didn’t realize I existed. So when I’m taken, he notices me(isn’t that always how it goes?!). The other night I dreamt that Johnny rushed into my dorm — which happened to be an uber cool condo — and told me that he still liked me. Knowing that my boyfriend, Matt, was coming over very soon, I shoved Johnny out of the way. And just as my arms return from shoving movements, I see a very confused and very sad boyfriend standing before me. I begged for him to listen to my truthful explanation, but he wouldn’t have it. I collapsed to the ground in tears.

For those of you who have reached this point and are upset that I wasted precious moments of your life — get over it. But really, it’s holidailies’ fault! Matt thought they were worth sharing, but it could have just been my keen story-telling abilities after two margaritas.