Emily is Pretty and Likes to Blow Men

Miss. Jenna, write something! This is turning into my personal interpretation of everything that happens.

All is well; We're still in Edinburgh, still apartment searching, still partying. Our day consists of sitting in the internet cafe next to our hostel all afternoon e-mailing potential landlords, and all night we socialize. Our hostel is great here, there's always something to do and people are so friendly, although I may have been threatened today of getting kick out. Here's a funny story...

Jenna and I went to bed early last night and in the middle of the night (3:36am to be exact) all I hear in a very loud Manchester accent is "Jenna! Cheese! Psssst, Jenna. Jenna, Cheese!"

I open my sleepy eyes and in our room trying to awaken Jenna in a drunken state is one of our friends (who we met earlier that day.) He wanted a midnight snack of cheese and apparently he knew Jenna and purchased some Brie recently.

So after much badgering, Jenna (laughing hysterically the whole time) got up to feed the poor, hungry lad. She returned with him fifteen minutes later and tried to go back to sleep, but Manchester guy sat himself down on my bed and proceeded to discuss how disappointed he was with the quality of Jenna's cheese. "It twas more cream than cheese. I prefer a nice smoked cheddar." We kept shhhing him because he was being very loud and there were several other people asleep in our room, but he informed us that he was unable to whisper. He just didn't know how. And he also proceeded to tell us how happy it would make him if we all could wake up early and shower at the same time the next morning. Not "together" but in separate stalls... I guess so we can talk? A bonding thing perhaps? He thought it would be really fun (but we didn't so don't worry, mom.)

Finally he left and Jenna and I were left in stitches. We thought this whole fiasco was the funniest thing that had happened in a long time. Jenna peeked downed from her bunk and told me that while they were in the kitchen eating cheese, Manchester guy said he really liked me and wanted to write something nice about me on the fridge with a dry-erase marker. He wrote "Emily likes to blow men." Then he decided that that wasn't so nice after all, and scratched out "likes to blow men" and instead wrote "is pretty." Turns out it was a permanent marker, and after trying to clean the graffiti off for awhile they gave up and decided the world should know that I'm pretty and like to blow men. This is the reason for me almost getting kicked out of the hostel today. The guy at the front desk this morning (who thinks he runs the place) asked me if I knew who wrote on the fridge, and I said no. I don't want people getting kicked out for a silly, drunken mistake. But he then informed me that he would have to kick me out if I didn't tell him. At this point I flipped and started yelling and asked him what grounds he had to kick me out. I didn't do anything, after all.

It was all very dramatic.

After the shouting match I came to have a coffee, and here I am, so I still don't really know my fate. I'm sure I'll be fine, up until this point I'm pretty sure the front desk Nazi was trying to sleep with me. And I'm also pretty sure he knows who wrote on the fridge now, after all that. Word gets around fast.

Anyways, there's the story of the guy from Manchester and the cheese. I'll let you know if we get kicked out of the hostel! Cheers!