Gas Station

When i think of Emily, the first story i automatically think of is one she told me where she pulled into a gas station, and the attendant said, "your tank is on the other side" so she pulled around the pump and the attendant said, "your tank is still on the other side." She told me this barley able to speak because of laughing, and i think of if the same way. Emily was so hilarious. She could do something like this, thinking off in her mind to something great, not paying attention to something right in front of her, and she'd just laugh about it, realizing how funny it was.
She had this other story when she used to work at JEmanuel, and she had to deliver these chocolate covered strawberries to Morristown from the Chester store. And she was running late, and waiting on this road, and she couldn't pull onto the main street, so finally she saw a break, and 'busted in' and the guy behind her beeps. She thinks, "sorry i cut you off buddy" he keeps beeping, and she's like, "Ok, sorry!" but he keeps beeping. Finally she looks in front of her and sees a hurse, realizing she's cut off an entire funeral procession, so she cuts off at the next road and stops short to laugh, then all the strawberries in the back seat fly forward, so she's gotta pick them up and put them back. When she gets to Morristown the lady is like, "man these look discusting, that stupid Chester store!"
As many of these stories Emily had to tell me whenever i'd see her, i'd had with her throughout our lives. Whether is was when we called eachother when we were both watching Riki Lakes, "Big Beautiful Talented Women-Who are Really Men" or when she was talking to me on the phone, then suddenly stopped, only to tell me hours later when i called back that she woke up with the phone in her hand, and doesn't remember talking to me at all. When she convinced my sister to buy me the 5ive CD instead of the Hootie and the Blowfish one i really wanted (Emily was always cooler then me) or our millions of vacations together with too many stories to post in this entry. Our several trips to California where we were treated by my family as sisters. I can remember the way she ate, when she hated to sleep in her room because she thought it was haunted. She told me one time that she was checking under her bed for rats, because she'd had a bad dream that they were crawling under there, and Eileen threw one of her shoes up the stairs, that magically curved into her room and smacked her right on the butt. When we were in London completely out of it on the tube trying to find our hotel. If there is any reason i got what i did out of Europe it was because Emily was there with me, making me appreaciate and realize the actual things we were being exposed to. When we made music videos together, fake real world episodes, or walked to Kristen Jone's house after being awake all night, only to be fed grilled cheese and pass out on the couch. How a meal wasn't a meal if rice or pasta wasn't involved. Our many badmitten tornaments. her appreacation of both our dads, and there humor. How my mom and Eileen and Mary Beth chased us around the house demanding she play the piano or they'd snap our bras. There are so many thoughts that spill into my mind more frequently with her then anybody else. The random text messages we'd send, months since contacting eachother that would say rediculous things like, "a hee a hee" with the automatic reply of "a Heooooo!" I could fill a book with what a remember, with 21 years of thoughts. I think my Danielle said it best. Emily, my sister, will always be around.
-Quazie