Cover bands are sweet but I'm too lame to think of good song requests.

Tomorrow's already Thursday. I better just tell you what happened on Saturday night real quick.




Erin and the Northeastern boys went to Purple Shamrock in Fanueil. While I was waiting in line to meet them, scarf over my head like a babushka, some bald, tattooed men decided to claim me as theirs. When it was our turn to go in, one paid my cover saying, "it's only money." The best part was that he disappeared for the rest of the night. That's what I call service with a smile.

The first song played as I entered was Blister in the Sun. In case you didn't know, that is my and Erin's song. The stars aligned. Saturday was fantastic. Here are some highlights:

• Hot, nice, southern boys from Berklee.
• Canadians
• Nice girls (this is extremely rare. Especially at bars. But this weekend we were two for two.)
• Live cover band that played great songs.

Not only was the band entertaining musically, they were also very nice between sets. One of them told me I was a funny dancer (apparently in a good way... but I'm skeptical) and the other tried to get the band to play my song requests.

The guitarist was Greek so that was awesome. He kept speaking Greek to me. I got some of it. Like when he called me koukla... which just reminded me of my Yia.

During one of their sets, he noticed a creepy guy was trying to dance with me. Guitar in arms, strumming away, he walked off the stage and pointed out the situation to a guard. I was able to handle the creeper with harsh expletives but it was nice to know someone was watching out. When he noticed the creeper leave, he signaled me to the stage and told me he was going to make sure the guy didn't come back and if I need anything say something. Yea bodyguards!




I need to start thinking of lists of songs to request of cover bands. The only one I can think of is always Hard to Handle by the Black Crowes. Don't judge me. It's hard because it has to be something semi-popular that they'd know how to play.

Suggestions?

The day I sold my soul for a better grade.

That Professor Wu is one devious man.

Today in Theories and Processes he dangled the bait. And let me tell you. I jumped.

For three whole points added to the final grade... THREE POINT... I hope you understand how huge that is... I'm serious.

For three whole points added to the final grade, all I had to do was go sit in a basement at a cubicle with a phone and harass old people and immigrants during their dinners, which I would interrupt to ask personal and complicated questions.

We were given a headset and directed to the appropriate SurveyMonkey questionnaire. Sheets of paper displayed anonymous phone numbers we were supposed to call.

"Hi, my name's Maria and I'm calling from a creepy basement in a small brownstone at Boston University to harass you during your down time, time you're probably using to feed yourself, care for your children and enjoy the few hours of your life you have free. May I continue?"

I hate myself.

Most people either didn't answer or hung up on me. The girl next to me was hung up on a lot. I had to stop her from re-dialling and screaming, "BITCH! I'M A PERSON TOO!" (I'm serious)

So two people were nice enough to complete the survey for me. Luckily they didn't realize that although I said it would only take 10 minutes, it would actually take over 20.

The first was an older gentleman who didn't speak much English. He didn't understand my opening spiel but agreed to the interview anyway. He laughed at many of the questions, frequently replied with "I don't know anyting about dat" and made up answers that made no sense. When I asked what race he considered himself, he emphatically declared, "What? I'm Jamaiiiiiican!"

One of the questions we had to ask was: What do you think the three biggest problems facing our country are? The girl next to me showed me her screen as she typed the following reply from a participant, "Fire, jewelry, water."

The second and final person willing to participate over a span of two hours was an old man suspicious I was spying on him from outside his window. This is how it started.

Maria: Would you be willing to participate? It won't take long.
Man: Well... hang on... JANICE! Are you on the other line?!
Janice: Yes.
Man: WELL HANG UP THE PHONE! I got the TV going in there!
Janice: Ok. Ok.
Man: I can't hear!
Janice: [click]
Man: ...How did you get this number? Do you know who I am?

He stuck with the survey until the end. He was born in 1922, apparently, and felt he had the authority to declare that most of his answers were none of my business.

At least I didn't get the person who answered the phone by singing, "No bananas! I have no bananas for you today my friend! No!"

From the mailbox: Why my dad rocks.

I received the following message from my dad:

By the way, you can say it with meaning "My dad's picking me up".

I will be there, just give me 14 hours.

For condiments, you can sprinkle in "my brother Steve, the Adam's-apple-crusher, or my other brother Joe, the tooth-re arranger-but-I'm-not-an-Orthodontist", or both of them may be coming too.

Have fun.

(Thanks for always being someone I can rely on!)

If you want to attract guys, rub McDonalds all over you. Or just carry a bag...

Fanueil Hall is by far my favorite weekend destination. I haven't had a single bad experience in that area, so far.

Friday night, Erin, Meesh and I went to the Green Dragon. It was my first time there. The bouncers were fun, younger guys who called us over to go inside.

Initial reasons this bar was a great choice...

...#1 No line
...#2 Cute and hilarious bouncers
...#3 Awesome bartender

Soon after ordering our beers, the band returned from a break and started playing covers. The Lisa Love Experience was the first female-fronted cover band I've seen so far. She was kick ass. She belted out those tunes with a spunky attitude and crazy dance moves.

Meesh, Erin and I boogeyed and made new friends including some Long Islanders and some Irish, who have apparently invaded Boston. People were dancing so intensely that the floor was shaking and we thought it might fall through. Here's a little video of the band singing a song that reminded us of Noelle.

Eye Spy:

1. A crazy Irish man posing for a picture, completely unaware he was on video
2. The annoying Long Islander who kept following us around
3. The singer (who is not named Lisa) pointing at me while belting it out
   
4. The psychotic, drunk groupie who kept trying to stroke and leap onto the guitarist
   

Sweet cover band at the Green Dragon. from Maria F on Vimeo.


The night ended and we headed to McDonalds to get in on some Walk-Thru Window action. Little did we know....

Erin ordering:





Meesh ravaging her burger:





If you are looking for ways to meet men, walk around with a McDonalds bag in hand. We were approached by literally every guy on the street. Everyone wanted a fry. Some really went over-board. We were trying to hail a cab and some 30-somethings came over begging for food and talking to us. One reached in Michelle's bag for a fry and instead pulled out her entire burger. We all started screaming as he devoured over a quarter of the sandwich in one bite. He ran away, mouth full, as I screamed I'd stab him with my heel.

We decided to relocate because no cabs were stopping. Two guys were walking up the Government Center stairs behind us, asking for fries.

Us: Go away.
Guy: Can I have a fry?
Us: No. We are never getting McDonalds again.
Guy: Come on! Where are you guys going, anyways? Where's the party?
Me: I'm not sure... my dad's coming to pick us up right now.

WELL! That is the best defense mechanism ever because he scattered faster than Chris running from dogs.


THEME OF THE YEAR #37: Compiling good lines to make guys go away.

1. My dad's picking me up.
2. No thank you, sir. (Noelle)
3. Why don't you give ME your number and then maybe I'll call later. (Tara)
4. Keep moving! (Erin)
5. Surprise transvestite costume (Katie)
   

Saturday was even more eventful so I'll write about it later.

Sleep tight, kids.

Parents Weekend: Wrap-Up

Now wrapping up Parents Weekend coverage...


... So my family moves around quite a bit. When I came to BU they were still living in Zurich, Switzerland. Over the past two years they have moved to Columbus, Indiana and, currently, Detroit, Michigan. This mobility made it difficult for the entire family to be in one location at the same time.


UNTIL NOW!!! MUAHAHA.


Parents Weekend was awesome. I spent several days cleaning and decorating so my mother didn't think I was living in squalor. (And because the apartment needed it... bad.)

Friday afternoon they arrived. Earlier that day I decided to host a pizza party so my friends could meet my family. My family arrived and my friends waited in the room while I retrieved them from the lobby. All my favorite people in one place! It was great.

While Steve, Joe and I picked up four large pizzas from T Anthony's, my friends regaled my parents with tales of my (apparently) good dancing while intoxicated, Xena costume from last year and other fun college memories. In return, my mother shared every embarrassing nickname she's designated my brothers and I. They will not be repeated.

We laughed. We ate pizza. We watched the sun set from the 10th floor. It was beautiful.

Later that evening my family and I went to the BU hockey game. I got five tickets in the student section. I knew my dad would love it but I was skeptical about the rest of the pack. Lucking, everyone enjoyed themselves, especially watching the student section mock the opponents relentlessly.

My dad joined in on many of the cheers, including the one where the announcer calls the names of the opposing starting line and the student section turns their backs to the ice, circling and pointing at the players screaming, "SUCKS!" after their names are called.

Mom thought the "sieve" chants were funny, especially since one kid had an actual sieve that he held up whenever the goalie let one in.

My brothers thought the "ugly goalie" chant was hilarious especially since the opposing goalie got so upset that he cut his drink short to put down his mask and slam down his waterbottle, caving to the pressure.

After the game, mom and dad left while Steve and Joe and I hung out in my room. Everyone came over and we engaged in some responsible icebreaker games, specifically Beirut and Landmines. This was more challenging for some than others.

Enjoy this short video where Brian wins the Special Olympics, Jess displays her true inner Asian-ness, Steve lets out a family secret and Christina is her normal awkward self.


Untitled from Maria F on Vimeo.

Everyone left the room at about 2:30ish at which point I made about 6 quesadillas, two bagels and cleaned the entire apartment... again.

After the boys demolished the food declaring mine the best quesadillas they ever tasted, they passed out, each on a couch. Steve was on the short one so I put my comforter on the floor, made him move and tucked them both in. So precious.

SATURDAY WE...

...went to lunch at the Hyatt. I booked a window seat so we could watch the Head of the Charles Regatta. It was a beautiful day so we took some family pictures. They will undoubtedly be sent out in Christmas cards.





...went to he Pumpkin Festival. I got lost so we took the scenic route meaning we got off at Boylston, walked through the park in the wrong direction, walked back through the park in the correct direction and then walked to Government Center. Family bonding. You know.

There were a lot of pumpkins.... Not much else to say about that. We walked through Fanueil indulging in some delicous desserts.




Thus concluded Parents Weekend. Mom and dad drove Steve and I to Worcester so I could stay the night before his tournament. We parted ways until Christmas.

My friends all agreed they like my brothers better than me. I'd have to agree with them. My brothers are pretty awesome. (You too, parentals.)

Thanks for coming Family Unit!!! Good times.

(...Even though I had to sit bitch every time we drove somewhere.)

Timbaland and I write a song to tell J to back off.

While we're still playing catch-up, let's go back to Thursday real quick.

J had asked me to hang out with him Thursday night but I didn't feel like it so... I told him no. And then, because my name is Maria, he showed up at An Tua Nua. FANtastic.

J: You didn't expect to see me here did you?
Maria: Oh! No... I'm just here having a beer with my friends. I'm not staying long.
J: Cool. So. That movie we saw the other night...

At this point I stealthily escaped by gliding toward some people I recognized. He hovered a little and eventually I moved away completely.

I may have forgotten to mention that J is over 6 feet tall so he's a little hard to miss. All my friends, naturally, thought his presence was hilarious because they love seeing me suffer.

Later that night, I noticed him standing in a near-by corner. Watching me. I was talking to a guy. J was staring. Just standing there staring. I don't know where his friends were. I don't know what he thought was going to happen. But I alerted my friends who, apparently, had already noticed.

By now, the Red Sox (I'm sorry I have to mention it...) had come back from their 7 point loss so everyone was anxiously watching the game. J stood three feet behind me as Tara offered to pretend to be my lesbian lover and Sebastian made fun of him and made fun of me for being associated with him. Unfortunately, it was too late for the I'm-with-my-roommate defense.

The Red Sox won, Drop Kick Murphys roared in the background and I jumped around with Ali. Even Erin got into it. Noelle and Christina, however, were angry and continued shouting, "Tampa, Tampa."

J walked over and went in for a celebration hug. I relocated. J came back.

J: So much for that one beer, huh?
Maria: ... this is still my first, actually.
J: So, do you ever want to hang out again? Because I'd like to see you again but it doesn't seem like you want that too...
Maria:.... I mean... I don't know what to say. I'm just here having a beer with my friends...
J: Well, would you want to hang out next week?
Maria: Seriously I can't plan in advance. I have a bunch of projects and a ton of homework and I can't tell you for sure when we're meeting or what I'll be doing....

This fizzled out eventually.

Ok look. I'm not an asshole. Everything I said was true. I have group projects and a lot of homework. I have a full course load and work three days a week. My free time is precious.

If he had a personality that didn't resemble a TV screen I would be more than willing to hang out with him. But if he's just going to follow me around all night and talk about the same dumb movie we saw over a week ago.... I don't have time for that.

MORE OVER. He actually introduced himself to my friends. Can you believe that shit? If I want you to meet my friends, I will introduce you to my friends. DO NOT waltz over and start asking who is my roommate and introducing yourself. Your presence is noticed. People can see your head poking out of the crowd glaring and shooting the death glare while I joke around with my guy friends.

My mom said I should give him a chance, that he's just shy. I think two dates is enough chance to give. If I leave both dates trying to justify spending more time with him, that's a bad thing.

Strike One: Asking me to see Beverley Hills Chihuahua
Strike Two: Trying to corner me to achieve a good night kiss
Strike Three: Following me around a bar and introducing yourself to my friends.


So Timbaland and I wrote this song to express my feelings toward J. I have provided a video with the words. Feel free to play on repeat and sing along.

Parents Weekend: Brazilian Jiu Jitsu

So much happened this weekend. Let's start from today...


My brother, Steve, has been training in Worcester with Team Link, a team started by UFC champ Gabriel Gonzaga, for a while. Today was the first time I've watched Steve fight. It was awesome.

We arrived at Ludlow High School early so Steve could weigh in with the rest of the fighters. I watched as each fighter approached the scale. Some were fully clothed while others weighed in wearing nothing but their tighty-whiteys and coats of chest fur. Weights ranged from about 50 to over 200.

Prior to arriving at the gym, Steve calmly informed me that if something went wrong and he broke something, it would be difficult for us to get back to Worcester since I don't drive stick.... Apparently at his previous match, he heard a pop that he thought was a man hitting the ground but turned out to be a man snapping his upper arm in half. I prepared for the worst.

Two of Steve's friends and I watched the gi round, which Steve fought twice in, scoring silver.



In the no-gi round, Steve again fought twice and received silver. The no-gi matches were insane. Here is Steve dominating for a little over 4 minutes. His take-down at 3:39 is awesome. You can hear his coach, Marco Alvan, talking about how great the match is.



After he was finished fighting, Yai and Angelo waddled over to us. We had no idea they were watching the matches. Yai is such a stealth master.



This was a fantastic tournament. Both of my brothers are talented fighters and I can't wait to watch them kick ass again next time.



I'm going to go find someone to beat up now...

Time for Politics With Maria

McCain getting frisky.





...


Things People Googled During the Last Presidential Debate:






...





If this picture isn't moving, click below...
via

If I were Barack Obama...

... for Halloween.

TechCrunch told me that Obama Halloween masks are outselling McCain masks 57% to 43%. Maybe I should join the party. Then Ali (slash Sarah Palin) and I can squander over economic policies and Russia all night when not hunting for needlessly exposed girls to mock relentlessly.

Ooh this could be good.

Marack Obama: Part male, part female, part black, part white, part presidential candidate, part collegiate intern. It's like a Halloween miracle! Or nightmare...

Uh oh...

I feel one of those Saved By The Bell dream-cloud-other-dimension-experience arising...

(Marack and the girls in Boston...)

(Marack and the family at a Red Wings game...)

(Marack pre-shotgun in Ann Arbor...)

(Marack being strangled by a Korean on a roof...)

(Marack being dipped...)

.

Here's a thought...

The Dallas Stars are picking a fight. I wonder if the Red Wings will retaliate at all? Mmm hockey fights.




I wish funny things like this would happen on my flights.

My flight was being served by an obviously gay flight attendant, who seemed to put everyone in a good mood as he served us food and drinks. As the plane prepared to descend, he came swishing down the aisle and told us that “Captain Marvey has asked me to announce that he’ll be landing the big scary plane shortly, so lovely people, if you could just put your trays up, that would be super.” On his trip back up the aisle, he noticed this well-dressed and rather Arabic looking woman hadn’t moved a muscle. “Perhaps you didn’t hear me over those 20 big brute engines but I asked you to raise your trazy-poo, so the main man can pitty-pat us on the ground.” She calmly turned her head and said, “In my country, I am called a Princess and I take orders from no one.” To which (I swear) the flight attendant replied, without missing a beat, “Well, sweet- cheeks, in my country I’m called a Queen, so I outrank you. Tray-up, Bitch.”

Something I didn't know about the Olympics but that is still interesting:

[Choi Jeong] designed the large scale installation that surrounds the jamsil olympic stadium for the seoul design olympiad. choi created the installation using various types of plastic products such as milk containers, water bottles and crates. here are more images of the installation.

I feel bad for any non-college residents in the area.

UGH HALLOWEEN.

The frenzy has begun. Four of my friends have purchased their Halloween costumes but, like every other year, I will be leaving my costume in the hands of fate.

Freshman year I was nothing, sophomore year I was a pirate (I had a parrot attached to my shoulder and a kick ass challice) and last year I was Xena Warrior Princess. Who knows what this year will bring.

If I were crafty and could find a giant Cookie Monster, I'd be the Cookie Monster Slayer.

If I were a man I'd be Borat-at-the-beach.

But, alas, I am neither.

One of my friends suggested we all be Britney Spears at various stages of her life. I shottied Mental Breakdown Britney.

Of course going bald would be terrifying and unattractive and people might confuse me for a deranged man but HEY! At least I wouldn't be confused with the mass hordes of slutty BU hos traipsing around on All Hallow's Eve!

Funny and Memorable Text Messages From People I Know

Sept 18 Drew: So have you raped any freshmen boys yet? [The answer is a resounding no.]

Sept 22 Noelle: Divas are expensive!

Sept 22 Topher: Hey all. I have six pounds of ham in the oven. Please come over and invite friends roomies coworkers. It will be done at six.

Sept 24 Noelle: Go to the snack room and reenergize girl! You can't be lagging when you see couch boy!

Sept 24 Anonymous: Please it's called college. If my manly bits had a stock I'd say buy.

Sept 24 Drew: You should shit on them. Literally.

Sept 24 Noelle: That Cranberry Farms didn't sit so well.

Sept 25 Drew: Any poop issues today? We're still getting dinner right?

Sept 25 Drew: How's J Tree? Getting pooped on?

Sept 26 Drew: I think of them like mad libs. Just fill in the blanks. Recently I like the word poo.

Sept 29 Mom: Missy Misserina! Do you want to come home for Thanksgiving?

Sept 30 Noelle: I hate when old ppl yell at me it makes me feel so bad.

Oct 2 Noelle: Hahaha time to get bizzay.

Oct 4 Dave: Isn't his skin soft?

Oct 5 Joe: Yea it might be hard to be attracted to someone eating out of a straw in a few weeks.

Oct 5 Joe: Giggidy giggidy giggidy. Feel free to give all the hot ones my number.

Oct 6 Noelle: Oh my god girl I hope you're feeling better. Tara told me how Jess tried to kill you.

Oct 7 Tara: I love it when you talk dirty to me.

Oct 9 Anonymous: Hunnilamb I took an adderall today so I'm not hungry. But sure, I 'll meechu then.

Oct 9 Drew: If you were going out where? Gay tree?

Oct 10 Noelle: Thanks dumpling, have a fantastic weekend. S'agapo poli.





...Anyone have any funny texts in their inboxes right now???

Maybe it's the food poisoning...

...but someone get me Henry Cavill and a layer of vegetation, STAT!

This CNET article describes the phenomenon surrounding my rapidly increasing phone bill. Americans (such as Maria) are sending more texts than they are making phone calls. I need to get a hold of Verizon and change my plan because my phone bill doubled this month solely due to texting. Is that even possible? I guess I have to entertain myself somehow during Cultural Anthro.

The next time I'm mad at any of you, I'm sending Jess to poison your chicken. Someone's got it out for me. Today was my first time ever having food poisoning. My dad sent me this article about a recent salmonella outbreak. Cook your chicken people! I already told Jess next time I cook her dinner it will be sprinkled with ExLax or something equally uncomfortable.

The upside to being sick was that between vomitting sessions I was able to catch up on season one of The Tudors, which my roommate Ali happens to have on DVD. CAUTION: This Showtime series is extremely addicting (probably due to all the good looking men). The story line differs greatly from The Other Boleyn Girl, which scarred me with controversial topics such as incest.

When not vomitting or drooling over Henry Cavill and Jonathan Rhys Meyers, I caught up on some very interesting reading in the Wall Street Journal, which I get delivered to my dorm because I’m smart like that Professor Nowak makes me. Basically we should all seriously consider adding a layer of vegetation on top of buildings. Not only is it super sweet but it is good for the environment and could potentially save some of those tax dollars.

In 2001, Chicago Mayor Richard Daley, inspired by a trip to Hamburg, Germany, decided to cover about 20,000 square feet of the roof atop Chicago's City Hall. City officials in Chicago now estimate that their green roof saves the city about $3,600 a year in cooling and heating costs. If all of Chicago's roofs were greened, they add, the city's peak energy demand could be cut by 720 megawatts -- enough electricity for 750,000 people. The load on the city's storm-sewer system, meanwhile, would be slashed by about 70%.

In other news, we may have a problem. J wants to see a movie this week. What movie did he suggest? Out of all the movies in theaters? Beverly Hills Chihuahua. Yea. Did I mention I hate dogs? Great.

He suggested this movie and then read me the synopsis over the phone. I did not respond enthusiastically. He took the hint and said he was just kidding. Was he though?

He was either A) trying to choose a movie he thought I'd like (even though I spent several hours enjoying watching men beat each other to a bloody pulp with him Saturday), B) seriously just kidding and we simply don't get each other's sense of humor or C) truly hoping to go see this new Disney masterpiece mess up. I'm not sure which is worse but I will wallop him if he tries to make me see a romantic comedy starring a bedazzle dog.

Weekend Update: Dating is not dead.

Just when I was starting to give up hope on single life in Boston, I met a genuinely nice guy who surprised me and proved that people still go on dates.

So last weekend I met this guy at Jake Ivory's. Let's call him J. We talked the whole night, made fun of people, danced a little... It was a good time. The bar closed and he asked for my number, so I gave it to him and by Thursday he had asked me out on a date.

I told my mom about this date and felt the repercussions shortly thereafter. My dad sent me an e-mail with a subject line, "So, he's interested in my daughter now, is he?" and with two attachments, the Rules for Dating my Daughter and the Application to Date my Daughter, which I re-posted below. The same day, I received the following text from my youngest brother:

"Maria. Tell J to watch his back when I'm there cause I built a special shank that has his name written all over it."

Saturday rolled around and J brought me to Joshua Tree for some drinks. Totally different experience going on a night other than Thursday, when the bar is usually full of the same BU kids you see every Thursday. We got a table, ordered some drinks and talked about life. UFC matches were on and Murilo Rua (who's photo below some of you may recognize from my desktop) and Andrei Arlovski were fighting so I was happy. Of course the only person most of the people cared about was Kimbo Slice who lost after about 10 seconds. Didn't even get to put up a fight. It was extremely disappointing. But I digress.




That was a great first date for me. We hung out, drank some beers and watched some fighting. He drove me home and asked if I would want to hang out again. I said no. His face dropped as he said, "...what?" which I followed up with, ".. just kidding.." Mom said it was too early to joke. I can't help it though. The situation was tense and I needed to break it up a little. So I guess if I didn't scare him we may go on another date. Or something. Who knows.

On my way home, Joe and I had the following exchange of texts:

Maria: I'm back from my date. We watched the Kimbo Slice match at a bar.
Joe: How'd he do?
Maria: He lost in ten f-ing seconds it was ridiculous. His eye got split open.
Joe: Not Kimbo bitch. The kid you went with.

This morning I received the following e-mail from my father:

Well, where are the completed forms? The review committee has been waiting since last night to begin the evaluation!

The committee decided I am allowed to go on a second date, so stay tuned...



In other news.

Friday was fantastic. Erin, Katie and I went to go see Beautiful Lies play at Berklee. I hadn't seen Dave play in a while so that was fun. After the show we went to Phil's apartment to party with the band. We kept hitting our heads on underwear hanging from some hangers. The undies were either not dry or decoration supplemental to a Bill Cosby sweater and random squirrel figurines propped up on speakers and sinks.

I always forget how much I hate gin. It tastes like Christmas. But instead of leaving presents, all you get in the morning is a raging hangover. Damn you Katie!

The quote of the night occurred while Katie, four of the boys and I were squashed in the kitchen taking shots.

Katie: What would your personal physical manifestation of weather be? Mine is drizzly.
(Silence)
Maria: ... Thunder and lightening.

Love those boys.

Saturday after the date I met Noelle and Christina at Tequila Rain. It was pretty fun. A group of guys started talking to us. One was wearing a Tap Out shirt so I asked if he watched the match earlier that night. He said yes and that he was an MMA fighter himself so we talked about fighint for the rest of the night. Saturday made me want to go watch my brothers fight. Hopefully that will happen some time soon.

Noelle stole the hat of one of the fighter's friends and danced around throwing up signs like she was part of the Korean Killers.




The bar shut down and hat-boy, who Noelle named Jersey even though he was from Florida, ran to say goodbye to us and slipped and fell flat on his ass. We had to tell Noelle today that the kid actually fell and was not break dancing. Poor girl felt cheated.

As we exited Tequila Rain, Noelle shouted,

"WELL! We sure got our money's worth!"

Via My Dad: Application For Permission To Date My Daughter

Application for Permission to Date My Daughter

APPLICATION FOR PERMISSION TO DATE MY DAUGHTER

NOTE: This application will be incomplete and rejected unless

accompanied by a complete financial statement, job history, lineage,

and current medical report from your doctor.

NAME_____________________________________ DATE OF BIRTH_____________

HEIGHT___________ WEIGHT____________ IQ__________ GPA_____________

SOCIAL SECURITY #_________________ DRIVERS LICENSE #________________

BOY SCOUT RANK AND BADGES____________________________________________

HOME ADDRESS_______________________ CITY/STATE___________ ZIP______

Do you have parents? ___Yes ___No

Is one male and the other female? ___Yes ___No

If No, explain:

______________________________________________________________

Number of years they have been married ______________________________

If less than your age, explain

______________________________________________________________

______________________________________________________________

ACCESSORIES SECTION:

A. Do you own or have access to a van? __Yes __No

B. A truck with oversized tires? __Yes __No

C. A waterbed? __Yes __No

D. A pickup with a mattress in the back? __Yes __No

E. A tattoo? __Yes __No

F. Do you have an earring, nose ring, __Yes __No

pierced tongue, pierced cheek or a belly button ring?

(IF YOU ANSWERED "YES" TO ANY OF THE ABOVE, DISCONTINUE APPLICATION

AND LEAVE PREMISES IMMEDIATELY. I SUGGEST RUNNING.)

ESSAY SECTION:

In 50 words or less, what does "LATE" mean to you?

______________________________________________________________

______________________________________________________________

In 50 words or less, what does "DON'T TOUCH MY DAUGHTER" mean to you?

______________________________________________________________

______________________________________________________________

In 50 words or less, what does "ABSTINENCE" mean to you?

______________________________________________________________

______________________________________________________________

REFERENCES SECTION:

Church you attend ___________________________________________________

How often you attend ________________________________________________

When would be the best time to interview your:

father? _____________

mother? _____________

pastor? _____________

SHORT-ANSWER SECTION:

Answer by filling in the blank. Please answer freely, all answers

are confidential.

A: If I were shot, the last place I would want shot would be:

______________________________________________________________

B: If I were beaten, the last bone I would want broken is my:

______________________________________________________________

C: A woman's place is in the:

______________________________________________________________

D: The one thing I hope this application does not ask me about is:

______________________________________________________________

E. What do you want to do IF you grow up? ___________________________

______________________________________________________________

______________________________________________________________

F. When I meet a girl, the thing I always notice about her first is:

______________________________________________________________

F. What is the current going rate of a hotel room? __________________

I SWEAR THAT ALL INFORMATION SUPPLIED ABOVE IS TRUE AND CORRECT TO

THE BEST OF MY KNOWLEDGE UNDER PENALTY OF DEATH, DISMEMBERMENT,

NATIVE AMERICAN ANT TORTURE, CRUCIFIXION, ELECTROCUTION, CHINESE

WATER TORTURE, RED HOT POKERS, AND HILLARY CLINTON KISS TORTURE.

_________________________________________________________

Applicant's Signature (that means sign your name, moron!)

_______________________________ ________________________________

Mother's Signature Father's Signature

_______________________________ ________________________________

Pastor/Priest/Rabbi State Representative/Congressman

Thank you for your interest, and it had better be genuine and

non-sexual. Please allow four to six years for processing.

You will be contacted in writing if you are approved. Please do

not try to call or write (since you probably can't, and it would

cause you injury). If your application is rejected, you will be

notified by two gentleman wearing white ties carrying violin cases.

(you might watch your back)

Via My Dad: Rules for Dating My Daughter

See especially rules 4, 6, 8 and 10.

Daddy's Rules for Dating

Your dad's rules for your boyfriend (or for you if you're a guy):

Rule One:

If you pull into my driveway and honk you'd better be delivering a package, because you're sure not picking anything up.

Rule Two:

You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off of my daughter's body, I will remove them.

Rule Three:

I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don't take this as an insult, but you and all of your friends are complete idiots. Still, I want to be fair and open minded about this issue, so I propose this compromise: You may come to the door with your underwear showing and your pants ten sizes too big, and I will not object. However, in order to ensure that your clothes do no, in fact come off during the course of your date with my daughter, I will take my electric nail gun and fasten your trousers securely in place to your waist.

Rule Four:

I'm sure you've been told that in today's world, sex without utilizing a "Barrier method" of some kind can kill you. Let me elaborate, when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you.

Rule Five:

It is usually understood that in order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word I need from you on this subject is: "early."

Rule Six:

I have no doubt you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it is okay with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date no one but her until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry.

Rule Seven:

As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process than can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don't you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car?

Rule Eight:

The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: Places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool. Places where there is darkness. Places where there is dancing, holding hands, or happiness. Places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose down parka - zipped up to her throat. Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which features chain saws are okay. Hockey games are okay. Old folks homes are better.

Rule Nine:

Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a potbellied, balding, middle-aged, dimwitted has-been. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless god of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with whom, you have one chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.

Rule Ten:

Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a chopper coming in over a rice paddy near Hanoi. When my Agent Orange starts acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull into the driveway you should exit the car with both hands in plain sight. Speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early, then return to your car - there is no need for you to come inside. The camouflaged face at the window is mine.