tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68132549667576487712024-03-05T15:49:23.576-05:00meet me at the mirror.a chronicle of the adventures, interactions and thoughts of one college chronicler.MariaSophiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08292747915974314030noreply@blogger.comBlogger240125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813254966757648771.post-86688236846146733082009-08-12T21:47:00.003-04:002009-08-12T22:21:39.955-04:00Texts that...<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, -webkit-fantasy;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, -webkit-fantasy;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">... give advice and encouragement - </span></b></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, -webkit-fantasy;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, fantasy; "><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>MEESH</b> <i>7/8</i>: Yay! Get rid of that pollution girl.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, -webkit-fantasy;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, fantasy; "><b>JESS V</b> <i>8/8</i>: Girl you should try to casually bump into his big muscles and tell him that they got in your way :)</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, -webkit-fantasy;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, -webkit-fantasy;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">... are life -</span></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, fantasy;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>JESS R <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">7/7</span></i></b>: I hope in return you ordered a No-Chance-In-Hell martini.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>ALI</b> <i>7/17</i>: So I changed [<i>redacted</i>]'s name in my phone to "heinous bitch" and every time I see it it makes me giggle like a little school girl.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>ANONYMOUS</b> <i>7/26</i>: This... for once... this late... is not a creepy sext message.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>JOE</b> <i>7/27</i>: On the way, Rampage.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>ALI</b> <i>8/2</i>: Rachel is drinking beer through a Twizzler.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>ALEX</b> <i>8/9</i>: Dan Marino, your boyfriend from the Tap, asked for you.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, -webkit-fantasy;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, fantasy;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></span></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, fantasy;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">... predict the future -<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px; font-weight: normal; "> </span></span></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, -webkit-fantasy;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, fantasy; font-weight: normal; "><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>NOHN</b><i> 8/7</i>: New future slash blog: Noelle and Maria v. Food</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, -webkit-fantasy;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, fantasy; "><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>ERIN</b> <i>8/10</i>: We're moving to the village. At transgender bingo right now.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>ANONYMOUS</b> <i>8/11</i>: It's destiny, Maria. Maybe not anytime soon. But we're going to get married.</span></div></span></span></div></span></b></span></div></div>MariaSophiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08292747915974314030noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813254966757648771.post-55341225662403732402009-08-10T22:11:00.006-04:002009-08-11T01:45:00.137-04:00My, how we've grown.<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, fantasy;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, fantasy;"><br /></span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">It's funny how fast things change.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Not three months have passed since Erin and I began planning our book on how to survive college with enticing chapters such as, "What to tell your parents when you're still drunk at noon" and "How to survive an Irish crack den." <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><i>[Don't worry, dad. These chapter titles are hyperbolized.]</i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">One of the best nights of senior year was Erin's birthday. Our friends came to our apartment where we danced to 90s music, played games and managed to break half our dishes and glasses. Erin, exhausted from the festivities and excitement, fell asleep early. We decided to take advantage of the situation by expressing our love for her. In permanent marker. All over her body. The pictures mysteriously disappeared but it looked something like this, except she was wearing a shirt and we stuffed random playing cards in her clothes:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 196px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHlyo-mYmORXsRfPBU378KkoUNI7-WHcqHDc6GCFfhqkUgeIPyx8Ru1hXTIDnlzy-P429JwC1DyT1ManFwJyZXF6hXBFGvv3azwPT6P_A3GL-IWNr45OuKXD-f8uwc_5Q2uwKsOnZSBLM/s320/Permanent+marker+suit.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5368574577468201906" /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">It seemed like a good idea at the time. We didn't really take into consideration her morning commute to Long Island. Fate mocked her by loading the ferry with inquisitive nuns. Just more proof that our senior year was probably scripted.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Cut to this weekend. The girls of Ann Arbor decided to have a goodbye party involving several popular college drinking games fueled by a keg on the porch. The obligatory "food run" at 2 am lead two of us to Panchero's, where we were told to order two burritos for a straggler. When we returned, said person was asleep on a futon in the basement. Naturally, we decided to pelt the burritos at his face. Luckily, the beans and rice sprinkling out of the the collapsing burrito and onto his face did not disturb his sleep.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">That was enough for me. I climbed over a web of high school boys giggling at Dumb and Dumber to claim my couch for the night. My partners in crime decided to dole out some more punishment. They grabbed a dry erase marker and returned to the basement with plans to defile Sleeping Beauty.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Tagger One</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">: Dude, don't draw on his face. He has work tomorrow.</span></div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Tagger Two</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">: Ok... Let's get his ear.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">And so in that moment, <b><i>Life After Graduation</i></b> was defined. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Whereas before we would have dismissed the threats of humiliation and punishment as irrelevant, we now hesitate to hide even two small dots in our drunken friend's ear, fearing the repercussions ushered in with the dawn. Whereas before we would celebrate milestones by staying awake until hours past sunrise, we now consider midnight a feat.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">The next morning I woke up under a pile of cushions. I couldn't find a blanket so I burrowed in the crevice of the couch. After determining that there was, in fact, a human being under all those cushions, one of the guys proclaimed, "Well, kids. I can honestly say I'm glad I'm not in college anymore."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">I don't know if I agree with him but I do know that that was the most comfortable couch I have ever slept in.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, -webkit-fantasy;">Farewell, Packard house. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, -webkit-fantasy;">Farewell, reckless [permanent marker] abandon.</span></div>MariaSophiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08292747915974314030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813254966757648771.post-3553193812821314552009-08-05T00:32:00.003-04:002009-08-05T00:39:33.681-04:00We talk in code<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, -webkit-fantasy;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, fantasy;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Conversation greetings with Mark often last several minutes and involve intricate puzzles and tricky decoding.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, fantasy;"><br /></span></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 218px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV53TurEZe8WhEzUJ26ETBfEvIsu5xFpTdypSeKSlCHL5h3lGpOkBZZjCb9CbSVCZLJh4QDfUmDQTxAjjmJvtLBPK5QhLbOF2M7lr5V9k8cBMEhkV7D0JUKpBT7CKSb_cNdgXx8ihiqMs/s400/Mark+chillin+like+a+villain.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5366334684368852514" /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSvM_lMHZk4eWCsXqsxnmcN8OPSMiWQ31KQHgjs6ITJrAJXWPJaxcuU8l__NnU2ppczfo7H0sE3zroj6FBRv6M_UZ6tZhzbWtI9pfguXHR9G5x3-D-DVAPjNlXGc6IN4Uel6TqqW5JN1A/s1600-h/Mark+chillin+like+a+villain.jpg" style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=""><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></span></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>MariaSophiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08292747915974314030noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813254966757648771.post-35433555735357626382009-08-02T23:09:00.005-04:002009-08-03T00:11:47.682-04:00Infiltrating your earbuds starting...<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, -webkit-fantasy;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, fantasy;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">I've selfishly guarded my brilliant idea for long enough. I'm never going to make it alone anyway. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Fearing that this will only prove the terrifying extent of my nosiness I would like to share with you an invention I hope to one day enjoy.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Presenting: <b>Maria's Super Sound Spy. Device. Thing.</b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">I realized I needed to develop this further when I was at the gym the other day. I was working the elliptical and jamming out to a screamy playlist I made to pump Joe up before wrestling meets when something in my peripheral scope stole my attention. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">It was the guy on the elliptical next to me; he was shimmying rather violently with a scowl on his face. And by shimmying I mean the dance move I was forced to perform to Love Shack in 5th grade. And by scowl I mean the look I gave to no one in particular when the neighbor's brand new dog woke me with it's depressed howl this morning.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Back to the point. How on earth do you shimmy with a scowl? I mean, who isn't happy when they're shimmying? If anything, he should have fallen off his machine when his uncontrollable jazz hands popped up and threw off his balance. What could this man possibly have been playing on his iPod to provoke such dance moves/involuntary twitches?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Perhaps some kind of up-beat gangster rap? Some kind of disco/death-metal mash-up? I'm not really sure. In general I think it's wise to avoid confronting scowling shimmyers, so I never asked.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">This is why I need someone to develop <b>Maria's Super Sound Spy. Device. Thing.</b> When pointed at an iPod, the device will pick up whatever the person is listening to. It's not always on because that would be annoying. It's point-and-click activated. Also, it should come with a blocker so that I can occasionally listen to embarrassing music like Burnin Up by the Jonas Brothers without the tattooed hottie at the gym judging me.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">But that option will only be available to me. Obviously.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, -webkit-fantasy;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10px; white-space: pre; "><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/PFYl02NK6pw&hl=en&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/PFYl02NK6pw&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object></span></span></div>MariaSophiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08292747915974314030noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813254966757648771.post-27905376433539424702009-07-31T23:38:00.002-04:002009-07-31T23:39:29.986-04:00A brief review of Funny People...<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">... by my little cousin, Nick.</span><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 302px; height: 299px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEfPaVF-UUDIpPfr882TXz8Kku_aaqnvtIMdKAqRIED_RZVkubmLiAuljc69C-nyLTIG41Hbhat1uuY-YXx9c5KlRZWkUccbG6CIwYjnkEOsP6Te4_kIm2Rf-HpE5AoiCD7tEcsPJYSXg/s320/llGdDMOaUqlc87ucEUjEbJHUo1_400.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364834759496088114" /></div><div><br /></div>MariaSophiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08292747915974314030noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813254966757648771.post-44315014389452797702009-07-27T11:01:00.007-04:002009-07-27T12:22:15.968-04:00The lowest lows, the highest highs.<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">In return for his friendship, I am providing Joe with a necessary education on life. Can you believe he's never heard of Missed Connections?!</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, fantasy;"><br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><img style="text-align: left;display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw_iFlfkZydhqyvreXH5_riw5IyTGht5lN3qhYFEEil70BeOZrPNKHdxz5eoXFhK-Zs_1rvJKP6dKWEl068efsSmMznzyGkzYneBO47gpibgEFhCtvv7Jt-JD-hhBt2JzEQoiCtayHeXs/s320/S5003995.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363174302777309330" /></span><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Last night, he and I went to see Incubus. It was my second time seeing them. The first was about 5 years ago in Zurich. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">The concert, my first in Michigan, was at the DTE Energy Music Theatre. We had VIP tickets, which allowed us to park in a special lot. Little did I know, people in Michigan tailgate concerts. I'm talking lawn chairs, frisbees, grills and coolers. There was a football game in the parking lot. I see the appeal of tailgating, but clearly live under a rock. In Boston, we didn't drive anywhere. We didn't tailgate concerts. My single tailgating experience occurred before a hockey game in New Hampshire where we grilled in a parking structure and drank from a keg Sean brought in the back of a van. I'm new to this.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Joe and I people watched <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(or, more accurately, made fun of everyone in the parking lot)</span></i> while listening to Incubus before the concert. The venue looked like an amusement park. The seating sloped down to a large stage with a banner announcing the 89X 18th Birthday Bash. <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(My dad lovingly pointed out that I am older than the radio station. Thanks, dad.)</span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Here is where our education began.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>We learned who The Duke Spirit are</b>. The opening band hailed from London. The singer, a spazztic little blonde girl, danced around frequently taking positions that resembled yoga poses. The band was entertaining. They embellished the typical British grungey-new-rock genre with unique yodels and hoots from the singer. On first listen, the music sounded dark and grimy, which I like. I'll explore them more later.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, -webkit-fantasy;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre; font-family:Arial, sans-serif;font-size:10px;"><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/YmqdXeeYrtY&hl=en&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/YmqdXeeYrtY&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>Joe learned the beauty of Craigslist Missed Connections</b>. A group of girls sat in front of us and Joe claims to have been exchanging unusually meaningful eye contact with one of the girls. I told him he should write a <a href="http://detroit.craigslist.org/mis/">missed connection</a> and see if she responds. He was intrigued by the idea and expressed the desire to draft several humorous MCs to see if people actually respond. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">I've always wanted someone to write one about me, but apparently when I stare intensely at strangers it just creeps them out instead of inspiring them to find me again. Just in case, I wore purple pants yesterday to facilitate an accurate description when my future friend/date decides to search for me.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>I learned that I love my purple pants.</b> I've had them since Christmas. The only exposure they've had was when worn by Joe for 70s day at school. Feeling bold on my big night out, I decided to bring them to Incubus. I broke them in by dancing and thrashing around during the show. It was fantastic. They will be worn again.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, -webkit-fantasy;"><i>The Purple Pants on 70s day at high school:</i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, -webkit-fantasy;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF3GM6Vz6X7p2UeVXezGM8fzRzl_-LD65zXLLXTuGBzfusDOJDrN19En2gA-g1cZo_3WElfQ5_-qVheQAoSVDBDXx0fBK_B31AmhxIJqZf1PdtLB34hN-8yu8dZKkITnefFVCZa1R1Ppw/s320/9504289.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363173120870924002" /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, -webkit-fantasy;"><i>The Purple Pants at Maria's Big Night Out:</i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5FYhdtIC5xZhStIKlXrEaj5M6nEwBDSo6taqMyA7DDG5CUPw8vv3FRtxCKlo_dKhuQXEScDa55ajh_2wL2xAN0_Icp0NUsJaxYC846FB1Xl1DgwbywNFt03u69OMvCanKaqhHtyBo3EU/s320/19728790.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5363172833626004034" /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Incubus was pretty great. They played a lot of old songs, which made me happy. They also played a string of four slow/acoustic songs, which was nice but too slow when played consecutively. Joe and I were disappointed that they played Dig acoustic. We remedied our disappointment by blaring it in the car on the way out of the parking lot. As expected, they did not play the <a href="http://onetofive.tumblr.com/post/149550109/i-hope-they-play-this">two</a> <a href="http://onetofive.tumblr.com/post/149556363/i-hope-they-play-this-too-why-isnt-there-a-good">songs</a> I wanted them to play. It's ok though, because by the end of the show Brandon Boyd was not wearing a shirt. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">It's amazing how versatile a band Incubus is. There were all kinds of people there: little kids, old people, goths, preps, stoners <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(who provided a potent aroma for the entire audience)</span></i> and even, shock horror, guidos. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">And now, the moment you've all <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(slash maybe just I)</span></i> have been waiting for:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">I MADE A FRIEND!!! WHO IS YOUNGER THAN 65!!!</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Before Incubus started, the girl sitting next to me asked if Joe and I were twins. We hit it off. She's my age and wants to be concert buddies! Fantastic! We danced together, enjoyed the music together, laughed together and exchanged numbers.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">All-in-all a fantastic night. Operation: Find Maria Friends is in full effect. And just in time, because Joe won't be around for UFC 101 on August 8th and I do not want to go to the bar alone.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Over and out.</span></div></div></div>MariaSophiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08292747915974314030noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813254966757648771.post-57907649207414945632009-07-21T23:29:00.004-04:002009-07-22T00:08:45.878-04:00Requests<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Michael cracks me up. He can really make friends wherever he goes. </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Case in point: I received an e-mail from my old man yesterday describing his new, exciting relationship with a radio DJ from Michigan State University. Dad was driving when he heard a new song he liked. The DJ announced his request line phone number so my dad called to ask what the song was (</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Come On Come On by the Von Bondies</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">) and request a song (</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">something by Cage the Elephant</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">.) The DJ played the song immediately. Dad called again to thank him and request AFI. The DJ played Girls Not Grey and told a story about his first time hearing the song. Dad called again and requested Billy Talent. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">I mean, seriously. My dad's the man. He ended the e-mail saying, "Yes, I'm a youngster at heart." That phrase dates him more than it should. He doesn't make a very believable 50 year old. (</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">You can pay me later, fat man.</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:100%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre-wrap;font-size:13px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre; font-size:10px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Px6zUe3y7c8&hl=en&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Px6zUe3y7c8&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">I think I need to take this as a lesson and step up my game. I've gone to the gym every day since I registered. The first time I spoke to anyone was yesterday when two women looked at me, perplexed, wondering how to adjust their stationary bike seats. "There's a lever thing," I said pointing beneath their seats.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Here's the thing. I'm a pretty outgoing person in the right environment. I still don't feel comfortable approaching strangers in a gym. I have shared my dilemma with older, wiser acquaintances. Here are their suggestions:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">1) Ask the guy how to use a machine.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">2) Wait until you haven't seen him for a day or two and then approach him and say, "Hey! You haven't been at the gym, what's going on?"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">3) Stare at him until you catch his eye, then smile a lot.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">So clearly, I haven't hit the nail on the head yet. All seem pretty creepy to me. I don't want a pick-up line. I don't want to say anything that could provoke a restraining order. I just want a friend. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Can someone draft up some Wanted signs that I can tape up in the gym?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, -webkit-fantasy;"><i><b>P.S. If you ever decide to try Exercise TV On Demand, BE CAREFUL. Some of those programs are a maximum pain in the gluteus. Burning surges still shoot through my thighs and butt cheeks after the video segment I tried yesterday. Thank God for saunas.</b></i></span></div></div>MariaSophiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08292747915974314030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813254966757648771.post-86560002731068615192009-07-10T20:32:00.005-04:002009-07-11T00:11:47.342-04:00Gyminy Cricket! Maria gets a membership.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKDV8XFC80i8ilFyYlFUEk5SRWQhyphenhyphenRfeZy10CrbKEC1-MQBWiak6rDBg3RkkUfTm1y-GwBQn1w8bNXjJZS6ofGAZQoB8QDFruecXJB1SlZJcX6yfY1czvY17mU0rgc3FJX2pqGtVmyVxA/s1600-h/ymca.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 308px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKDV8XFC80i8ilFyYlFUEk5SRWQhyphenhyphenRfeZy10CrbKEC1-MQBWiak6rDBg3RkkUfTm1y-GwBQn1w8bNXjJZS6ofGAZQoB8QDFruecXJB1SlZJcX6yfY1czvY17mU0rgc3FJX2pqGtVmyVxA/s320/ymca.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357000135276731314" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br />It's true. My funemployment has lead me to explore new horizons, most recently the YMCA. Prior to scouting the facilities, I envisioned being greeted by buff men dressed as police, cowboys and indians. Apparently that's just a rumor. (<i>Or another delusion...</i>)</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Dad accompanied me for moral support. Deciding to join was easy. I can walk from my house (<i>which hasn't happened yet</i>) and it has all the equipment I need (<i>an elliptical and two five pound weights</i>.) I figured this would be a safe place to work out amongst old people and little kids forced to join by their parents. I figured I would be safe from all the hot, buff men I spotted at Joe's gym. Little did I know, the YMCA draws fit, young men and grannies with iPods alike.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">The problem with this situation is that after about six minutes on the elliptical I look like I've been chasing mirages in the Sahara for three weeks. My face turns bright red and glistens under cascades of sweat. My legs show obvious warnings of collapse as they struggle to climb the pedals. It's not pretty. Certainly no condition to be attracting men in.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Today was an exception. One dark, handsome stranger with a tight shirt hugging his sculpted abs decided he either liked the desert-roaming look or needed to make sure I didn't pass out and get a concussion. I noticed him strutting around the room testing the machines behind me. I enjoyed the scenery as I walked to the water fountain trying to look like I'm really in better shape than the 65 year old powering away on the elliptical next to me. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">On my way to the locker room, I noticed the weight room was empty and decided to try some of the exercises Joe taught me. I gathered my five-pounders and assumed the position on a bench in front of a mirror. After six reps I noticed Muscle Man walk by the room. He looked in through the window, stopped, turned around and looked out the parallel window facing the road, then turned 90 degrees walking away from the weight room. Not two minutes later was he walking back toward the weight room. I moved on to crunches and was on rep 60 (<i>or dividend thereof</i>) when all of a sudden Muscle Man was standing literally right over my face. I avoided eye contact. He pretended to look for a weight. He left the room empty handed. Hmmm. I decided to cool off on the treadmill and who should appear on a machine behind me but Muscle Man?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">He's either seriously creepy or really worried about me. Either way, he's very good looking so I'll allow it. For now.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">I repeated the story to my parents when I got home.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>Dad</b>: Did you talk to him?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>Maria</b>: What?! No. I'm not going to pick up a guy in a gym. Or anywhere. (<i>Pours water.</i>) Plus, what am I going to say? "Hey. You come here often?"</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>Mom</b>: Ask him what his zodiac sign is!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Enter flashback to a club in Boston with Noelle. Mom would fit in well on the dance floor.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">[<i>P.S. If you have any good gym pick-up lines, do share. Maybe I'll test them out at the local YM</i><i>CA</i>.]</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, -webkit-fantasy;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" white-space: pre; font-family:Arial, sans-serif;font-size:10px;"><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Bh786IhucF4&hl=en&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Bh786IhucF4&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object></span></span></div>MariaSophiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08292747915974314030noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813254966757648771.post-63073872772980462202009-07-05T19:08:00.006-04:002009-07-05T19:29:03.644-04:00The Rundown<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">It's amazing what you can accomplish in one week. Including, but not limited to:</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Playing in four states (<i>MA, RI, CT, NY</i>)</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Bringing joy to all grandparents (<i>and one aunt</i>)</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Witnessing your brother win third and first place in a big tournament in a casino</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Making new friends and connections</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Sleeping in no less than four different locations</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Mastering two new CDs during travel</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Visiting many (<i>but not al</i><i>l</i>) friends from college and work</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Verbally assaulting friends who have failed to keep in contact</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Swimming in a pool for the first time in two years (<i>and having diving and splashing wars with your brother for the first time in a looong time</i>)</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Observing the zoo that is Long Island and Jones Beach</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Celebrating a holiday</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Jamming to a live band</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Devouring some Dunkin and Uburger</span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Staying out past midnight</span></li></ul><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">... and more. Good times! Steve was a fantastic host. Heading for my last night in Boston then early to the airport for a long day of travel back to D-town.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">I hope the airports have free WIFI like the commuter rail!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip8M3u6hbSZz-wgLqIJIMTTz5cJEUacMPnkYNIhqe4W68Zt7zGyJJuYRL4nPphcAaxFMJcFgesseijldb6dQ_jaAWHNAOXoWlea9kTqDx4Rd3gTFfOGSOU1bptFqYb3_WkZQdd3czJaFQ/s320/Photo+24.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5355121226582848738" /></div>MariaSophiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08292747915974314030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813254966757648771.post-79735992096589012702009-06-26T23:33:00.004-04:002009-06-26T23:56:07.750-04:00On Life After Graduation<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMtwtvvbJpSenJUtYDvLNw8UzZc1kdd3DVjfBOhjyGIzQ2s6denDntbMICsaF50C8U9Yrdw6kgmfnyuiNWmtS722lo5d8XOOB8xyn-kaOflcfL_traIYvWu9o-OlcAC3lJsQ9lurkLarY/s1600-h/Life+after+graduation+and+boat+cruise.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMtwtvvbJpSenJUtYDvLNw8UzZc1kdd3DVjfBOhjyGIzQ2s6denDntbMICsaF50C8U9Yrdw6kgmfnyuiNWmtS722lo5d8XOOB8xyn-kaOflcfL_traIYvWu9o-OlcAC3lJsQ9lurkLarY/s320/Life+after+graduation+and+boat+cruise.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5351851209900410546" /></a><br /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>ROSIE</b> <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(May 20)</span></i> P-p-p-poker face just came on at a lobster sandwich stand in Cape Cod... I have mixed emotions.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>ERIN</b> <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(May 23)</span></i> Home is rehab. I'm watching my friends play whiffle ball... Everyone has to play with beer in hand.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>ALI</b> <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(May 23)</span></i> Oh good god. Splitting a bucket of PBR with my mom, aunt and uncle. What has the world come to?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>MARK</b> <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(May 24)</span></i> I won at the casino again! Suga daddy status remains.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>MARK</b> <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(May 27)</span></i> Oh God. We totally forgot to use protection. Now I have some weird WCTD.*</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">*WCTD = Web cam transmitted disease.</span></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>ERIN</b> <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(May 30)</span></i> You better not be kidnapped.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>CHRIS</b> <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(June 12)</span></i> I'm glad Michigan hasn't corrupted your mind and soul.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>ALI</b> <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(June 12)</span></i> Meesh just awed at a 5 lb rat.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>ALI</b> <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(June 17)</span></i> A 60 year old just took my shoe.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>STEVE</b> <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(June 23)</span></i> Do you think if I sang 'the dogs don't shine in Philly' and you and Joe beat boxed we'd make it [on America's Got Talent]? I'm practicing now.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>JON</b> <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(June 25)</span></i> Answer your phone Michael Jackson is dead!</span></div>MariaSophiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08292747915974314030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813254966757648771.post-15551486847659088112009-06-24T00:27:00.009-04:002009-06-24T01:15:53.756-04:00First person to find me a friend WINS!<div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_iLhumjJKCu22BmUSi1Uhq2K0PszJsFq9CAamwdqFuxzVXtqBGtTXOikg0igLkU1MC5EXFS0TZTa6fTw2OItC3dCZVhKcuLaR5FrSj-TwK2Dc7ncFyqG4uBt-lJsZGd-ySQKkcb7uEYY/s1600-h/be+my+friend.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_iLhumjJKCu22BmUSi1Uhq2K0PszJsFq9CAamwdqFuxzVXtqBGtTXOikg0igLkU1MC5EXFS0TZTa6fTw2OItC3dCZVhKcuLaR5FrSj-TwK2Dc7ncFyqG4uBt-lJsZGd-ySQKkcb7uEYY/s320/be+my+friend.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350753940500445826" /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia, fantasy;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">I have printed a couple hundred copies of the card above. It's time to take drastic measures. [<i>Feel free to print and distribute</i>.]</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Last Saturday, we had another high school graduation party to attend. With each graduation party, the level of embarrassment increases several notches. Here are some scenes from that night.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;"><b>SCENE ONE:</b></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i>(Maria, mom and dad enter the house and fill their plates with food. Mom and dad choose a table outside while Maria retrieves a drink. She plucks a Coke from a big blue cooler and scans the area for her parents. She spots her father taking a seat and approaches the table to discover that the only free chair is at the end of the table across from an elderly couple.)</i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>Maria:</b> <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(whispers to herself)</span></i> Sweet.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i>(Maria occupies the vacant seat facing an elderly man perpendicular to his wife.)</i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>Elderly woman:</b> Oh hello! My name is Judy. Yes, you look like a Maria. I have awesome stories and was one of the first people to ever purchase contact lenses for which I had to take out a loan.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i>(Maria and Judy share stories and giggle with each other until Judy leaves for another party... But not without swapping e-mail addresses with her new best friend.)</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">SCENE TWO:</span></b></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i>(Maria walks across the yard clutching her cold beer thinking to herself, "Thank GOD for liquor.")</i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>Drunk woman:</b> I'm sorry. I have to ask. <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(Quiets to a whisper and squeezes one eye shut)</span></i> How ooold are you?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>Maria:</b> <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(exasperated)</span></i> TWENTY-TWO! I should just start wearing my license around my neck.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i>(Maria continues on her path walking past her brother and his hoodlum wrestling friends.)</i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>Tyler:</b> SHAVE YOUR BEARD!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">SCENE THREE:</span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i>(Maria, mom and dad are standing in a circle with the hostess of the party talking about life.)</i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>Mrs. S:</b> So how's being home?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>Maria:</b> Oh it's nice. Lots of down time.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>Mom:</b> Yea, it's just hard for her because she has no friends here.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>Dad:</b> She went from being in college with all her friends to being here with us. She needs some friends here.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i>(Maria purses her lips and raises her eyebrows. This story has been repeated too many times. She takes a sip from her beer and doesn't notice the wheels spinning inside Mrs. S' head.)</i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, fantasy;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>Mrs. S:</b> <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(grabs Maria's hand and drags her to a circle of six older people.)</span></i> THIS is Maria. She is a wonderful girl who just graduated college and has no friends here. Maria, <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(she points to one woman)</span></i> this is my cousin. She has a very nice son who just graduated Michigan State. Talk to each other.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">(<i>Maria feels awkward conversing with Mrs. S' cousin. Everyone in the circle enjoys the spectacle of a friendless stranger being set up with an absent relative. They laugh often and lean in to hear all about Maria.)</i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>Cousin 1:</b> Well, why don't you give me your number and I'll give it to Tommy for when he comes back!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i>(Maria hands the woman a small piece of torn paper with her name and number on it and scampers away imagining Tommy's laughter when his mom hands him her number. L<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:verdana, -webkit-fantasy;">ater that night, the cousins stand in unison and gather their belongings.)</span></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>Strange man</b>: Did my wife get your number?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho8ko6iTEJF9DFOOWtRiP_mFgtpMGL7woQLcHStywkOyVOGQQAiXbfmoTQqW7tLzaSShXQ8hE2EO4S7v9z8xbqbKFRg_MEOnPAyYKjtIC5vXRzfWz3v8nZ1TZnVjoWlm5mSqujYPOx-GE/s320/get+me+friends.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350753699336937170" />MariaSophiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08292747915974314030noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813254966757648771.post-22241515156466262762009-06-22T17:54:00.015-04:002009-06-22T19:52:06.418-04:00Like father, like daughter.<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">When I was little, my dad used to call my feet pontoons. Apparently they were abnormally large for my size. A couple decades later, his ability to make fun of me using creative nagging techniques has only sharpened. "Moose and I," he chuckles as I struggle to haul my bike up the garage stairs after a long ride. That's not even a fraction of it.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAQzgXPzrUF7eQzRbG3rWEPmoRguM6ZsaPsbCpBNYxD2RNqbQzazZ34fbc21eHqXP_eP7oSzGyATqDvvxDz_a8caDeqONxQpnpQbiAmp-PXxCX3TPUoVdV0ypTyq_3ax60cMelZd1AHDI/s320/with+dad+2.bmp" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350285978680125650" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Dad harassing me from a very young age)</span></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">There are too many great memories, milestones and quirks of my family to list. Nevertheless, I will copy Tara and share a few goodies about my dad in honor of Father's Day.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">......</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">1. If there is ever any mention of a guy in my life <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(which, thanks to my overprotective </span><a href="http://meetmeatthemirror.blogspot.com/2008/11/my-personal-bodyguards-may-need-to-be.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">siblings</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> and an unfortunate abundance of </span><a href="http://meetmeatthemirror.blogspot.com/2008/10/timbaland-and-i-write-song-to-tell-j-to.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">psychos</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> out there, rarely happens)</span></i> my dad has but one important question: Can he skate? Regardless of the answer, Test #1 for any prospective suitor will be doled out in an ice rink with hockey sticks. And probably no pads.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 97px; height: 130px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQe3vVIfBthihhpxMmMUpmNppIyaJjo3WEWJu6EiO8cvwp0C0vF3-yd9h7fw7graEOgEo3qNw5InTTtT_iiYEW4viF2E8VKT1E1LiGwZvpTMoxatP-gh4lVzvJDGLaPkIS5quOU5PTQM8/s320/s919813_42025733_4530.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350285652314115986" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(Dad after a hockey game in winter '08 with one of his</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> leagues.)</span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">2. One of our favorite things to do, especially recently, is <a href="http://meetmeatthemirror.blogspot.com/2009/06/another-day-another-pinched-nerve.html">bike ride</a>. We explore the town, philosophize, people-watch and guess how much houses for sale cost. We also have water fights that usually don't end well for me.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">3. Our favorite game to play is Guess The Song. We compete to see who can name the band and title faster. The date of production factors into who wins but we keep each other on our toes. One Christmas, grandma gave me some of dad's old records and a record player. That's when I discovered Creedence. I haven't been the same since. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, fantasy;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Dad and I have bonded through music since I was two and screaming "mookie!" in my car seat. Since we both appreciate different eras and types of music, I predict this game will last forever.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">4. We are shopping buddies. Dad understands my disdain for shopping in almost any form. I live by his motto that has been repeated to me ad nauseam: <i>Do you love it? Only buy it if you love it.</i> Dad and I are particularly fond of the grocery store. We enjoy discussing any deals or bargains we come by because, after all, no one should pay full price for anything.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">5. We are social. My dad <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">like my mom</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">)</span> loves talking to people. Anyone. Everyone. He wants to know what people are doing, how their day is going, what makes them happy, how he can relate to them. He knows half the neighborhood and a good portion of the city <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">impressive considering he's lived here only two years.</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">) </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, fantasy;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"> Before college I was a pretty shy kid. I hated it when dad made me talk to people. "Speak up!" He'd demand. My first day of orientation at Boston University was horrifying. I knew no one. Didn't know Boston. Had only been to the school once before.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, fantasy;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Dad and grandpa brought me to Rich Hall for orientation. I tried to stall their departure but eventually dad pointed to three kids, told me to go introduce myself and said goodbye. After cursing him in my head and watching him walk away, I slowly walked up to the group of kids. They didn't notice me coming, which made it more awkward. "Are you guys here for orientation?" I asked the kid closest to me as I fiddled with my lanyard. "No," he informed me and turned away. I laughed a little and walked to the cement ledge overlooking Nickerson Field.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, fantasy;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">"Well, that went well!" dad chuckled. I don't know which was more embarrassing, that I got shut down by the first group of kids I interacted with at college or that there was a witness. Dad reassured me before leaving for real. I ended up making a lot of friends at orientation and having a great time.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, fantasy;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="white-space: pre;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Needless to say, I have overcome my shyness and developed dad's ability to have good conversations with different kinds of people <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">though I haven't developed his eagerness to interact with every stranger he sees yet.</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">)</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 88px; height: 141px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0YHNS9UiRHHcNugnHxSVRyRCEQMuz-exrsBcj8zW2qsY9twNbfNe6UUS5aWkmYQZOOIgWUFq7IdmWS9rGC4rI2Hxasmxw6Xy1soJg2UUf3PfbXYJWz9Gol504FtKCgZXhqfZEjqrAS9Y/s320/13663070-034d17b1d902756b360cc4321a29a624.4a3ffb59-thumb.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350284831660023778" /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(</span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Dad protecting me from the rain before Commencement)</span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, fantasy;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, -webkit-fantasy;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Most importantly </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">(as it pertains to this blog, at least)</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> I developed my passion for writing because of my dad.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, -webkit-fantasy;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, -webkit-fantasy;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Dad- Because you're cool, I'm not a loser. </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">(For the most part.)</span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, -webkit-fantasy;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, -webkit-fantasy;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Thanks dude.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana, -webkit-fantasy;"><br /></span></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjPbz_Ngmk3a2ESvw3-7uZ-WtEVJ53q-Zy7-qsKg_8716tF0qLgTgSpbmqwODsVTujp_8u1d67xPk6UhI6BwDuufhSmSl_FK_QeX0JUZIVUH-hApn3WXchoL1SwREz8DxvnMKrte_frqE/s320/S5003869.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5350290299536074658" />MariaSophiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08292747915974314030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813254966757648771.post-84981463146091035632009-06-16T23:56:00.008-04:002009-06-17T00:40:59.958-04:00Another day, another pinched nerve<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk6qNUuWYDD_clfF6p-NrtsnDEqPsGsP1HZSckeLFsE758T2Bn01bYwLG7sNJ_oRqcF2BQGTaNKmwBZksvyewJENG-V9GrdRN3M5mtYhHuKXo9CNQBBGAY9N8lBWfhQJkmbNpoa1rLW_U/s1600-h/lol_thumb.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 170px; height: 92px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk6qNUuWYDD_clfF6p-NrtsnDEqPsGsP1HZSckeLFsE758T2Bn01bYwLG7sNJ_oRqcF2BQGTaNKmwBZksvyewJENG-V9GrdRN3M5mtYhHuKXo9CNQBBGAY9N8lBWfhQJkmbNpoa1rLW_U/s320/lol_thumb.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5348150437869022386" /></a><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:verdana;">Big Mike has been encouraging me to explore my funemployment through bike riding. As a result, I've also been exploring our extensive collection of pain medication <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(BenGay, BioFreeze...)</span></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Today we journeyed through Birmingham. I was immediately thankful I popped a Zycam before our ride when we came across a field of huge chunks of pollen resembling the fluffy remains of the Canadian Geese that messed with<a href="http://www.vanityfair.com/style/features/2009/06/us_airways200906"> Sully</a>.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">I prefer getting exercise outdoors <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(stop laughing)</span></i> whether it be running, whiffle ball or engaging in drive-by water soaking wars with my dad. It's more interesting when the scenery changes. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">We had quite a selection of varied terrain on our journey. The trail made of thousands of little pebbles that kept shifting under the weight of the tires was probably the worst. Oh no. Wait. The worst were the GIGANTIC HILLS we had to maneuver amongst oversized moving vehicles that <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(wanted to but)</span></i> were trying not to hit us.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:verdana;">I must have pinched a nerve in my left butt cheek trying to get up that hill. At some point, my entire left leg went numb. I thought I was out for the count. But alas, I am here sitting on my tingling butt blogging about the hazards of the road.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Maybe I should work out more.</span></div>MariaSophiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08292747915974314030noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813254966757648771.post-69592246720260546592009-06-15T00:23:00.007-04:002009-06-15T01:43:59.538-04:00When they think you're sneaking spiked punch...<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinhYGvMLxMjO93_9xb6ly1HPrLoQqwNXvnBwHuWucsIgyuMY4BcTBuhBuaaBIDk22sBJO8uG6gDIShtg3GMDuTs1rRzmP1Njrz8FaWd_G9gKyrqg4JHITwFAWLD8yGhyphenhyphen2vqm_879ZcW0k/s1600-h/with+joe2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinhYGvMLxMjO93_9xb6ly1HPrLoQqwNXvnBwHuWucsIgyuMY4BcTBuhBuaaBIDk22sBJO8uG6gDIShtg3GMDuTs1rRzmP1Njrz8FaWd_G9gKyrqg4JHITwFAWLD8yGhyphenhyphen2vqm_879ZcW0k/s320/with+joe2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347423755847704370" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:Georgia;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Ok tell me the truth. How old do you think I look in this picture?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">That was taken Saturday night at a graduation party for a family friend. Joe and I were eating cake and trying to decide if he would end up like the group of old men in a circle in the back yard smoking cigars while checking out the <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(decades younger)</span></i> waitress. We decided, most likely. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">A woman that looked exactly like Bette Midler <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(but with redder hair)</span></i> interrupted our laughter to introduce herself. After asking Joe about his wrestling career, Bette turned to me with a smile reminiscent to that of Sadie Ratliff from <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0094739/">Big Business</a> and asked:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">"And what grade are you in?!"</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">EXCUSE ME??? I just graduated college, thank you very much. This is the face of a wise and <i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">(fairly)</span></i> weathered Bachelor of Science recipient.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">I mean, seriously. I could handle Erin's ten year old cousin innocently guessing that I was 15. He's young. But Bette? Straight out of The Real Housewives of Oakland County? And she's not even close to being the first person to think I was in middle or high school.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">While we're talking about mistaken identities...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Last Christmas, Steve and I struggled through a <a href="http://meetmeatthemirror.blogspot.com/2008/12/weirdos-in-logan-and-other-tales-from.html">travel</a> <a href="http://meetmeatthemirror.blogspot.com/2008/12/how-to-avoid-mental-breakdown-during.html">nightmare</a> trying to get from Boston to Detroit. We had to stay overnight in Cinncinnati because of flight complications. We approached a counter at the Marriott at four in the morning. The woman bowed her head to look at our IDs. Paused. Looked up with a dumb smile and asked:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">"Would you like one bed or two, Mr. and Miss F?"</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">EXCUSE ME??? We are siblings, woman! Don't toy with my emotions, it's four in the morning.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Ugh. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">This is a time of transition. And in said time of transition, one must exhibit restrained patience in the face of confusion.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">...Or just start wearing descriptive sandwich boards to avoid stupid questions.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbZxEd7W_WpF1uSMGiEp7W_wVa-CgEid13oHWweij5Cjng360qV5e3Wa6daIy5O2ZkiZ3KHAvrAuUkWEhcJHnbaAcf2NbKCXIwb4qHHWELRA6ci1yfomHA59Fv2vx6oY-T6_asHActlFo/s320/sandwichboard2.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347423531295843778" />MariaSophiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08292747915974314030noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813254966757648771.post-74319090582592382292009-06-10T00:32:00.005-04:002009-06-10T00:53:12.929-04:00Christina on Greece<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>Maria:</b> How was Greece?!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>Christina: </b>Girl it was fantastic. It was amazing.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>Maria:</b> Man. I'm jealous.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>Christina:</b> It's so... different there! I mean. Men are actually... respectful! What happened to guys here?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>Maria:</b> Haha I have no idea.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>Christina:</b> ... Girl I don't think men wax their eyebrows there.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>Maria:</b> What? Do guys do that here?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>Christina:</b> I meannnn..... Their eyebrows. There were some hairy, hairy men there.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><b>Maria:</b> Well. Greeks ARE notoriously hairy.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ATQdIRohTSU/Si87yD19AYI/AAAAAAAAAAM/7ipdJIIaYPU/s320/christina+and+maria+before+beach+party.jpg" style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5345557013923168642" /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Thanks for calling, </span></i></span><a href="http://lovemymess.blogspot.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Jess</span></i></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> and Christina!</span></i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The rest of you... get dialling. </span></i></span></div>MariaSophiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08292747915974314030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813254966757648771.post-25667449133820580442009-06-04T22:45:00.006-04:002009-06-04T23:15:39.933-04:00Anyone need their lawn mowed?<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Aaah family dinners. A time to feast on sarcasm, insult, and Vicki's delicious home cooking.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">It was at said daily gathering that we could be found devouring the spoils of a newly purchased grill when all of a sudden the door bell rang. Weary of robbers and environmentalists, mom and I sent dad to deal with the interruption. He opened the door and adjusted his gaze to the pudgy ten year old standing on our porch. Mom and I tried to decipher the child's muffled request over the crunch of our perfectly salted peas. Dad closed the door and returned to the table with a smirk on his face.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Dad:</span> The kid wanted to mow our lawn. He and his sister were pulling a wagon with a weed whacker and some wires and tools.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Dad chuckled as he scooped up some peas with his fork.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Dad:</span> Hey! <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">(he pointed his fork at me)</span> You should go ask if they have any jobs!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-family:verdana;">This is what I'm dealing with, people. Send sympathy cards.</span><br /></div>MariaSophiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08292747915974314030noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813254966757648771.post-45729520584924547852009-06-03T20:45:00.012-04:002009-06-06T13:43:24.990-04:00Maria Goes to Long Island<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5vTEI_irWryVebTcZLHcotxbehNy_rYk8WVOJVWkbuyDCqdSbvin_vIO2JOUUChOiARlfHVpW53x-Y_5rPvBwhLye7VxMr8Uw_JFyAMmtLIhkZn55KkuNrIW4cvxEewODaouf_UTtqxU/s320/beach2.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343296172184691490" /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><a href="http://whatwouldnancydo.blogspot.com/">Mrs. D</a> flew me down last Thursday as a surprise to Erin and in turn I was surprised by the lack of guido and orange skin as Erin introduced me to Long Island.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Things I loved about Long Island:</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">1) Erin and her seriously fantastic family (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">yes, even the dog, who trapped me in a room Day One but was eating hot dogs from <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">my plate by Sunday.</span>)</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">2) Erin's crazy/hilarious/super fun friends and their fire pits and weird cars with animal noises.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">3) The wheel at Billy's Bar. So exciting!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">4) The water. And rocks. And shells. If I lived on Long Island I'd be down by the water every day. There were awesome lifeguard lookout towers that I refused to jump off even though they were three feet from the ground. Noelle threw rocks at me in a failed attempt to persuade me to jump. I would need to build up some courage.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAqLcLY63UH9R7m6VUtyEoeHUkrtU5ku1RRSO0BH38sLAkNveHfPAUB6FJsvb9diGiQvkwdNTs_MYUvtTvSYWqIJvrGq5k2SODgprODlQerGq9sm8eDUzTRpl7UYBaN_lwiCT9hhGswGk/s320/beach3.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343295800767327458" /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">5) Crazy people. Like this guy with a metal detector.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLfMnCR_Ixbw6VjHcSmKstAzbyeY2rL4HP-KtTLPtUPHTizJhcyDlyU33xiYVmrq2DtIPO8ww9fnvPAYikVamOgdKr9-8UrRh447ll3U8LlmhKAuYrU9VFuTN4UsnfZM80X6c8GykHkIM/s320/S5003824.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343295474622361634" /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">After exploring Long Island on Friday, Erin's family brought me into the city Saturday. Some switch flipped the second we started driving into the city. Attacked by the impulse to explore for hours, I annoyed my family and friends with texts declaring my wishes to move to the city right then and there. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">We went into the Hershey and M&M stores where Erin and I played with giant chocolate bars and her sisters joined us in the mood detector to determine our M&M color. (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Mine was Almond Mix or something. Apparently I like excite<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">ment and adventure. So true, M&M mood detector!</span>) The machine was acting up all day; it offended Jill by telling her she is not a person who "does many things well," declared Sarah dark chocolate mix and Erin dark pink. Bizarre.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZCLKvs-W6KVfBBd-7iyHj7PllLc8PQShEQXD20DHEBcEtUidD6xoYBK_05ikD3dLBcuhihVSWmj6TyqjnZ18HBXZ_KeGccHU1TXj9OaL7aTraAtF8grQW2tnZiwVzed-mhuD-IokK7_U/s320/S5003846.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343295174916488818" /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">We headed toward <a href="http://www.carminesnyc.com/">Carmine's</a> next. A legend in my mind, I was excited to experience what Noelle and Erin spent hours salivating over. Mr. D went in to get us a table and to everyone's surprise there was no line. He brought us in through the special door and we took our seat on the second floor. I will be dreaming about those zucchini sticks/fries/straws/pieces-of-heaven for YEARS.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">After Carmine's, we walked around Times Square where we reunited with Mark.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0XjC2PlOi7qqpNHIMH8vUBtoz__hE4TIpOovT1YRlkdKaxzH_dBR01mRVsYUIA8nfd7jIryMO97Ssz6jSV_qG6VaEUbZzgb6POsgtDeCwEbUDs5b6BcVkM3VZ3zkZFUhPHvDkJ0rpjhg/s320/mark.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343294733173117346" /><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">The weather was perfect on Saturday. We walked to Central Park where we climbed a rock formation and people-watched. A ten-year-old boy hit on Erin with the sweetest pick-up line ever: Wanna climb with me? She turned him down. It was as good a time as any for him to learn about disappointment. He slid down the formation and walked off with his mom.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">We experienced many strange and wonderful things walking through Central Park. A bride, a man (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">with a small dog</span>) that looked like a pedophile, a man tanning in very tiny shorts, a large group of people roller skating in various outfits including (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">but not limited to</span>) furry pink pants and cut-off shirts with fringe, a woman on a unicyle dancing with a man on roller skates, two Aztek-ish warring violinists in thongs, a woman making a stuffed chicken dance on her lap, and much much more.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg08DFtYhxGbgkzkSxO5I4F2-46fAwm4TIbjGv87wcjjm5RRmzRIoUnfM6tZ46s6-XGwJnjvQA8DVR5T36QGf6_Gcn3cs96egA6MArhRDHRNtN2cLiI9N95zrz__VVcr9odlBiabBgqpkM/s320/S5003856.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343294340819640114" /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">I need to move to NYC.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Dessert was necessary after our long day. We indulged in cheesecake and chocolate cakes before seeing the hilarious off-broadway play, <a href="http://www.altarboyz.com/">Altar Boyz</a>. Is it strange that I want to download the soundtrack? We had a perfect view; our seats were four rows from the front. Erin and I were relieved to hear this showing did not involve audience participation.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">We drove through the brightly lit city and I resisted the urge to jump out of the car and peek in all the restaurants and bars and apartments. I drilled Erin and her parents about life in the city, imagining myself living there.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">This whole being out of college thing is kind of exciting when you realize that you can literally go anywhere. As long as there's money. And benefits. And housing. I'll save my list of living requirements for another time.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Sunday was barbeque day. Erin and Jill had a joint party for graduation and Sweet [s]Ixteen respectively. Mrs. D and the girls prepared me for the invited company as Mr. D and Sarah prepared the outdoor games and fire and the rest of us helped assemble the mounds and mounds of food Mrs. D bought. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">The food was delicious (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">and plentiful</span>) and the company was great. I even found a new boyfriend. James is 10. He thinks I'm 15. He's a little fresh but he's a great kickball player and super clever (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">he dub<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">bed Noelle "No-LOL" without hesitation.</span>) Sarah was the Smore master. Noelle, Erin and I ended the party around Mr. D's expertly crafted fire and then laughed in the kitchen for hours with Erin's friends.</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Monday afternoon the family drove me to the airport. I'm thankful to have had the opportunity to get to know them. The trip gave me hope that even though college is over, friendships really will last forever. There's no way Erin's getting rid of me now! MUAHAHAHA.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Flying out of the city I admired the faint flicker of advertisements from Times Square imagining myself wandering amidst the skyscrapers. After a moment, clouds poured over my window leaving only my imagination to construct variations of my future.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMMqpYYR2oeqPD7ioDhgSpunMyMZ2iILGEiEj1Wi-ewwI2uVxmdirRq1XyNdDcPcKjH1v-a5q0-lOezXCpnhdJGzsFz3TvQb6UBehwMqVSmFeiXYL71XamK_Jrp2vKJ-a6sPjumet5WqE/s320/nycc.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343291089404083154" /></div>MariaSophiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08292747915974314030noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813254966757648771.post-46447709933368023512009-05-27T00:18:00.008-04:002009-05-27T04:21:27.641-04:00Bitchin Beard: Championship Edition<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">I've almost recovered from the Bruins' loss to the Hurricanes. It helps that the Hurricanes just got swept out of the Playoffs. About time too. I don't think I could handle one more bad weather metaphor in a blog post.<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">There is one thing that the Bruins are still kicking ass in. And that's the <a href="https://www.beardathon.com/">BEARD-A-THON</a>!!! WOO!!! The spirit of the fans can not be broken. The <a href="http://twitter.com/Beardathon">Beard-a-thon</a> is a way for each of the eight playoff teams to raise money for a cause of their choice.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" ;font-size:13px;"></span></span></span><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">The Boston Bruins Foundation is a 501(c)(3) non-profit foundation whose mission is to assist charitable organizations that demonstrate a strong commitment to enhancing the quality of life for children throughout New England. ... </span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">The Foundation, which provides grants to organizations that meet the standards of its mission, concentrates on athletics, academics, health, and community outreach programs that assist in helping enrich the lives of children throughout New England.</span></span></span></span></blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">At $93,564, </span></span><a href="https://www.beardathon.com/bruins/team.aspx"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Bruins fans</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> have raised more money than each of the eight other fan bases. </span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">Let's go $100,000!!! Go donate to someone. </span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style=" "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">The lead profit generator is Bob Sweeny, who has raised $21,000 so far.</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4m-5CJDD6Psa-g4q0GrhleIMKyD_Fq9jSkOUgk0d2-MGTZ5nMN2sQ08QJ4zOgiYoQnM1teqcT0RmRXMhy2vxhuz6d0mH5VzlUfcBWuQORIwGmINT8XtySHRFQvYDxOGkbpa8ait61V0Y/s320/Bob+Sweeny" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 215px; height: 215px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340364553532894722" /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">The final four teams have raised as follows:</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Red Wings</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">: $12,874</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Blackhawks</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">: $20,002</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Hurricanes</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">: $53,680</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Penguins</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">: $82,784</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Red Wings fans need to step up. A championship means nothing without some sweet playoff beards.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Maybe they should take a hint from this guy.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLmkiDGLs1CteXnslNtf3z8Don_qZI0yN4Of_4-3xx0hEQIB_n5X7vJmO_G14H3vGuKf0sliUCDdF4qMjl2n55c2dKLPG7g7jnEkOHJqNtx40oNHCChzh-4UzckUDAyMVd1C4YlnvYV-0/s320/Huge+Beard.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 229px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340363865504678994" /><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">David Traver recently </span><a href="http://www.adn.com/life/story/807240.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">won</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"> the World Beard and Moustache Championship. I wish I knew this was happening! Traver spent 2 1/2 years growing this 20.5 inch beard. Now THAT's dedication.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">I want to be on the judge's panel next year, Alaska.</span></div>MariaSophiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08292747915974314030noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813254966757648771.post-22911622424352696142009-05-24T20:06:00.008-04:002009-05-24T20:49:07.837-04:00Check your manhood at the door, lest you burn it with wing sauce.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><div><br /></div>One great thing about being home is getting to hang out with Joe. My interests generally align with those of a 17 year old boy (</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">minus little girls and the weight room, to name two.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">) I did not find a single person in Boston who followed or enjoyed watching mixed martial arts. Most people thought I was weird for doing so. At home, it's a given that the fight will be watched one way or another.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Last night was UFC 98. I'm not a fan of Pay Per View, in general. After a little research, I decided Joe and I would go to Buffalo Wild Wings where I would drink copious amounts of beer, bet on fights with him and force him to be my designated driver. That plan was foiled when I discovered Joe's still on a restricted license and can't drive after 12. Ugh. High schoolers.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Three of Joe's friends joined us. The fights were set to start at 10 but we were all hungry and bored so decided to leave the house at 8. Joe drove the youngens and I to BWW. Joe's "car rules" restrict the music selection to hip hop and oldies so we blared disco the entire way there.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Sidenote</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">: I will never understand why high school boys feel the need to A) stare everyone down B) make strangers feel uncomfortable by rolling down the windows, blasting Brick House and winking at mothers behind the wheel and C) use only the wrist of their right arm to drive.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Bringing testosterone filled high schoolers to Buffalo Wild Wings is like bringing bringing Noelle and Christina on the T dressed in costume on Halloween. They spend 20 minutes trash talking each other before making crippling life decisions. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Joe and I, despite the warning from our waitor, decided on the hot wings. Joe's friend Tyler decided on the Blazin chicken wrap. For those of you who have never been to a Buffalo Wild Wings... an order like this occurs so rarely that the chefs bet $10 on Tyler finishing his meal.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">The food came fast and the chefs and waitstaff hid in various corners to watch the reaction from our table. Joe took a bite of Tyler's Blazin wrap and started tearing up. The waitor brought him a little cup of chocolate milk to ease the pain, at which point Tyler and Zach called Joe a little bitch and insults were exchanged.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">By the time Tyler had consumed 3/4 of his wrap, the waitor had delivered 6 cartons of chocolate milk.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Waitor</span>: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">replenishing Tyler's milk carton supply</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">)</span> Dude. These are usually for little kids but take some more! I don't know how you're eating that, dude! You're crazy! I think you've had a gallon of milk, man!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Joe</span>: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(still complaining about the single bite he took 20 minutes earlier)</span></span> I feel like one of those cartoon characters that has just eaten something hot and is steaming from the ears!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Face redder than a stop sign and eyes tearing like my mom at graduation, Tyler admitted defeat. Someone in the kitchen was out $10. He just couldn't do it. He downed the rest of the milk and went to the bathroom. Tyler returned and put his forehead to the table while everyone made fun of him.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">After 15 minutes in this position, someone finally asked Tyler if he was ok.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Tyler:</span> Dude. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(He hushed to a whisper)</span> I forgot to wash my hands before pissing.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">The table erupted in laughter. Tyler's mouth wasn't the only thing in pain. Zach handed him some Handy Wipes in a futile attempt to dull the burn. Tyler disappeared into the bathroom returning 10 minutes later with a distressed look on his face. The waitor sensed his pain and asked how his mouth was.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Tyler:</span> That's alright. But I forgot to wash my hands before I went to the bathroom.... So now it burns... <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(points to his crotch.)</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Waitor:</span> Ooooooohhhhhh. Sorry man, I can't help you there.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">Eventually, the tears dried up, the burning stopped and Tyler begged the waitor to take away the rest of his wrap. Lyoto Machida <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(the guy I called to win)</span></span> beat Rashad Evans <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">(the guy Joe called to win)</span></span>, knocking him out for the first time in his MMA career. I barked for a few minutes while Joe stormed out the front door. Everyone returned home fairly unharmed.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">A word to the wise</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">: DO NOT order the Blazin anything! Check your pride at the door before your hurt yourself. And by God if you must get something Blazin... PLEASE wash your hands before touching anything but the wings.</span></div>MariaSophiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08292747915974314030noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813254966757648771.post-34866525677376982872009-05-22T18:13:00.003-04:002009-05-22T18:34:41.046-04:00Technology is dangerous in the hands of our elders.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;">Alright so it hasn't been nearly as bad as I thought it would be.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;">When my family arrived in Boston for commencement weekend just last weekend, my dad asked me how I envisioned my first few weeks at home.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;">"I'll probably cry hysterically all the way home. Sleep for two days straight. Slip into a state of deep depression for about two weeks and then finally pull myself together and move on."</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;">Surprisingly, my prediction has not come to fruition. I cried a little on the way drive home. I slept most of the way, slashing about 10 hours of the required catch-up-sleep-time from my schedule. I haven't hit the deep depression, which is the biggest shock. I thought that was a sure bet. I'm sure it's on its way. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;">Once I finish season one of <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0844441/">True Blood</a> (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">which will happen tonight</span>) and finish unpacking my life (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">which will not happen soon</span>) and my family has moved on with their normal lives (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">which will be after the long weekend</span>)... then I'll crawl into a dark hole for a little while.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Until then</span>, my sole job is to shield my father from internet predators. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;">I am seriously worried. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;">In the car on the drive home, my dad confessed his recent addiction to online Hearts. Michael has discovered chat rooms, people. That's right. After describing the concept of an avatar (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">even though, to his shock, I informed him I know what an avatar is</span>) he shared a recent experiement he's been conducting.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;">My father has a genderless AOL screen name. He realized that you can customize your avatar with various features. Always one to fuck with people, dad decided to make his avatar a woman. He has taken great pleasure in fooling Hearts chatroom frequenters across the nation. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;">People respond differently, he told me. Men generally don't take kindly to being beaten by a room full of women. My father, one of three "women" in a chatroom with one man, chuckled softly to himself as the man typed his frustration at being beaten by women.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;">As if that's not bad enough. People are hitting on my father in these chat rooms. Some man asked him his age.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Sidenote:</span></span> I took this opportunity to ask if anyone has A/S/L'd* him. I was comforted by his confusion. Apparently that's a generational thing that died in the 90s. I hope.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;">After being asked his age by a strange man, my father cleverly replied, "why do you want to know?" at which point the man left the chatroom. My father flailed his arms feeling victorious against the chatroom pervert.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;">It's strange that I find myself wanting to monitor my father's internet use for fear he will be taken advantage of. Although at this rate, he has all the makings of the next successful </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/To_Catch_a_Predator"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;">Chris Hansen.</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"> </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;">Parents these days.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">*A/S/L = Age/Sex/Location</span></span></span></div>MariaSophiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08292747915974314030noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813254966757648771.post-13200337444997036992009-05-21T02:42:00.001-04:002009-05-21T02:46:52.484-04:00When words aren't enough...<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;">... share a photo album!</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">(if the slideshow isn't working, go </span></span><a href="http://photobucket.com/mariasophia"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">here</span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">)</span></span><br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:verdana;"><div style="width:480px;text-align:right;"><embed width="480" height="360" src="http://static.photobucket.com/flash/rss_slideshow.swf?rssFeed=http%3A%2F%2Ffeed719.photobucket.com%2Falbums%2Fww191%2Fmaria_sophia%2Ffeed.rss" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent"></embed><a href="http://photobucket.com/redirect/album?showShareLB=1" target="_blank"><img src="http://pic.photobucket.com/share/icons/embed/btn_geturs.gif" style="border:none;" /></a><a href="http://s719.photobucket.com/albums/ww191/maria_sophia/" target="_blank"><img src="http://pic.photobucket.com/share/icons/embed/btn_viewall.gif" style="border:none;" /></a></div><br /></span></div></div>MariaSophiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08292747915974314030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813254966757648771.post-70296326864475421792009-05-04T22:16:00.004-04:002009-05-04T22:44:00.583-04:00Ways to save money: Text Edition<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Get wise friends instead of paying for therapy</span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">3/1 JESS</span> The kid is clueless. Drop the zero and get with a hero... Or just find someone better with no rhyme scheme involved</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">4/6 JESS</span> You can take a picture of him and upload it to the blog with using less than five words... Epic tool. P.S. Try sleeping tonight. You are too nocturnal. I'm convinced you're part bat. Not in a gross way. Just in a nocturnal way.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">4/15 TARA</span> Ew to both of those. We are surrounded by tools.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold;">Enlist overprotective relatives as bodyguards</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">3/23 JOE</span> He better not be a bitch. If shit goes down and he can't protect you OOH I'll kill him.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold;">Only be friends with entertaining people</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">3/6 JESS</span> Booty call and mom. Now that's just two things I always put together.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">3/27 ROOMMATE</span> Dear Maria, sorry I got so drunk and acted like some sort of foolish monkey.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">4/1 ERIN</span> When I get home from class can I trade you my wine glass for a ham?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">4/15 CHRISTINA</span> Pretty soon girl I'll be lathering you with oil at the Boston Commons/ BU beach</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">4/16 SARAH</span> Yea I'm here already starting my night off right with dollar beers and old men.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">4/19 ZACH</span> How could you not know? He sweated carrot juice.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">4/24 P.I.C.</span> When I came into work my boss goes, your eyes are all bloodshot. I'm like, oh yea it's allergies.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">5/3 ALI</span> Tara's eating pepperoni. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Intern at an awesome office</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">3/27 JESS</span> Are you coming in today?! There is an epic amount of new snacks.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Go to hockey games</span></span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">(not money saving, but worth the splurge)</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">3/28 DAD</span> I just saw you on TV doing the pointing thing. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">(READ: calling the opposition's goalie a siv.)</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">3/30 ALI</span> Just showered and still feel like I smell like beer and steak tips.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">4/12 JOHN</span> Sedan or SUV? We're in a charoal grey Honda minivan. I'll be the one flashing my nips @ you.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Random cheap entertainment</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">David at the Dentist? Or Joe at the surgeon?</span><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">3/20 JOE</span> Haha oh well it makes me drool Fool. Tool. Pool. Cool. Mule. What are you doing? Being cruel? Hollaaa.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">25 cent wing night.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">4/4 STEVE</span> We all know you're not going to the bar for a chicken wing.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">The internet.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">4/6 ALI</span> I am not meeting your weird internet friends.</span><br /></div>MariaSophiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08292747915974314030noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813254966757648771.post-74134794681522077452009-04-29T01:09:00.001-04:002009-04-29T01:11:35.923-04:00It's Coming: Graduation '09<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">E-mail at the internship...</span></span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">MARIA:</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Good morning everyone,</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /><br /></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I can't believe April is almost over! </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /><br /></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Finals period and graduation are speeding toward me so Wednesday will be my last day in the office. I will be here today until 5 and Wednesday 9-5 if you have any work or wrap-up you would like me to do! </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /><br /></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Otherwise, I will see you Wednesday.</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /><br /></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Thanks,</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Maria</span></span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">JESS:</span></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: -webkit-sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">:(</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">wahhhhhhhhh</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">wahhhhhhhhh</span></span></span><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">It's going to be a long Wednesday.</span></span></span></div>MariaSophiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08292747915974314030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813254966757648771.post-91345046321769322822009-04-23T15:08:00.003-04:002009-04-23T15:12:28.009-04:00It's Coming: Graduation '09<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">This conversation actually occurred between my family and I via e-mail.</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">MARIA:</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;">It's time...</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;">... to choose Commencement Weekend events before tickets run out.<br /><br />Please visit the link describing various activities. Discuss and let me know.<br />(My votes are for the Senior Champagne Reception and the Riverboat Cruise.)<br /><br />Hit me back yo.<br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">STEVE:</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;">Yeah good calls, mom wont like most of those (the ones you didn't pick).<br /><br />The only other potential I can see is the: Celebration '09<br /><br />Note: I'm setting my priorities based on the fact that I will be 21 for this event.<br /><br />P.S - Did you read all the notes for the Riverboat Cruise? You might not be able to get on.<br />"This event is not [metally] handicapped accessible."<br /></span> </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">DAD:</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;">I vote the same as you.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">MOM:</span></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana;">I agree!!! YO!!!</span></div>MariaSophiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08292747915974314030noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6813254966757648771.post-13335548900135381842009-04-07T02:05:00.003-04:002009-04-07T02:07:17.615-04:00Woop Tumblr<span style="font-family: verdana;">Here is my first Tumblr account, created for my New Media class. (I'll keep this too... and try to post more frequently... yea... it's been busy in these parts...)</span><br /><br /><a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://onetofive.tumblr.com/">One to Five</a><br /><br /><span style="font-family: verdana;">Can someone tell me how to convert MP4 files to MP3 files so I can start sharing some music?</span>MariaSophiahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08292747915974314030noreply@blogger.com0