Pictures to show you how crazy the year was.*

*The links have more juicy details.

New Year's Eve 2008.


The room situation in 2008.


Boogying.


Valentines 2008 at the Slackers concert.


Spring Break Two Thousand Great: London.


At Archangel in London. Yes. My tights tore while I was out.


With Chrissy Poo, our host, at Imperial.


...and then we had a pillow fight.


On the London Eye. I told her to stay away from the window.


Spring Break London.


Some crazy fool in London.


Birthday dance with Zachary.


Birthday dinner. Happy 21st to me!


On a roof for Marathon Monday.


Semi-Annual End Of Semester binge.


Last day at COM Student Services.


Stanley Cup.


Ann Arbor. New friends, new experiences.


The Infamous Wednesday.


Nichole was such a slave driver. Look how she's forcing me to hold the monkey.

Emily's birthday. This was before she started rapping.


Going Away Luau.


The Semi-Annual Back To School Binge.


Many action shots were taken this year.


Parents Weekend and a visit from the family.


The hottest costume this Halloween.


Sometimes these things happen.


Being attacked.


Attacking Brian with my weapon. (I was the girl from Kill Bill, obviously.)


Christina H at An Tua Nua!


The typical scene at An Tua Nua.


Senior Hard Hat Party.


Dancing and singing at Com Prom.


Noelle's famous Pirate Eye.


Our first Thanksgiving feast.


Chi Phi formal: Reunion with Meaghan, our old roommate.


Thanksgiving with the cousins.


Chrissy Poo and the end of 20 Wads.


Secret Santa and holiday dinner.


Ice skating with cousin Anna.


Dancing our way into 2009.


New Year's Eve 2009: Ann Arbor.


It's going to be a good one. I can feel it.

Wrapping up the summer. Part Two.

Like usual, I'm wide awake less than 30 minutes before scheduled wake-up time. Dad and I are driving to Massachusetts in exactly 1 hour and 23 minutes. I am all packed, which is extremely rare given the unfortunate fact that my attention span never developed to that of a normal, full-functioning adult.

This summer. FLEW. by. I can't even believe it.

Life was not even close to the trauma I feared a couple months ago. Obviously. My stupid mind always expects the worst.

This summer was pretty awesome. I had a couple epiphanies and several reassurances and reminders such as:

• I love people. New people. Different people. All people. (.. ok most people.)
• I love new places.
  
• I love coffee. Medium. A little Half and Half. Two sugars. Small is too small. Large is just too large. Free trade coffee tastes like flowers.
• My humor sometimes takes adjusting to. I don't really have an arm disease or arm problem or tragic childhood story about my arm as some people may still believe...
  
• I'm glad I listened to my mother and didn't pursue photojournalism as a career. PR is the right place for me. Funny how the old folks knew first.
• I'm glad I listened to my dad's career and living-independently advice. It works flawlessly.
• Not all companies make interns do dumb things. I'm thankful everyone was eager to teach and show and my bosses were super.
  
• I'm thankful for all the advice and guidance I received over the past months.
• I'm thankful my roommates were awesome. You guys better come to Boston. I'm serious.
  
• I wish I had another month of summer.
• Nichole and Damian are the best coffee buddies ever and I owe both of them more than I could fit in a bullet point.
• I suck at goodbyes and would rather just duck out without a word because it's easier.

I'm not even going to talk about how I'm facing my senior, AKA final, year at BU. I'll save the angsty, end-of-the-world musings for late at night with the Boston roommates. MUAHAH. Just kidding guys.

Anyways there's no need for that because my family goodbye dinner at P.F. Changs yielded more than just an inflated stomach.

(Let's pretend half the restaurant didn't get this one as well.)

Let the fortune cookie speak for itself.

Bide your time, for success is near.

Recovered: Artifacts of the Past

I've been packing and organizing for approximately 24 hours. I get distracted and start going through things I know will not be coming to Boston with me. The benefit to this is that every year when it's time to go back to school I rediscover old things that weren't always stuffed in a box or drawer.

Like this duct tape wallet made by Tom, a friend and Joe's soccer coach from Indiana two summers ago.



Or that random box of letters. The best of which was from someone we met in a hotel bar in Egypt about seven years ago. He didn't really speak English. Long story. Funny letter delivered after a week of hanging out in silence. He wanted to know if it was possible to be "boyfriends."



And this friendship necklace. You know you had one. From Massachusetts probably about ten years ago. Kim and I couldn't go to the mall without buying something to solidify our friendship.

Have you heard that song Webbie made for me?

Mom: This might be our last Christmas together.
Maria: Pssh. You guys will still buy me flights home after I graduate.
Dad: HAH! I don't think so. You'll be on your own. Can you spell "independent?"
Maria: Please, old man. I spell that every pre-game.




Independent by Webbie
Lyrics (the important ones)


I N D E P E N D E N T Do You Know What That Mean Man [X2]
She Got Her Own House
She Got Her Own Car
Two Jobs Work Hard U A Bad Broad

She'll Buy Her Own I Dont Think She 'll Never Look
In A Man Face Standin Waitin For Him To Take Care Of Her
She'll Rather Go To Work And Pay The Bills On Schedule

A Independent Chick Do U Kno Wat That Mean
She Cook She Clean Never Smell Like Onion Rings

The night I almost killed my dad with my phone charger.

Let me tell you why I need to stop watching scary movies.

Last night I was at home in the basement watching The Last King of Scotland by myself. It ended at about 2 AM. I wanted something to finish downloading before I went to bed so I figured I'd get a snack while I was waiting. I started going upstairs and heard really weird noises. The main floor of our house was dark but I could see the windows were opened and I could hear unidentifiable sounds coming from an unidentifiable room. I couldn't tell if they were coming from upstairs or from the kitchen. I thought it could be Joe sleepwalking and if you try to wake a sleepwalker they could kill you by accident so I didn't want to wake him up. Flashbacks to The Strangers were flowing. I looked around and decided to go downstairs because I'm not a dumb bitch like Liv Tyler and I won't walk into the killer's arms that easily.

I paced the basement wondering if someone had broken into our house. I thought I'd try going up again but I freaked out when I got to the landing and went back to my room. I turned off all the lights in the basement and sat in my room with the door opened. I turned off my computer so I could hear better. All of a sudden I heard loud footsteps. I grabbed my phone and chose my mother's number, prepared to call her if an intruder tried to come get me.

I stood in my doorway trying to hear what was going on. I heard more footsteps. I anxiously searched my room for a possible weapon. In my state of panic, the most dangerous tool seemed to be my phone charger so I shuffled it between my hands trying to decide whether to strangle the perpetrator or stab them with the prongs in the charger. I settled on the latter, holding the charger in one hand and my phone with my finger on the call button in the other. Hearing footsteps approaching the stairwell to the basement I called out, "Joe????"

A booming voice responded.
"Why are you awake? Go to bed!"
Apparently my dad was shutting the windows.
"Maria? Are you ok?" my mom asked in a slurred, groggy voice.
Apparently I'd called her when I heard footsteps by the stairwell.

I have problems.

Sunday.

In line waiting for a cash register.

Me: I'm going to go back to Boston and want to buy a lot of things.
Mom: Mmmm.
Me: I'll have to find myself a sugar daddy.
Mom: I did! You will!

Stories from the dinner table...

(terrorist fist jabs)
Last night dad picked me up from Ann Arbor and brought me home to celebrate his 50th birthday. I enjoyed not cooking dinner and mom, dad, Joe and I had some laughs at the table. After dinner was over, Joe started clearing the table. He came and sat on my lap putting an arm around my neck. Seconds later my knees started rumbling under the oppressive squeal of his farts. He laughed hysterically as I screamed. Mom and dad got up to leave the table. Joe stood and extended both arms saying, "come on! That was good!" as he tried to fist bump the parentals. They did not oblige.


(my dad's a hobo)
So every time we go to a restaurant (or any public place where one could be humiliated) my dad harasses the wait staff. Tonight our waitress was a young girl, often absent from the table.
Dad: I have these two coupons for dinner.
Waitress: You can only use one per table, sorry.
Dad: What if we split the bill?
Waitress: Nope.
Dad: What if I pretend I'm from another table.
Waitress: Nope.
Dad: What if...
Mom: You can just ignore him. He follows us everywhere.
Waitress: Oh so you don't actually know him?
Dad: No they actually followed me here to dinner.
Waitress: Oh so are you like that hobo where the high school kids followed him around and kept having sex with him until he got them pregnant?
Dad: What??? ...No.

The Strangers (SPOILERS!! Get over it or go away.)

Joe told me today he used to think I was invincible when it came to scary movies but that he now knows I'm just a "vagina." I guess this is where I admit I screamed a little during The Strangers. You can tell my threshold for scary stuff has been passed when my eyes start watering. Despite my screaming, my eyes remained dry.

What bothered me about this movie was the circumstances surrounding their stay in the cabin in the woods. Ok. So Liv Tyler and Scott Speedman are at a wedding when he whisks her away and proposes to her. She declines his offer with puppy dog eyes stabbing through his heart. So what does he do? He drives her out into the woods to the ranch-style house he grew up in as a young boy. Rose petals were strategically placed in a bath tub and around candles to set the mood for some victory sexy time. Only there was no victory. So really they shouldn't have been there in the first place. Seriously. The girl just broke his heart and shat on his dreams. Why would anyone want to stay in a romantically decorated house in the woods with someone like that? Ugh. Dumb.

I was also mad we never saw the killers faces. Imagine my surprise when I IMDB'd that shit only to discover Gemma Ward plays the main creeper. Gemma Ward! The little alien looking model! I'd like to say I'm happy to see her branching out but she probably probes, kills and hides dead bodies in her space ship when she's not strutting down a cat walk already. The bad guy is played by Kip Weeks who I don't know. The other girl creeper is Laura Margolis from Dirty Sexy Money.

Ignoring that minor plot discrepancy, Bryan Bertino wrote and directed one pretty creepy movie. The narrator said it was inspired by real events. Wikipedia told me the screenplay was a combination of different elements including:

• A memory from Bryan Bertino's childhood wherein a stranger rang his doorbell at midnight looking for a person who didn't live there. (Apparently Bertino later found out that neighboring houses were being robbed.)
• Charles Manson and his clan. (Reading Helter Skelter and researching Manson and his followers made my eyes water.) The bad guys tortured Liv and Scott by creeping around their house and moving things. Manson's followers would entertain themselves by entering houses while people were sleeping and moving things around. (I wonder if people attributed out-of-place items to strangers and not other family members or bad memory? I mean unless they wrote "hello" and "killer" all over the walls.... I hope I never face this predicament.)
• California murders where three people "were found tied up, stabbed, bludgeoned by a hammer."

So basically the idea was good. And most parts were scary. The music was loud and damning and painfully irritating just as the score of a horror movie should be. The end was fantastic. I anticipate a sequel but will still be furious when one is filmed.

Just another reason I'll never live in the woods and I'll always carry a frying pan around my house if I ever live alone. You can never be too careful these days.