Texts that...

... give advice and encouragement -

MEESH 7/8: Yay! Get rid of that pollution girl.

JESS V 8/8: Girl you should try to casually bump into his big muscles and tell him that they got in your way :)

... are life -

JESS R 7/7: I hope in return you ordered a No-Chance-In-Hell martini.

ALI 7/17: So I changed [redacted]'s name in my phone to "heinous bitch" and every time I see it it makes me giggle like a little school girl.

ANONYMOUS 7/26: This... for once... this late... is not a creepy sext message.

JOE 7/27: On the way, Rampage.

ALI 8/2: Rachel is drinking beer through a Twizzler.

ALEX 8/9: Dan Marino, your boyfriend from the Tap, asked for you.

... predict the future -

NOHN 8/7: New future slash blog: Noelle and Maria v. Food

ERIN 8/10: We're moving to the village. At transgender bingo right now.

ANONYMOUS 8/11: It's destiny, Maria. Maybe not anytime soon. But we're going to get married.

My, how we've grown.

It's funny how fast things change.

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." [Don't worry, dad. These chapter titles are hyperbolized.]

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:

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.

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.

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.

Tagger One: Dude, don't draw on his face. He has work tomorrow.

Tagger Two: Ok... Let's get his ear.

And so in that moment, Life After Graduation was defined.

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.

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."

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.

Farewell, Packard house.

Farewell, reckless [permanent marker] abandon.

First person to find me a friend WINS!

I have printed a couple hundred copies of the card above. It's time to take drastic measures. [Feel free to print and distribute.]

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.

SCENE ONE:

(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.)

Maria: (whispers to herself) Sweet.

(Maria occupies the vacant seat facing an elderly man perpendicular to his wife.)

Elderly woman: 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.

(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.)

SCENE TWO:

(Maria walks across the yard clutching her cold beer thinking to herself, "Thank GOD for liquor.")

Drunk woman: I'm sorry. I have to ask. (Quiets to a whisper and squeezes one eye shut) How ooold are you?

Maria: (exasperated) TWENTY-TWO! I should just start wearing my license around my neck.

(Maria continues on her path walking past her brother and his hoodlum wrestling friends.)

Tyler: SHAVE YOUR BEARD!

SCENE THREE:

(Maria, mom and dad are standing in a circle with the hostess of the party talking about life.)

Mrs. S: So how's being home?

Maria: Oh it's nice. Lots of down time.

Mom: Yea, it's just hard for her because she has no friends here.

Dad: She went from being in college with all her friends to being here with us. She needs some friends here.

(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.)

Mrs. S: (grabs Maria's hand and drags her to a circle of six older people.) THIS is Maria. She is a wonderful girl who just graduated college and has no friends here. Maria, (she points to one woman) this is my cousin. She has a very nice son who just graduated Michigan State. Talk to each other.

(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.)

Cousin 1: Well, why don't you give me your number and I'll give it to Tommy for when he comes back!

(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. Later that night, the cousins stand in unison and gather their belongings.)

Strange man: Did my wife get your number?

When they think you're sneaking spiked punch...

Ok tell me the truth. How old do you think I look in this picture?

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 (decades younger) waitress. We decided, most likely.

A woman that looked exactly like Bette Midler (but with redder hair) 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 Big Business and asked:

"And what grade are you in?!"

...

EXCUSE ME??? I just graduated college, thank you very much. This is the face of a wise and (fairly) weathered Bachelor of Science recipient.

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.

While we're talking about mistaken identities...

Last Christmas, Steve and I struggled through a travel nightmare 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:

"Would you like one bed or two, Mr. and Miss F?"

...

EXCUSE ME??? We are siblings, woman! Don't toy with my emotions, it's four in the morning.

Ugh.

This is a time of transition. And in said time of transition, one must exhibit restrained patience in the face of confusion.

...Or just start wearing descriptive sandwich boards to avoid stupid questions.

Check your manhood at the door, lest you burn it with wing sauce.

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 (minus little girls and the weight room, to name two.) 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.

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.

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.

Sidenote: 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.

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. 

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.

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.

By the time Tyler had consumed 3/4 of his wrap, the waitor had delivered 6 cartons of chocolate milk.

Waitor: (replenishing Tyler's milk carton supply) 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!

Joe: (still complaining about the single bite he took 20 minutes earlier) I feel like one of those cartoon characters that has just eaten something hot and is steaming from the ears!

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.

After 15 minutes in this position, someone finally asked Tyler if he was ok.

Tyler: Dude. (He hushed to a whisper) I forgot to wash my hands before pissing.

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.

Tyler: That's alright. But I forgot to wash my hands before I went to the bathroom.... So now it burns... (points to his crotch.)

Waitor: Ooooooohhhhhh. Sorry man, I can't help you there.

Eventually, the tears dried up, the burning stopped and Tyler begged the waitor to take away the rest of his wrap. Lyoto Machida (the guy I called to win) beat Rashad Evans (the guy Joe called to win), 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.

A word to the wise: 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.

Technology is dangerous in the hands of our elders.

Alright so it hasn't been nearly as bad as I thought it would be.

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.

"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."

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. 

Once I finish season one of True Blood (which will happen tonight) and finish unpacking my life (which will not happen soon) and my family has moved on with their normal lives (which will be after the long weekend)... then I'll crawl into a dark hole for a little while.

Until then, my sole job is to shield my father from internet predators. 

I am seriously worried. 

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 (even though, to his shock, I informed him I know what an avatar is) he shared a recent experiement he's been conducting.

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. 

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.

As if that's not bad enough. People are hitting on my father in these chat rooms. Some man asked him his age.

Sidenote: 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.

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.

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 Chris Hansen. 

Parents these days.

*A/S/L = Age/Sex/Location

If it's not Windex...

Yai: You feeling better?
Maria: A little. I still sound like a man.
Yai: What you gonna do about it? Go to doctor?
Maria: No. I'm getting better.
Yai: Why don't you get Sara to rub your back with alcohol?
Maria: Who's Sara?
Yai: Your girlfriend!



For the record:

• Yai = My grandma. She's Greek and sometimes forgets to speak English.
• Sara = Tara (my roommate since freshman year)
• According to Greeks (or at least Yai), rubbing alcohol all over yourself will cure anything.
  

Bitchin Beard: Another use for toothpicks

THIS may be the most bitchin-est beard I've ever seen. Did the girl taking the video seriously count out 2,222 toothpicks? The end result looks like a Chia Pet.

Cleaning out my inbox

You know the drill.* Share some funny texts. 

*These do not include several texts from my mother saying, "woot," "LOL" and "OMG."

Dec 27 DREW: I had no idea I was going to the hood till it was too late but once I was there I was shitting bricks. 

Jan 3 CHRISTINA: 2009 our year to shine! 

Jan 6 STEVE: No more CSI for you. 

Jan 14 ANON: I didn't want your dad beating me with a hockey stick like I was a rabid squirrel. 

Jan 15 ZACH: Get me my prune juice bitch! 

Jan 15 ALI: OMG there is some idiot grad student that sounds like Screech teaching my class. 

Jan 18 JOE: ... And it's deuce deuce and the tre deuce in my bubble goose. 

Jan 22 MOM: You didn't sms me last night Missy Misserina! 

Jan 24 ZACH: Yea sure. I'm dressed like a guido. If that's cool. 

Jan 26 JOE: What woman? I keep it pimpin. 

Jan 29 DREW: What's your e-mail? I got ringers. They're all young and in shape. 

Jan 29 DREW: Sent. Let the domination begin.

Feb 4 SEAN: Use your third grade karate skills on him. Be sure to pack your 9mm just in case. 

Feb 4 NOELLE: [redacted] said hi to me on the street today. I think what he really meant to say was will you be my Valentine. 

Feb 5 TARA: Hahaha best year ever! 

Feb 8 JOE: Afuck eyou.

P.S. I want these.

Inauguration Day Blog Post #7,987,231,003

via

Forget what Michelle Obama was wearing... Let's talk about Aretha's hat for a minute. I personally would have preferred to hear Chain of Fools but somehow I feel that would have been considered inappropriate.




Today, my sociology class was canceled so we could experience some history. I wish I could have been there like Dean Elmore. I'm happy he shared his experience through Twitter.

Don't forget to grab a quart of Legal Sea Food's New England Clam Chowder for $4.44 by January 23! (one quart usually $16.95. Gotta love all these inauguration goodies.)

I am looking forward to four years of some quality blogging by President Obama.

This collection of celebration and reaction around the world is heartwarming.

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.