No One Reads The Copy

Wanna Know What Dating Me is Like?

2011-09-19T21:47:00.001-04:00

So like Adele so soulfully sang.... I FOUND A BOY! And this is what our text convos are like.

Me: Wanna know why I'm excited for Wednesday?

Him: YES!

Me: In this order: popcorn and M&M's, Ryan Gosling, one day closer to the weekend, the weather is supposed to be nice, seeing you.

Him: Not funny.

Me: I know, I was just kidding!!! The weather is supposed to be TERRIBLE.

Ha!!!!!! Go ahead and laugh!!!!!!

...and I'm out!

What A Poser/Poseur

2011-09-06T21:50:00.001-04:00

The best part about working in marketing/advertising in often the people. Actually, it might be the only good part. You tend to work with seriously talented people, who are good at a number of things - not just selling consumers crap they probably don't really need.*

*all opinions are my own.

Should I ever need ANYTHING in my life, I know someone who can do it. Do I need someone to illustrate me as a superhero? Check. Do I want someone to make wedding invitations? No, but if I did, I know someone. Do I need someone to paint me a zombie kettlebell? Yes, and I know just the gal to do it.

Illustrators, writers, painters, ceramics, photographers, crafters, printers, framers, bakers, decorators, web designers, fashionistas, you name it - this industry is FILLED with super talented, highly creative, generous people. And I'm lucky enough to be friends with them.

One of those people is my friend Ani who has a gift for great design. She is starting up her own longboard designing business and needed some willing models to show off her work. And since we got out early on Friday for the Labor Day weekend, a bunch of us headed over to one of the local beaches here and made a spectacle of ourselves.

Seriously, people thought we were professionals or something. It caused quite a scene.

Now, me and things with wheels or skates on the bottom don't agree - i.e. I'm deathly afraid of falling after having broken my arm as a kid - but I ended up getting some pretty decent shots. Also, I'm really, really not a skater, longboarder by ANY means, but it felt like Halloween and I got to pretend like I was all bad-ass.

I kept saying things like, "Make sure you get me catching wind. Catching wind. Is that what boarders say? Getting air? Touching the sky? No? Just make me look cool."

The jury is out on how cool I looked, but I'm excited to share some of the better ones with you guys:

Not sure why, but this is my favorite one. Maybe it's because my hair looks like I styled it, even though I totes didn't! And yes, my hair is what I'm focusing on. My expression is nervous, but again, I was still getting used to it.

Full-shot - I was TOTALLY catching wind here, right?!?

Longboarders TOTALLY pretend their board is a guitar, right? Right?

Me just being an idiot.

Just had a serious thought while riding and now I'm just sitting back to contemplate all of life's complexities.

And now I'm just thinking about life's complexities again, but turning the other way. Being a boarder is pretty spiritual. Dude.

So yeah, it was a fun way to spend an afternoon.

And then today, there was this too:

Sooooo, I sorta started talking about this in my birthday post, but then didn't because honestly, I'm not sure what the heck is going on... I think I maybe I have a crush on my coworker and he may have a crush on me, which sounds so high school, even though it's not, but I'm just not sure if I want to make it real.

Like flirting is fun and all, but I just don't know. I know that when he heard I was going to the beach that day, he came, even though he originally said he couldn't. I know that he came out for drinks later and walked me to my car after, but he's been my friend for so long and I flirt with everyone, really.

Anyway, I'll keep you posted if anything develops. For the last few months, I've been very un-Maria-like, if you will, and just not pushing things or forcing issues or really caring all that much about outcomes like I used to. Whatever happens, happens.

I think that's something a longboarder would say. ;)

That Is SO You

2011-08-26T00:39:00.000-04:00

I like when people send me things, or comment on things on do, by saying, "That is SO Maria." Or, "That is SO something you would do."

Doesn't everyone feel like that? Oddly touched, even if what they're saying is kind of making fun of you?

This past weekend I ran a 5K and did TERRIBLY. I almost didn't even mention it to my friend Esteban because he's a totally great runner, and I was like, embarrassed to even mention how poorly I did. But then of course I told him because I love talking about myself. I probably told him around 10 o'clock, with effusive proclamations of how embarrassed I was, and that I was literally slinking in my chair while telling him my time.

By 4 o'clock, I was totally back to normal. :) :) :)

I wanted to share 3 comics friends have also recently sent me as saying, that is SO you.

pretty self explanatory. Is any girl NOT like this?

I'm so easily startled, it's ridiculous. I'm constantly clutching my heart if someone "pops" out at me, i.e. comes up behind me, because I can get so lost in my own little world that I don't notice my environment. It's really quite dangerous!!! That, and I feel faint at the sight of blood, even though, I know, I know, I'm obsessed with zombies and horror movies. I don't know how it makes sense, but it does.

And this one was just cute, because I am one of the worst people to watch movies with. I am, however, one of the best people to cuddle with. Not just saying that! I get tons of compliments about how snuggly I am all the time! :)

That's all, just wanted to share these, since I think they're cute. And SOOOOO me.

Meet My Alternate Personality

2011-08-26T00:19:00.000-04:00

So during the Great East Coast Earthquake Non-Incident of 2011, I immediately took to my social media channels to tell anyone and everyone about my non-near-death experience. Most of my friends in different time zones were quite indulgent and fawned over me, asking me if I were OK, if I wanted to recount my experience, and basically coddled me, which are all things I pretend not to love.

Except my friend Esteban! I sent him two HILARIOUS jokes about the earthquake, and I basically got a "meh" response. Like, when a kid tells an adult, "look at me, look at me!" and the kid can TOTALLY tell the adult is not looking! I felt like my dog when I play ball with him, and then I ~~get bored after 5 minutes~~ have to do other things, and he looks at me like he's the saddest puppy in the entire planet.

This was me. Esteban, why won't you play with me?!

Not only did I make a very hilarious reference to Jenga, but I also forwarded him that hilarious deck chair photo BEFORE everyone else did and it was no longer funny. This was comedy gold! Jenga?! During an EARTHQUAKE?! Come on!

The joke was on HIM. I didn't even HAVE a joke about a tower of cards. I was just being facetious because his lack of giving me attention was making me mad! I could've died that day!

"I don't want to" roughly translates to "I don't have a joke about a tower of cards, but even if I did I wouldn't tell you because I'm stubborn and you sir, are insufferable!"*

*Please note, and I must state for the record, that while this passage MAY make him come off like a complete meanie, Esteban can be quite hilarious, when he wants to, and most of the time his posturing just rolls right off my back because I know he's a man and all weird about saying things like, "Maria, you are quite hilarious and such a good dresser, and I wish I could be as funny and smart as you, and I steal all your jokes and pass them off as my own," even though I know he means exactly that, word for word.

And if you follow me on Twitter (and if you don't follow me on Twitter, may I politely ask, why the eff not? Do you just not like constant jokes and witticisms? Is that it?) or are my friend on gchat, you will be very aware that what I believe to be my own raison d'etre is coming up with something funny to say. I know I'm not like Michael Ian Black on Twitter level of funny, but I amuse myself and in today's myopic, narcissistic world, isn't that all that matters?

(That was NOT rhetorical. The answer to that question is: NO. You need people to confirm and validate your myopic, narcissistic world view)

And so I'd like to share with you all my top status of the week, as so christened by yours truly. And I know the week isn't over yet, but I'm calling the rest of the weekend "a wash." GET IT?! BECAUSE NOW A HURRICANE IS COMING?!!!!?!

So why again aren't you following me on Twitter?

OK, a quick preface. I have this anonymous-ISH blog, because when I first started, I didn't want these nebulous, faceless people on the Internet to know too much about me. And then something happened and it became more that I didn't want anyone in my "real" life to find me, so that's mostly why I won't put my last name on here, so as not to be google-able.

And when I told my therapist all this, she's like, doesn't all that compartmentalization exhaust you? And I'm all like, duhhh, why do you think I'm here?

Anyway! This past week, I've been dealing a lot with all these different Maria's that I have created and have to manage, and while there is a polite, professional, genial "work" Maria, another side of me often comes out at work. And that side has been given a name.

Athena, after the Greek goddess of war.

Athena comes out when someone annoys me with their stupidity or some unreasonable request or just stubbornness and flagrant display of ego.

So basically, Athena comes out AT LEAST once a day.

I blame it on my Greekness, which is quite convenient, since people will excuse a lot of my ranting/fuming/temper on my hot-blooded Mediterranean-ness.

While I'm getting heated about something, I'll often get IMs or phone calls during or after that ask me if Athena is OK, that they can hear Athena roaring from across the floor, that Athena's claw [my elaborate hand gestures] are striking fear into the hearts of all mortals.

And as any copywriter in advertising/marketing well knows, at least once a day, you're asked to rethink your writing to produce a "hard-hitting" call to action, something we want the consumer specifically to do.

And then I basked in the glory of THIS:

:) :) :)

tee hee

Yes, even Esteban agreed. I am hilarious. My day was made.

I Will Never Grow Old Again

2011-08-19T22:15:00.000-04:00

I have reached the age where I will never again grow any older.

29.

This is the age I will be for the rest of my life, should anyone ever ask.

Like all holidays that revolve around giving a personal individual attention (i.e. Valentine's Day, Administrative Professional's Day, etc.), I tend to manage my expectations about my birthday. If anyone remembers and actually wishes me a happy birthday, I'm pretty happy.

I really felt the birthday love this year, and was inundated with well wishes on Twitter and Facebook, text, phone, email, etc. It was really quite nice, and I did get caught up in it, despite myself... even though a certain friend of mine named Esteban* said that like Don Draper told Peggy, you have to stop making a big deal about your birthday after 26.

*Not his real name. Though I've always WISHED I had a friend named Esteban.

Now I'd like to share with you the highlights of my birthday:

On the Friday before my birthday, my boss sent me a text saying there was a client emergency and he needed me in a meeting at 2. So I'm sitting around waiting for a meeting when a shrill cry comes out of the office hallways, screaming "Where's Maria?! Where's Maria?!"

Who was it? My fairy godfather.

My coworkers hired a singing birthday-gram - a fat man in a white tutu who brought me balloons and a "crown" as he sang and danced for me and dragged me around the office since he was told that I love being a princess.

Thanks, coworkers.

The smile that says: Is this really happening?

The face that says: Oh God, this really IS happening to me.

I was trying to be a good sport, but you could see the look of abject HORROR on my face.

See, I like being the center of attention sometimes, but I was, for whatever reason, reluctant to be lead around by a dancing fairy man with a broken wing, back hair tufting out of his leotard and B.O. that smelled of chicken soup, day-old cigarettes and whiskey.

At least some of my balloons were pretty. (from one of my good friends)

My birthday crown

Now onto THE PRESENTS!! Some of them were sweet, some of them were random (like the 2012 page-a-day calendar a friend got me. Random), some of them were returned, and all of them made me smile, in one way or another.

I get made fun of a lot because I put a lot of thought into the greeting cards I send. Most people claim they just pick up a card that says what it basically needs to and then check out, but not me. I like to get specialty cards and then like to write really thoughtful messages in them. My crowning achievement was when my friend called me to tell her that my words had moved her to tears in the card I sent her congratulating her on her engagement. SCORE!

Maybe because I'm a writer, or because of my lifelong love affair with words, but I love getting cards, and even though I know Facebook is the laziest way of saying Happy Birthday to someone, it still make me feel good. Because words have power, yada yada. So here are some of the cards that made me laugh, smile, go awwww, etc. Oh, and the presents too.

Because of my alabaster skin and "doll-like" features, my sister says I remind her of Snow White, so this card was kinda cute.

Because my coworkers know I LOVE PUNS!!

Tee Hee

I liked this for many reasons, but it was just nice to hear that I am considered the resident office therapist.

Because I really am.

And this card made me smile the most. I probably could've written his name, but I just want to keep this private for now.

HELLS TO THE YEAH I AM!

"Can you teach me some of those dance moves?" - Because I am constantly dancing in the office. It made me smile.

FAVORITE PRESENT:

This is a print from an artist called Greg Stones who makes a series called Zombies Hate. This one is "Zombies Hate Zip Lines" but others have included penguins, ninjas, etc. Check him out online HERE.

Finally, when I drink, I tend to become what is known among my friends as a Makeout Slut/Bandit/Queen. And of course, in today's digital age, none of that can go undocumented, so two friends gave me presents of a series of pictures of me making out with people on my birthday. This one was sent digitally, and the other one was even framed!

If you want to know, even though this one started chaste and tight-lipped, it ended up being a good kiss!

I had real hesitations about posting this photo, because it's so gross to see, but when I unwrapped this, I couldn't stop laughing. I looked at it, looked away, looked at it, looked away, and just kept laughing. The guy in the pic is actually a really good friend. That I make out with only very occasionally.

And that seemed to be the theme of my birthday. Non-stop laughter.

I couldn't ask for more.

Online Stalk Me Please!!!!!

2011-08-16T23:47:00.002-04:00

You may ask yourself, my goodness, Maria how do you find the time to be so hilarious on so many distinct social media channels, in addition to being so princess-like in your demeanor?

I would answer: it's the cross I must bear, my friends.

So in addition to my In Real Life Public Persona that is my Facebook profile, I have my Where I Find My Solace Even Though My IRL Coworkers and Family Are Starting To Find Me Twitter account, my What Was Once Anonymous But Is Now Probably Pretty Searchable With Just A Scant Bit of Information Blog (this one) and now a Pinterest account and a fashion blog on Tumblr!

FELLOW FASHIONISTAS, PAY ATTENTION, THIS IS FOR YOU!

Check it out HERE at http://thesarcasticsartorialist.tumblr.com/

You'll get to see things like this!

PEOPLE WHO LIKE BUTTONS, THIS IS FOR YOU!

Follow me on Pinterest HERE (http://pinterest.com/copymaria/pins/) to see things like THIS!

And of course, keep reading my blog please :)

There Is No Sword...

2011-08-10T22:59:00.000-04:00

....just my will.

I have bested my Fruit Ninja high score. Again.

And then because I love a good taunt:

(Seriously, give me your phone number and I will most certainly send you texts just like this.)

Sayonara, readers.... until the next high score...

"The Password is Charleston"

2011-08-07T02:14:00.004-04:00

I love the 1920's! And I've always wanted to go to a speakeasy and know the secret password! So the secret password to this video is: charleston.

Before you watch, please note, this has nothing to do with speakeasies or the 1920's, nor is this my much-famed 1920's gangster impersonation which is not half-bad. That video is still to come. No instead, this is a video about why I am single. And that is because vlogging is like, SO MUCH QUICKER than writing. I've been super busy in this past week with no time for anything. And that's why video-blogging is super convenient now that I'm over having to listen to the sound of my voice.

But not to fear, I will find time again to type and type and undo the typing that I love so much.

Anyway, onto the video.

Why Are You Single? from Maria on Vimeo.

The Sarcastic Sartorialist Debut

2011-08-02T22:58:00.000-04:00

So I have another bright idea!

If I were telling my friend Matt this, as in, "Matt, I have another idea!" he'd lower his head, look up at me, and say in an overly concerned tone: "Maria... is this another one of your manias?"

And that should be a warning to you all never to even slightly repeat to your friends, even in passing, anything that your therapist says about you in one of your sessions. Unless you want it used against you at all times.

Another thing I might say is, "Matt I have a plan! Oh boy, I've got a plan!" And even though Acky says that in my favorite movie of all time, One Crazy Summer, after I say that, I launch into my Bobcat Goldthwaite impersonation which EVEN MATT SAYS is my best impression of all.

Video to come soon. I have that, a Veruca Salt impression and a 1920's gangster to show all of you. Soon. First, onto the original idea for my post.

I have an idea for a fashion blog! I'm not sure if I want to start a whole new blog, so I might start posting some fashion stuff on here and then seeing if there is any traction for it and then I'll take over the fashion world. Just one step at a time.

Because in addition to hilarious gchat status updates and tweets, the other thing I spend the majority of my time doing online is shopping. Just ask my credit card companies.

I start most days on gchat, before my hilarious thoughts hit me, with an update about what I'm wearing that day. For example, past entries have included:

The glasses were not by choice because I was having a flare-up with my eye issue. Stupid eye. The lack of pedicure was just because I was being lazy.

Now that I'm traveling so much, I've started to really love packing. Before I was one of those overpackers who packed stuff "just in case," but now I have it down to a science almost and enjoy laying things out in my bag. What this has to do with anything, I'm not sure.

More than just beaded, it was a bib necklace. It was super cute!!

As I've been doing this for 2 months now, I started considering that I wanted to take pictures of my outfits, not just try to describe them. And then I had this convo:

And then I remembered that I am crushingly insecure about my appearance, and thought, I didn't want to open myself about to ridicule or judgement.

And then I remembered that I am not that person anymore, and I accept myself for how I am. Because I'm all zen and shit now. :)

So here's Picture #1. More posts like this to follow! I think!

Fully aware that I took this in an office restroom. But at least no one was peeing at the time. And I know, I know... I've got such a stereotypically Greek body. Round, round, round.

No Internet? No Problem.

2011-07-22T00:46:00.000-04:00

On Tuesday, I was in a meeting where I was asked to book a flight to Chicago for the next day. For another meeting.

Yay meetings!

I've been traveling a lot for work lately, and I seriously don't mind it. I don't have a husband, or kids, or animals, or anything really that I am responsible for, other than myself, so I've become something like the de facto person to send on these business trips. And now that I've gone to so many, they think I'm more than capable of going by myself, which is nice and not nice.

Nice in the fact that I like to remain largely silent while traveling - even in cars. I mean, some exceptions apply obviously, but I'm not as chatty as I usually am "on the road." No desire for small talk. Also, I like to think solo travelers have an air of mystery about them, and goodness knows I welcome any opportunity to appear mysterious as opposed to the open book I normally am.

(I don't like traveling alone to meetings however because eating dinner alone is one of those things I've never been completely confident about, even though I want to be, and also, being in meetings alone with other agencies is tough without your team there since you have no one to back you up.)

I also suspect that my company knows that if they send me, that no one will miss me for a few days. Which is sadly true.

And it spares me from hearing for the umpteenth time about how "oh, my daughter is growing up without me," "I hate not waking up in the morning and bringing her to school," "paternal abandonment causes serious deviant issues" etc. etc. And aside from my own parents, no one really gives a shit where I am on a daily basis.

So yeah, send me wherever. And I like Chicago, so why not?

However, what I don't like is the last-minute whirlwind nature of these trips because the airline fare is ridiculous and the corporate travel agent my company uses could not find me anything under a grand, nor could they find me a hotel room downtown. So I got an airport hotel.

Which skeeved me out at first, but then, because I'm like, all zen now, I remembered how these are first-world problems, and seriously, I sleep in the hotel room. That's it. I don't need a lot.

Until I arrived and realize, I do need things. I need internet. I don't have to have a mint on my pillow. But I need internet.

And this particular hotel was charging $9.99 for the privilege.

$9.99?! I don't know if this is communism or capitalism at its worst, but I thought the internet was free! (I mean, I know it's not free and you pay for it, but seriously, wi-fi is just, like, expected nowadays!)

So a mixture of cheapness/it's-the-principle-ness in me hemmed and hawed about clicking the I Agree terms and conditions and decided to flip on the television instead. Except that stupid plastic piece of garbage wouldn't click on either.

I looked around the room. No internet. No TV. I would normally leave my room and go walk around, but remember, I was not downtown, I was in 30 minutes away at the airport hotel, and didn't want to spend $50 bucks on the cab ride in. I didn't feel like reading my book because I was almost done and wanted to save it for the plane ride home.

At least I still had a working phone that kept me somewhat connected to the outside world.

After my satisfying but short dance party, I remembered the best thing I have in my purse. My trusty Flip Video Cam!!

I really do use it wayyyy more often than it seems, at least on this blog, because every time I go to post a video of myself, I watch it "one more time" and then chicken out, thinking, I sound like such an asshole.

But that's the good thing about being alone in a hotel room for a few hours. You're so bored that anything sounds like a good idea, so I decided to be brave and post 3 of my favorite, more embarrassing videos.

Before you watch them, please note, I know how bad my impersonations are. I am not trying to be a professional impersonator or comedian. My humor lies in how bad they are and my insistence on doing them anyway.

Further, this is what I like doing. Meaning, yeah, terrible celebrity impersonations, but I mean, sitting on my bed and coming up with dumb stuff to share. I was lamenting to my friends how, as a single person, my excuses for declining plans are often deemed as "less legitimate" than my non-single friends' excuses.

For example, they can say things like, "Oh I'd LOVE to come, but I can't. [Boyfriend] and I have been SO busy at work and we haven't had time to connect so we're just gonna spend a quiet night in, just the two of us."

But if I said something like, "Oh I'd LOVE to come, but I can't. I've been really busy at work and haven't had any time to do the things that I like doing, so that's what I want to do on my Saturday. Spend time, just me."

I get one of two looks. The sad look of you poor thing, you're going to be like this forever, aren't you? OR, I get the, "Really Maria? Really? You're going to spend time alone in your room like you always do instead of hanging out?"

UGH. Do they think these episodes of the Bachelorette are gonna watch themselves?! That my email inbox will just clear itself out?

Who is going to update my blog if I don't? No one, that's who.

I've learned and grown a lot in this last year. Honestly, sometimes I look back and don't even recognize the person I was a year ago who was freaking out over turning 28. Now that 29 is on the horizon, I dunno, I just feel good. I'm not 100% happy with everything in my life, but I'm not miserable either. I don't feel ashamed of being single, like it's this itchy label I have to get off. If someone is ready for all this jelly, great! If someone can't say my name, say my name, say my name, then he ain't running game.

I'm not sure why I started quoting Destiny Child. Like, at all.

Anyway, this is the happy work of a happy person. My way of expressing that I am more comfortable with who I am. By pretending to be other people for 15 seconds.

this is what started it all. I impersonated Yoda during lunch one day and the entire room looked around like, HUH? I had done a robot voice and said, "I am Yoda." Since they didn't get it, I was like *face palm!* "My bad guys!!! Let me do it again." And then said "Yoda I am" in the same robot voice. Anyway, it was really funny at the time, and now it's become kinda my thing.

I don't care what anyone says, I think this one is pretty obvious who I am trying to be.

By far, the worst of the impressions. But... cute bangs, right?!

"White Guy" is another favorite impression of mine, but sadly, there is no video.

This post comes courtesy of being bored in a hotel room. So this will either go over well and I'll be thankful or I will get made fun of, and I'll wish I just spend the $50 to take a cab ride into downtown Chicago... Or no one will notice, and I'll continue on living.

Hope you enjoyed though.

Run for Your Life!

2011-07-17T02:03:00.004-04:00

When someone tells me that running a marathon is on their bucket list, my reaction is always equal parts admiration and incredulousness.

While I can respect the hard work and dedication that comes with training and running a marathon, I'm often left wondering, why?

To me, a bucket list should be something awesome. Like, I want to get called up on stage at a Green Day concert and play a song with the band. Maybe from their pre-1994 oeuvre, to show them how much I've continually loved them.

I want to go to King's Cross and run into Platform 9 3/4 and get magically transported to Hogwarts, get sorted into Gryffindor (Ravenclaw would be a distant second)* and marry Sirius Black, since he's clearly a Bad Boy and troubled, but with a heart of gold.

*commonly referred to as the Hermione Granger Conundrum

Or, I want a young budding singer songwriter to fall madly in love with me, and because of nebulous forces outside of our control (too much emotion, young love, family pressure, career differences, timing, etc.), one of us would break the other's heart and he would then be forced to pen a hit song about me.

Sometimes in this scenario, I broke his heart and the song is all about how much he really loved me, and other times he broke my heart and the song is still all about how much he really loved me.

But when it comes to marathons, I'm left scratching my head and wondering why anyone would want to subject themselves to months-long training for an hours-long event that makes your body feel like it's going to shut down on itself.

People vomit, faint, cramp and seize running these things. The first person who ever ran a Marathon? The reason there are such things as marathons? Yeah, that dude DIED, along with a whole bunch of other people just like him, just for running them.

And guys, people shit on themselves during marathons. Why would you partake in an activity where there is a chance that you're gonna shit on yourself?**

**And before you ask, YES, that is exactly how I feel about childbirth. Childbirth. Marathons. Two strenuous activities that I don't really ever want to be involved because they look painful, your body takes a long to recover after them, and oh yeah, you can shit on yourself in front of a live audience while doing them.

So yeah, I've never understood The Cult of Running***, but there are so few things that make life enjoyable, and for me it's video games, music and eating, so if someone wants to run, who am I to stop, judge or sneer at them just because every activity I like doing is best enjoyed while seated?

***Not an expert on runners by any means, but I know a few and they're easily spotted by just how important they think their running is to all of mankind.

I am, however, a big fan of saying things like: "Going out for a run! Be back in THREE minutes!"

These are the jokes, folks.

I wish I could search my Facebook archives more easily to prove to you that I really wrote what I'm about to tell you, all these years ago, but do you know what my motivation was during the one race I've ever run, my 5K training?

Zombies.

I would run outside or on the treadmill and would pretend zombies were chasing me. That is how I kept pushing myself to go faster, harder or longer. It took a lot more imaginative powers on the treadmill - because I think the last place you want to try to outrun a zombie on is a treadmill, am I right?!!

Clearly, my creative visualization aided me quite well during the actual race, because I finished it in under 30 minutes. Which was wayyyyyy better than I was expecting to finish, even though I'm aware how slow it really is in general. So now I never really want to run another one because I'm pretty happy with that time and have nothing left to prove.

Until I saw what could be described as the most awesome thing I've ever seen:

It's an entire race and then zombies appear and chase you! And try to eat your brains, i.e. steal your flags!!!!

Why has no one thought of this before?

I am seriously considering forgetting everything I once said about never wanting to run another race again and signing up for this. How awesome would this be? I can imagine my adrenaline pumping, getting really freaked out, having fun, and also, testing my survival skills in case the zombie apocalypse should ever come!

Check out the site HERE. And definitely check out the VIDEO.

And at the very least, I think it'd make a good story for this old blog.

Let's Meet

2011-07-12T22:20:00.002-04:00

Everyone has their most annoying part of the work day. For some it might be when a coworker bombards you about how your weekend/evening was and you've barely walked through the door, let alone, put down your bags, set up and/or poured your first cup of coffee.

For others the most annoying part of the day might be going into the communal kitchen fridge and seeing that someone has taken their Diet Pepsi/leftovers/Greek yogurt, thus forcing their hand to write a passive aggressive note about PLEASE Respect Shared Spaces!!!!!!!!!

For me, the worst part of the day is being stuck in meetings. And unfortunately, I'm invited to A LOT of meetings. It's not atypical for me to be in meetings from the moment I get into work straight through the end of the day, sometimes straight through lunch. I actually did have to have a meeting with my boss about the fact that I have too many meetings and I was getting overwhelmed.

I've taken to bringing my laptop with me to meetings for two reasons:

1) being in so many meetings during the days was severely hampering my ability to actually get ANY work done during the actual work day, so during lulls in the meeting, I answer other emails and do more of my quick writing assignments.

2) I cannot be away from gchat and Twitter for too long or I get twitchy. I have hilarious thoughts I MUST SHARE BEFORE THEY GO AWAY.

The only time I don't bring my laptop is when the client is physically present OR when we're having some kind of formal presentation.

I like sharing these kinds of thoughts during meetings, like the time we had a conference call with one of my coworkers who was out of the office.*

10:06 a.m. - [coworker] is 6 minutes late to the meeting. let's get this show on the road!! #livebloggingmymeeting
10:11 a.m. - finally! [coworker] calls in. #livebloggingthemeeting
10:13 a.m. - traffic, vacations, the weather. we've talked about every thing EXCEPT why we're actually on the call for. small talk results in small pieces of my soul dying. #livebloggingmymeeting
10:16 a.m. - and we're off! #livebloggingthemeeting
10:20 a.m. - we are getting REALLY hung up on page 4. #14pagestogo #itsgonnabealongone #livebloggingthemeeting
10:24 a.m. we just FLEW through pages 7-8. YESSSSS!!!!!! #almostthere
10:29 a.m. we are almost at page 11. my portion of the presentation is coming up! #LBMM
10:34 a.m. I know my boss is gonna say something to me AGAIN about slowing down, but MAN can I talk fast!!! #letsgetthisoverwithalready #livebloggingthemeeting
10:37 a.m. last page!!!!
10:39 a.m. we're done!!! #meetingadjourned!
10:43 a.m. GAHHHH!!! like the killer in the last reel, they keep coming up with ONE MORE THING to talk about. #whenisthisover?!
10:48 a.m. ok this is like the part of the party where you're saying good-bye for two hours. we've said everything already. now we're just repeating ourselves.
10:53 a.m. DONE. 7 minutes until my next meeting. what can I eat? #livebloggingmymeeting

*this is purely a sample. I've written it just for my own amusement, this is SO not something I would be doing. In the event of an actual, live meeting, the sound you would hear would be me nodding and murmuring in total agreement with all the points made.**

**you believe me, right? Because when you agree, meetings are over quicker.***

***Har har! If any of my bosses are coworkers are reading this, you know I'm a jokester! I LOVE meetings!****

****It's been scientifically proven that coworkers cannot read past 3 footnotes. Especially in mouse type. You guys know the truth!!!!!!

Today we had a meeting and one of my coworkers took photos of me, unbeknownst to me, at least for a little while. These are the results:

Here, I can presume I'm updating my status on gchat. Hilariously, I might add.

[I look so serious though!]

Here you might think I've noticed I'm being observed. But no, not yet. My amused expression is coming from either reading someone else's, or most likely my own status, and laughing. This is better than the occasions when I literally LOL at funny statuses or exchanges with a friend and look like a crazy person in the middle of a not funny meeting.

A-ha! I noticed that I'm being photodocumented.

So now I'm doing my I'm Staring Wistfully Into Space Because I'm Deep And Mysterious Look.

Some observations: I have nothing on my lips here. My natural color is so pink-ish! Also, was a little heavyhanded with the blush. Might need to cool that. Finally, candid photoshoots from your friend might be the only thing that makes meetings worth it.

Because meetings suck otherwise.

My Own Little World

2011-07-11T00:18:00.000-04:00

Late on Saturday afternoon I attended my former coworker's birthday/housewarming party (after a morning of getting called in to work for marketing emergencies!!!), and for a myriad of reasons I can't quite explain, I just wasn't in an overly talkative mood. I get like this sometimes. When I first joined my kettlebell gym, I was so so quiet. I just kinda stuck to myself, did my workout, and just smiled politely at everyone. Now, I'm like, little Ms. Chatterbox and the people I've become friends with always comment on how different I am than they thought I was.

When a new guy joined and just tried to friendly chat me up and I was my usual Polite But Slightly Standoffish Self, one of the the guys actually interjected and said, maybe to make excuses for what he perceived as my rudeness (maybe?) "Oh, just give Maria time. She's just like that at first, but soon enough she'll start talking your ear off." Which I can't even argue with.

But even with my friends, I'll get into a mood. And it's not a bad or sad mood. Like at all. It's a quiet mood. I'm just, off somewhere else, thinking about other things.

As I was pouring myself a margarita, one of the girls turned to me and said, "You're not here right now are you? I can always tell. There are just times when I'll look at you, and I can tell you're just off in your own little world." Which I again, can't even argue with.

I like to think that this is the writer in me. Others might say the weirdo.

And now I've found THE PERFECT WAY To Wander Off Into Your Own Little World In Public But in a COMPLETELY SOCIALLY ACCEPTABLE WAY.

You become a DJ.

This is me learning.

PS, totally not related, but this dress was backless - my favorite!!

What's nice about being a DJ is that you get to spend a lot of time playing music, and I love all different kinds of music. And you're part of the party, but not really. People will stop by, chat with you, talk to you about music, or the party, request a song, and then wander back off to mingle with others. If you don't feel like talking, you can put your headphones on and pretend you need to totally focus on the music.

You get to play a long song, and then say things like, "OK, I've got 4 and half minutes. Gotta take a bathroom break! Be right back!" and feel really cool while your friends groan and make fun of you for thinking you're soooo important.

My friend Christan totally called me out on the fact that I was just taking over DJ-ing duties from my friend (who is an established, professional DJ) just because I was being anti-social, and she was right, but also, it was fun to play songs and seeing people respond to it.

I played songs that I wanted to hear, which are the songs that used to be hits a little while ago, but you forgot about. Like, I wouldn't play anything on the iTunes Top 100 currently, but maybe they were 6 months to a year or so ago.

And then really older stuff. Like, people are eating dessert? Why not play a longer, chill-er song like the Dr. Dog version of "Heart it Races"? Oh, people want to dance? Got some dive-bar classics right in the arsenal ("You Give Love A Bad Name," "Sweet Caroline," etc.). Night winding down? Play some Moby, "Porcelain," but not totally depress them and throw in the Gwen Stefani remix of "Southside."

At one point, I joked, after a friend telling me how much she liked the stuff I was playing, "That's because I am diabolical. I am controlling all your moods and you will dance when I say dance, and you will sway when I want you to!"

I was only half kidding. It's sorta true! You do get a read on the crowd. And it sorta is a power trip.

Hours later, clearly I got more confident here. Hair back, shades on.

Turntable.fm has got nothing on the real thing.

My favorite part was when I "mixed" (is that a DJ term??!) together two songs: "Cupid's Chokehold" by Gym Class Heroes and "Black & Yellow" by Wiz Khalifa. My timing between the two songs was perfect and everyone was impressed!!*

*I'm a quick learner. They were less impressed, however, with my overexcitement at that particular performance, because I literally pumped my fist in the air and was like, so happy!!! My DJ Yoda told me I had to play things more cool, like, "Oh? You liked that? Cool." and then just mentally bank the compliment, but that is soooo not me.

My friend found THIS VIDEO and apparently, that's how happy I was.**

**I was NOT! Buuuuuuut, like I said, there is something very satisfying about playing music and not only having people like it, but mixing them together seamlessly. So Old Man DJ, I get it. I GET IT!

But then, in a startling twist of fate,*** I woke up the next morning and felt terrible!

***dramatic overstatement

I was just talking about how I never update my status anymore on Facebook, and I really haven't in months, but my Twitter compatriots were just NOT giving me enough feedback about my fainting spell today.

#ineedattention

Have you ever fainted?

I never had, even though, CONFESSION, I've always wanted to. And now that I have, I can tell you it's more annoying that anything else, because my confusion, dizziness, and the room is spinning feeling I had lasted for hours.

And there was no fainting couch.

I woke up this morning, and the room was spinning. And we've all had those mornings when you drink too much and that happens, but I had 1 margarita and 2 beers over the course of 12 hours, and was in no way even close to drunk. I didn't have the cotton-mouthed hangover feeling, so I just tried to shake it off and went to kettlebells.

DUMB!

After the party, we went to a local bar, and a friend was talking to me about how much stronger I am now. And she point-blanked asked me if it was because of my crush on my kettlebell instructor. I just laughed, and totally admitted it. Of course. I pushed myself so hard all these months because I was totally trying to impress him!

So this morning, when I'm doing 50 something burpees at warp speed, and I have my instructor tell me how awesome my form is, there is no way the spinning sensation in my head is gonna stop me.

Until it did.

I can't really describe what happened other than you're there and then you're not there. And unfortunately, even after I was back, my feeling of queasiness and room spinning never quite subsided.

And because I suffer from an overabundance of pride, I was more embarrassed and just tried to brush it off and continued my workout. Again, DUMB.

But when I got back home, I felt like I was gonna puke and it took me HOURS to feel like I was walking on solid ground and not at sea. Even now my head is not QUITE right, but obviously, I'm typing so I can't be that bad.

For those just tuning on, "the mati" is of course, the Greek term for the evil eye.

my bestie Stella went to see a performance of Much Ado About Nothing on the beach, which I totally would've gone to. Is it just me, but is every weekend of your summer completely double booked with fun plans?!

Honestly, it's pathetic how transparent I am.

I have GOT to work on being more dark and mysterious.

The Greek Bachelorette, Part II

2011-07-03T01:26:00.000-04:00

You can catch up with Part I, HERE. You should, it will make more sense.

This past week, my family had an impromptu family dinner night in the middle of the week, which is not typical for us since we all have very different schedules.

During dinner, my mother reminds me of the Greek radio station debacle and tells me that there has been an UPDATE: I have a gentleman caller. Actually a few gentleman callers, but my aunt has been prescreening candidates and has narrowed it down to just one. And apparently, this guy Kosta, a late 30's doctor from Long Island, AND HIS MOTHER are really, really, REALLY looking forward to meeting me.

I just started laughing. "You can't be serious."

My brother chimes in and says, "Oh no, she's completely serious."

So I continue laughing, and say, "Haha, so what did you say to them?"

And no one answered immediately.

And then my mother says, "What are you doing on Saturday? You're always doing something on Saturdays* why don't you spend it with us?**

*My parents think I have actual social plans. I often DO have plans but I always prefer to just sit on my bed and do the things I want to do. Which I will show you at the end of this post.

**I have already fallen for this, come-to-dinner-and-spend-time-with-us ploy once before just to be set-up with a Greek weirdo, so I was NOT falling for it again.

"NO! You didn't?! You invited him over here?! There is no way. No way. That is so weird!!!"

"Why is it weird? It's not weird. You're weird!"

"No MOM! It's weird! It's not like we even know them! They're from Long Island. I don't know anyone on Long Island who is Greek. I would like to keep it that way. I'm not going to have complete weirdo strangers here. What if we don't like them? And it's awkward?"

My Dad, unhelpfully suggests with a laugh: "Well, you can go sleep on the couch in the other room like you did last time."

Me, imploringly: "No! Dad! Come on. You're supposed to be on my side on this. This is weird, right?"

Dad: "No, come on, Maria, it's not that weird. You might like him. What if you like him? And he's a doctor."

That's when I noticed the glint in my Dad's eye. And that was either because of the riches he imagined this guy to have or because this was all a big practical joke, like the kind my family always, always plays on each other.

(Examples: the time we splattered crumbled chocolate cake pop mix all over the garage floor and told my Dad the dogs had explosive diarrhea and he had to clean it up; the fake snakes we put in the grill, doorways, laundry baskets, etc. to scare the shit out of each other; and just the raging lies we tell each other to wind each other up and then get to dismiss them after they reach hysteria with "Dude, RELAX. You're so crazy.")

Me: "You guys are lying. This is a joke, right? They're not really coming, are they?"

And that's when my brother says gleefully: "No Maj.** They're coming. Why else do you think we're all here for family dinner in the middle of the week? I'm still here just because I've been waiting for your reaction. Get me the popcorn!!"

**Maj is my family's nickname for me. I could try to phonetically tell you how it's said, but I don't know that anyone gets it until you hear it. And I could've written Maria there, but my brother almost never calls me that and it felt false to write anything other than Maj.

And that's when my stomach sank. I knew my brother was right. This WAS real. That's why we were having dinner that night. So they could tell me.

"No. No! I don't care Mom. I never asked for this. I don't want him to come here. I don't want his mother to come here. If you want to date his mother, go right ahead and but keep me out of this. I don't care, I will not be here on Saturday, so do whatever you want but I WILL NOT COME."

"Just look at his picture. Maybe you'll like him. And he's a gynecologist."

And then the entire room erupted in laughter.

Me: "A gynecologist??! That is SO weird. That confirms it. NO NO NO. So creepy!! A gynecologist who has his MOTHER set him up on dates? What is wrong with him? Does he not know how to talk to women, just their vaginas?"

More laughter.

Me: "And can you imagine what it's like to be with a gynecologist? He'd probably be all awkward and gentle about everything. 'OK, Maria, I'm going to gently insert two fingers in you. You'll feel a little pressure and it'll be over in 2 minutes.' Um, no thanks!!!!"

Everyone is dying of laughter - except my Dad, and yes, it's a little weird to talk about these kinds of things with your father in the room, but whatever, this was comedy gold and I was not going to waste these jokes.

And it's not like he got to hear the jokes between my coworkers and I when I recounted this story for them the next morning. It was funny because I started just telling my small core group, but by the end of it, I was quite animated, and I stopped myself at one point and said, "Is someone listening?" And one of my friends answered, "Um... everyone is." It was a good solid half hour of laughter and two departments' worth of people offering their opinions and humor.

Sample line: "Um, yes, excuse me Doctor. What do I do if there's, forgive the expression, too much cheese on the taco?"

Anyway, back to dinner. My mother implores me again to just look at his photo.

I don't know what I was expecting. Maybe her to show me on her phone. Or to pull out a computer-printed pixelated photo that I was going to have to squint at.

No. Instead, she pulls out an 8x10 EFFING GLOSSY!!!!!! Who even has those?!

He sent in a glossy photo of himself in what was presumably his med school yearbook photo doing the Rodin Thinker pose:

apologies to Alan Thicke

But then there was a moment when I stopped laughing and couldn't bring myself to laugh anymore. It wasn't that he was hideous (he actually wasn't, to quote Cher Horowitz, completely unfortunate looking). It was just that the picture made it real. That there was a real person who wanted to meet me, who's entire family was also equally, if not more so, anticipating meeting me and the pressure of all that, the expectation on me, it overwhelmed me.

And I just stopped joking, and said emphatically that no, I did not want to meet him. And I think my parents saw that I was serious, and they quickly said I didn't have to worry.

My brother however immediately posted this to my Facebook wall:

And during my emphatic no, during the no-more-laughing, do you know who the first person I thought of? The person that my gut reaction to think of was?

You. All of you. The first thing I thought of and felt immediately protective of was my blog.

I know I will not be able to articulate the thought, and I haven't discussed it in therapy yet to be able to formulate the words, but I felt protective of my blog and my ability to have it. And I just felt, an old school Greek guy who has his mother set him up on dates and wants to meet my entire family before even taking me out to coffee let alone dinner, would never, ever, ever understand me. Or my blog is me, or a part of me that I am protective of.

It's what I've always understood but never could formulate and maybe if you're not Greek you won't get it, but they're just too old school to understand that I'm not a typical good Greek girl. I don't spend my day hoping a nice Greek boy is going to find me attractive, I don't go to distant relations' weddings, baptisms, parties, etc. to get the Greek gossip or talk about who's diner is going under or who is dating who or whatever Greek drama is going around.

That guy in the photo, however unfairly maybe, I just felt, that guy in the photo would never understand me or my blog or get me, whatever that means, and get why I update my status like I do, and why I post what I post.

Like, chatting with a friend of mine to tell him how excited I am about my purchases this weekend, which included a new haircut, highlights and coraly/pink/red jeans!!! And how I got all of those things in one cute picture and how I don't care how attention-ho-ish it is to post it on here too, but this is what I do on my Saturday nights and what I post on my Sunday mornings and I'm always gonna go with my gut.

Which told me to post this picture. Enjoy!

I do it for YOU, blog readers. I do it for YOU!!

The Greek Bachelorette, Part I

2011-07-03T00:23:00.002-04:00

In one of my previous posts about Jennifer Aniston being Greek* and People magazine trying to hook her up with eligible Greek men at her father's request, I made a comment that the only difference between Jennifer Aniston and myself** is that I didn't have a national publication playing matchmaker for me. Otherwise, we both have family member ardently wishing for us to keep the Greek traditions alive.

*Half Greek
**Not to mention the rock hard abs, celebrity boyfriends, and millions in her bank account

If I had known it would seem like a lament, or that I was secretly wishing that if not People magazine writers themselves, then at least I longed for a family member or friend to set me up with an eligible Greek, I'd never have written that post.

But apparently, the karmic floodgates have been opened and I am my family's new "project" however unsolicited it was on my part.

My aunt is especially has taken this Herculean*** task on for herself.

***Get it? Herculean because it's a big task to find me a boyfriend but also, Herculean because I'm Greek?!

My aunt is a guest speaker on a Greek radio station for their late-night Saturday programming. Basically, it's a panel of Greeks who discuss a certain topic every week that relates to Greeks and whatever Greeks in the greater Tri-State area have nothing better to do on a Saturday night, call in and talk to my aunt and the other panelists.

I don't listen to this station because a) I don't listen to radio and b) I most certainly do not listen to Greek radio. Greek radio reminds me of being a kid and sitting inside my grandparents' house on rainy days and having to be really quiet while the news was on because my grandfather was hard of hearing. So Greek radio feels like a punishment to me.

And besides, I have way better things to be doing on a Saturday night. Like coming home early from whatever social plans I have so I can blog, listen to music, download movies, play games and online shop and ~~daydream about~~ get my clothes ready for my a.m. kettlebell ~~instructor~~ class.

A few Sundays ago, I got out of my kettlebell class and saw a missed call from my mother. Usually when I get a missed call from my mother, the message she usually leaves is just the same every time: her singing "I just called to say, I love you" which goes on for about 2 minutes and then she gives me a guilt trip for not spending enough time with her.

This time, however, I would've preferred her off-pitch croonings to the message I received instead.

My mother proceeds to inform me that last night, my Thea (that's just Greek for aunt) announced on the radio that she has "a beautiful niece" who is Greek, unmarried and looking for love. She continued to give them my full name and have them look me up on Facebook and THEN invited any eligible bachelors to send in their names and photos so she can arrange a meeting with me.

As I'm listening to this, it was literally a roller coaster of emotions:

EMBARRASSMENT: "Oh God, this is what happens to really really really ugly people."

PRIDE: "I know this is like, only Greek radio, but I'm like, kinda famous." #anyattentionisgoodattention

ANGER: "I don't even tell my blog readers my last name! WTF, that annoys me."

FEAR: "What if some cretins respond? What if they look me up and see my pic and think NAH! and no one calls?!"

RESIGNATION: "Whatever, how many people actually listen to that program? 10? They're probably all from New Jersey anyway, and that's too far to date someone."

And then I promptly forgot about this whole incident and carried on with my life, figuring, honestly, who was really going to call in? And even if they did, I'd almost undoubtedly say no.

Right??

[continued in part 2]

I Did Something I've Never Done Before

2011-06-28T15:09:00.000-04:00

And watched The Bachelorette.

I've never been particularly interested in that show or its predecessor, The Bachelor and I won't even insult your intelligence by listing off the various reasons why: "You can't find love on TV show." "They're all just doing it for the money." Whatever, who cares. I just thought it was cheesetastic.

But I heard about the whole Bentley saga and my curiosity was piqued. "Ugly duckling." "Would've been happy if it was the other one." "I'm going to make her cry. I hope my hair looks good."

This was like, all my insecurities laid bare! And my every worst suspicion of how douchy guys can be and what they really think about girls.

So while I don't understand what transpired between Bentley and Ashley to make her become so smitten - I mean, it's probably because he wasn't so into her, but still fed her enough lines here and there to make her think he was - either way, the girl fell in love with him. And her reward was to be ridiculed on national TV for it. The worst part is, this guy has a daughter! Whom I'm sure he would never want to have someone treat her so callously.

This conversation took place BEFORE I watched. And clearly, that's like wayyyy too psychological an explanation. Now that I've watched, I can say my friend is totally right.

He's just a douche.

The Power of Suggestion

2011-06-19T23:47:00.000-04:00

If you don't have Facebook, it may have escaped your attention that today's is Father's Day.

That is why I'm so thankful for all my friends who wake up on national holidays and update their status to inform everyone of the occasion. And then it catches on like wildfire and pretty soon, you have an entire newsfeed of people telling you what day it is and wishing you a happy holiday!

I'm telling you, this Facebook thing is amazing. It's really gonna catch soon, I know it.

In honor of Father's Day, I'd like a show of hands of who is going to work out their own daddy issues by either sleeping with or starting a fight with someone who completely ignores them and could give a shit about them. Male or Females can both play!!!

For me personally: it's both.

The highlight of my Father's Day had to be after dinner when we started roasting marshmallows over the fire pit to make s'mores and my dad had his legs crossed and one was sticking a little to close into the fire. Then, we all started smelling rubber and noticed his shoe was smoking!

That's the not the best part. The best part was when my Dad got really mad at my mother for not warning him that could happen.

Later that evening, while signing into gchat, I see this:

And I got quite annoyed. I get it, Gmail wants me to start using their calling feature, but this seems a little intrusive. I didn't set this up as a personal reminder, so this was just them, intruding into my personal life and deciding that today would be an opportunity to get me to "connect" with a perceived loved one - through THEIR technology.

What if I had already called him?! (I hadn't)

What if my dad was dead?! (He's not)

What if I hated my father?! (I don't)

It's a little of the same way I feel after I check out at the grocery store and what used to be a simple interaction has now become something of a lifestyle survey:

Do I want cash back? (Unless I'm going to get my nails done and need to tip, NO.)

Do I want to make a donation? (If you really want to know, not really!)

Is this amount OK? (Does it matter? What would you do if I said No? Negotiate?)

What is your email address? (I already get your emails.)

Do you want it all on one card? (Why are you complicating this?!)

I think if these things are going to make these suggestions of what we should do, I think they should be a little bit more descriptive. It's like, if you want to act like you know me, that you know I want to call my Dad, then you'd better EARN the right to do that.

Just like those creepy ads that come up when you're talking about something with a friend, like Starbucks and suddenly your sidebar has an ad for their new Mocha Coconut Fraps. (Gotta try that!)

A few months back I got into a pretty hurtful fight with a friend of mine and it was both amusing and super sad when THIS came up:

It was hilarious* to me that gchat could see through their creepy stalking of our conversations that my friend no longer wanted to be friends with me. Like, does EVERYONE see this except me?!

*if by hilarious we also mean, I can see the humor in it through the torrents of tears and hurt feelings. But yes... funny! In a way!!!!!

Anyway, I'd have a ton more respect if gchat had said:

Reminder: Call Dad and tell him you love him more than Mom. Then call Mom and tell her the opposite.

Reminder: Call Dad and then hang up right when he answers!

Reminder: Call Dad and make him admit that you're his favorite.*

Reminder: Call Dad and tell him you're pregnant.

Reminder: Call Dad and tell him you're pregnant but at least it's not his!**

*I know I am, I just like to hear it on occasion.***

**guffaw!!! so wrong, it's right, right?!

***all the time.

And I get it, I play into this whole technology sustains my life until I decide it's annoying thing. I mean, I'm attached my phone/computer all the time, looking for amusement and escapism:

So am I really that annoyed with gchat for suggesting I call my Dad?

Well, yes. I AM. I think the real question is, is it fair to be annoyed with gchat for suggesting I call my Dad?

Is is REALLY any different than walking into a store, like Target, where they had all these Father's Day reminders and then before I checked out with $120 worth of stuff for myself, I saw a sign and thought, DUH! I should get my Dad a card.

(I really do love the card I found him)

Don't worry, I wrote in it.

And got him an actual gift, too!! I'm not a cheapie.

I mean, suggesting things to people and persuading them to buy a product or take an action (Click Here! Like Us on Facebook! Try It Now! Buy Buy Buy!) is what I DO. Every day. For a living.

And that just makes me a total hypocrite. But at least I'm a self AWARE hypocrite.

Happy Father's Day, everyone! (See what I did there? I forced you to have a happy Father's day!)

Deep Thoughts #1

2011-06-17T14:01:00.000-04:00

... except this stone.

Looking For Love? Look No Further.

2011-06-13T15:15:00.000-04:00

I've got your answers right here:

This IS something I would do. So that's how you know the advice is sound.

Stay tuned for Tips #4-6! You'll be on the path to love and enlightenment in no time, for the low low price of $19.99*

*per tip**
**excluding titles and licensing fees***
***results vary

Whoa Nelly!

2011-06-10T14:24:00.002-04:00

THIS also made me laugh today:

I promise you, I'm busy at work today.

Look!

2011-06-10T13:38:00.000-04:00

It's Buzz Lightyear... holding his boobs.

It's a slow day.

Every Thought I've Had and Will Ever Have On Weiner

2011-06-08T22:40:00.001-04:00

Anthony Weiner, that is:

I love when I'm all laid back about things. Granted, it's not my boyfriend/husband who put pictures of his dick all over the internet.

But I'd also like to think that whether Weiner was a Democrat or a Republican, I'd have this same reaction.

I'm not condoning cheating or lying, but we've all done some stupid shit and no one is above reproach. Least of all a politician. Why are we all so surprised? All this hullabaloo over Weiner's wiener?

Gotta say. I'm unimpressed and underwhelmed.

And that's exactly what I would've texted back to him if he sent me this:

In all seriousness, it's not that I like politicians that lie. But sex scandals bore me. I really mean it when I say, there are a lot BIGGER things we could be talking about.

#SWOON

2011-06-05T20:13:00.000-04:00

OMG, I could listen to Bradley Cooper speak French all day/night long.

With the chin rubbing of the stubble?! Be still my heart.

CONCRETE Proof of What I've Long Suspected

2011-06-03T14:50:00.000-04:00

I am indeed, psychic:

A conversation I just had with a very good friend of mine who lives in Brooklyn. And I'm in CT, so there is no WAY I would know.

So yes, I'm psychic. Or at least, know a lot about nuts.

Or am nuts.

The Best Conversation I Had Today

2011-05-31T15:45:00.000-04:00

But I did blog about it. So at least no one on Twitter saw it except for when I updated about my new post.

DISCLAIMER: He knows I blogged about it. I asked for permission like I usually do.

Weirdest Monday in the History of Mondays.

2011-05-24T00:54:00.001-04:00

Today was a weird day at work. For starters, I got promoted!

That's right. SENIOR copywriter. Naturally, that means that every time my phone rang, I got to answer it with: "Maria Verygreeklastname, SENIOR Copywriter speaking."

I actually found out on Friday right before I left work, but the official companywide announcement came today. When you have good news to share, it's a really wonderful thing. Especially when you feel like most of the time you have nothing to update anyone on, or worse, you have upsetting news. Which is exactly how I've felt for the most part for the last 18 months of my life. Most of my news was bad news, and when it wasn't bad news, it was just to say, nothing's changed, but at least there's no MORE bad news to talk about. #silverlinings

So it was nice to be able to call, text and email friends and family and use punctuation marks !!!!!!! like that without having those convey [faux] hysteria.

I'm going to be the best boss EVER.

But today was weird because I had an intervention of sorts at work. Let me explain.

I have two reactions to exercise: I either avoid it for months or become completely obsessed and go everyday. Currently, I'm in the latter phase and love my kettlebells ~~instructor~~. And I've gained the respect of my trainer by really pushing myself hard and he's constantly telling me how proud he is of me, how hard I'm working, how much stronger I am than when I started, and that he's madly in love with me.

[One of those things is not true.]

I've gotten quite banged up and bruised since I started my kettlebell training. I'm not sure how familiar you are with kettlebells, but the bell is often banging into you during various moves. (And I have dainty wrists. It's like the one thing I will admit to liking about myself.) ((Well, admit to liking in a public forum.))

I've also flipped a tire. Which is not like a little spare tire kind of thing, but like a monster-truck sized tire. This one was 250 pounds and while it's dorky, a huge smile spread across my face when I finally lifted it off the ground for the first time and knocked that sucker over, especially with my trainer there cheering me on the entire time.

So all of this physical activity has left me with majorly banged up wrists and biceps. There are welts and big blue bruises all up and down my arms. But oddly enough, I didn't try to cover these up because I was sorta proud of them. I thought they made me look tough. Plus, I actually have a defined bicep now, which I will at some point flex and ask you to feel should we ever meet in person.

Then, I did a friend's hair and makeup for a wedding and managed to burn the EFF out of the back of my hand on a curling iron. Then, I got this crazy rash from a new body wash from Bath & Body Works (too many perfumes I guess) and I scratched the shiz out of it. So because it was all raw and gross looking, I covered it up with a fairly large band-aid.

All of these factors played a major role in my well-intention, but majorly awkward, but in retrospect kinda hilarious, "is everything OK at home" work intervention.

It was simultaneously touching and uncomfortable. Like it means a lot that they care, but the conclusion is so (thankfully) way off base that I can't even begin to find a way to convincingly deny it and scoffing doesn't seem to be the right way to do it, but neither does defusing the awkwardness with a joke. It didn't help that the bruises were in typical places where an abuser might grab you, nor did my band-aid help because it looked like perhaps I was hurting myself.

And until you've been accused of something, you don't realize how feeble your protests can sound, even when you're not lying.

Like I said, weird day at work. I'm just glad to be home where no one bothers me. I promise.

A Good [Greek] Man Is Hard To Find

2011-05-22T22:56:00.000-04:00

While I was perusing People magazine this weekend, I flipped a page and saw a spread about America's favorite unlucky in love single woman, Jennifer Aniston.

A lesser known fact about Jennifer Aniston is that she's Greek. Well, she's half Greek, as I, a full Greek am always obligated to point out. A wider known fact about her is that her movies tend to err on the side of horrible.

Her father plays Victor Kiriakis on Days of our Lives, and according to this article, was recently quoted as saying he wants his daughter to find "a good Greek man." I chuckled a little to myself as I read this, thinking, wow, even after all the career success she's had, Jennifer Aniston and I are really not all that different.

Every single member of our respective family wants us to marry Greek. It's inevitable and largely why I've been avoiding larger family functions since my sister got married last fall. Now all the attention is on me, and despite any number of career successes I talk about, every aunt, uncle and cousin wants me to find the same thing: a good Greek man.

In fact, the more career successes I have, the funnier I am, the prettier they say that I am, is, I believe, directly proportional to how much sadder and more pathetic I am in their eyes. It's like, I'll say something clever, or tell them about my job, or look cute or whatever, and instead of that being enough, of those things being accomplishments in and of themselves in this journey of life and self discovery, they'll give me a wistful look - my mom especially - that communicates:

Now why can't you find a man?
You make these cupcakes? Someone should appreciate them besides us! Men like food!
You're so talented! You're so funny! Look at those eyes! Someone should wake up next to you and appreciate all of this!
You have such wide hips! Someone should appreciate that and impregnate you! With Greek babies, I mean.

They're thinking it! You may think I'm joking about the last part, but they're not!

Aside from the scales that are covering my body and my horrible case of gingivitis, I don't know what I'm doing wrong... IF I'm doing anything wrong... if it's just an unfortunate consequence of timing/luck/location, but I often think that I'm the kind of person that my friends/women love, but not men. Now, let me be clear. I'm not a lesbian* and I'm not saying oh woe is me, no guy likes me and thinks I'm pretty**.

*I'm not a lesbian, and I'm not one of those single people who says things like, "God, I should just BE a lesbian," because I think that's insulting to lesbians and two, one of my best friends is a lesbian, and I can tell you, after our hours-long phone chats about her Girlfriend In Everything But The Name Because The Girl Has Commitment Issues, I realize that people are people, gender aside, and relationships are hard. Basically, same shit, same insecurities, same mind games.

**Confession: I am saying EXACTLY that.

Now, while Jen and I (see, now that we're so connected, I can just call her Jen) ((never Jenny)) (((only her friends know not to make that mistake))) have many similarities, what I don't have is a national magazine trying to set me up with eligible bachelors. These are the Greek guys People picked for Jen:

Uncle Jesse happens to be one of my few human, non-cartoon related childhood crushes!

On a scale of 5 Flaming Saganakis, John gets: 4.5

I think he's hilarious and not right at all for Jen, but perfect for me.

My asks out of a man are pretty simple and designed to create the least amount of emotional disappointment: I like funny and I like facial hair.

On a scale of 5 Thick Greek Beards: Zach gets a 5 for me, a 1 for Jen.

There are lots of stereotypes about Greeks: they're lazy and superstitious; the women are dramatic and hysterical; the man are chauvinists and... are well endowed.

Sometimes stereotypes are true.

On a scale of 5 Greek Stereotypes, Tommy gets a 2.

Famous Greek actor. Kinda handsome. Think he's better looking with a beard.

On a Scale of You've Never Heard of Him But Can Tell From His Last Name He's Greek, Alexis gets a 4.

Now, I had a post last year before my sister's weddings about my parents machinations to get my set up with any number of suitable Greek bachelors in the CT area, including the pharmacist moonlighting as a wedding DJ, and like anything having to do with set-ups, I balk and just say NO. Like they taught us in fifth grade.

However, despite my best intentions to spend every Saturday night tucked in my humble abode watching TV and movies, downloading music, reading a book, organizing my blog fodder and staring at my navel, I occasionally am forced to "go out."

I met a Greek guy and want to share with you what it's like being hit on by a Greek.

Some people guess right away that I'm Greek and others can't tell and guess Spanish, Italian, Armenian (but that's only since Kim Kardashian became famous), Turkish, etc. I don't have a lot of the tell-tale Greek features like, the politely phrased "prominent" noses, but I have olive-ish skin and dark features. Oh and big eyes.

So this guy clearly had a homing device to detect Greeks in his general vicinity and asked me if I was Greek. After I replied in the affirmative, he then proceeded to ask me in Greek if I speak Greek. This is what I assume happens when Star Trek fans greet each other and do a weird little handshake or whatever. Like, if you can't answer back in Greek that you understood the simplest question of do you speak Greek, well, then you FAILED the True Greek Test.

Then you have to answer where in Greece your parents are from. After that, if the regions are compatible, OR if you're pretty enough or the guy is desperate enough to overlook regional undesirability, then you get to interactions such as these:

Guy: Hi, my name is Panayoti (Peter). I live in Astoria.

Me: Hi, I'm Maria. I live in Connecticut.

Guy: Oh, you're a Connecticut Greek.

Connecticut Greeks vs. New York Greeks vs. Boston Greeks is a long and boring subject and if you asked any non-Greek to spot the differences, they'd be hard-pressed to come up with any. The main argument among these groups is who is the most backwards. Each respective group thinks it's the most modern and most true to what current Greeks in Greece are like.

The answer is NONE OF THEM ARE.

Guy: I'm a lawyer.

Me: Oh yeah? That's cool.

Guy: Yeah. You make a lot of [rubs fingers together.]

Me: Right. So where did you go to school?

Guy: Well, like I said, I'm basically a lawyer.

Me: Oh.

Guy: What do you do? Work in your dad's pizzeria?

Me: Why do I smell like pizza?

And the conversation ended shortly after that.

I'm not a Greeky Greek. And I've thought about his question to me. There isn't anything wrong with working in a pizzeria or working in the family business. But it's fairly presumptuous. And I truly don't think he meant it as a dig, like oh what are you, a pizza girl?

It was meant, I believe, in one of 2 ways. It was his way of ascertaining my proxenia, which is basically, my dowry/material value in knowing if my family has a steady source of income; or two, it was just part of the larger assumption that that is all Greeks know how to do.

Either way, it cracked me up and I think there is no hope for me or for Jen Aniston to find a Good Greek Man because every Greek I meet is Exactly Like That.

Excuse me, I have some cupcakes to go make for myself. And yes, I'm aware that that is a scene from Bridesmaids, but I can't help it if art imitates my life.

You Had To Be There

2011-05-22T01:13:00.000-04:00

Wanna know why I'm making THIS face?

Well, I'll tell you.

In my next post!

#suspense #itsfunnyipromise #butembarrassing #butnotmoreembarrassingthanusinghashtagsnotontwitter

Turtle Power!

2011-05-13T22:39:00.002-04:00

When I was younger, I loved two things above all else: coloring and cartoons.

As an adult, I find it increasingly more difficult to find time for either of these pursuits. When I was studying abroad in London, I got questioned constantly as to why I always carried a gym bag with me, and why on earth I carried around in said bag the following items: a box of 64 Crayola crayons; various coloring books; a bouncy ball; a slinky; a notebook; my photojournal; 2 novels (one just in case!); and other such not needed on a daily basis paraphernalia.

I'm surprised I didn't put my back out lugging that shit all over the place.

Alas, that was the last time I was a colorer, and aside from Family Guy, Bob's Burgers and various Disney/Pixar movies, my cartoon watching has been lacking as of late.

And that's when we received a project for work that allowed me to once again combine my 2 favorite things from childhood.

One of my favorite shows/cartoons when I was a kid was Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. As I've detailed on my blog, I had quite a few strange cartoon crushes as a child, including Dewey from Duck Tales and Chip from Rescue Rangers. I know, I know. Totally weird.

But Raphael was always my favorite Ninja Turtle. Clearly, it was the beginning of my obsession with "the bad boy," the guy who's just kind of rebellious and mean for no reason, because he's been hurt man, and if you just dig deep enough, you can uncover the real him inside, and clearly that's my job, and I'm gonna save him and let him know it's ok to open up!!!! He can with me! He's safe!

Oh whoops, sorry. That's just Scenes from My Dating Life.

But anyway, yes, I had a crush on Raphael and always secretly suspected he was Splinter's real favorite. Leonardo was such a bore/goody two shoes; Donatello was a nerd before being a nerd was cool; and Michaelangelo was just kind of an idiot. But Raphael was sarcastic, sullen and kind of assy, which are the TOP THREE things I look for in a man.

And then at work, we got this fun side project to make Munny dolls, which I had never heard of before. I was kind of excited at first, and then I just started to dread the idea of making one because as a writer, less is expected of me artistically, and I was going up against mostly art directors, so I wanted mine to be good.

I found a picture of someone else who had done a Ninja Turtle Munny doll (NOT trying to take credit for the idea), and I decided, you know, I could do that!

So I bought paint, brushes, and Sharpie markers (for the eyes) as well as Sculpey for the turtle shell and got to work.

Painting/coloring was so much fun and time FLEW by. I know kinda want to make all four of them. And, my mini-Raphael was definitely at the top of the pile in terms of the better executed dolls - some of them were pretty terrible and I was embarrassed for the maker, like in an awkward Show & Tell.

Oh, right, the pictures. Here they are. Enjoy!

And yes, I still know the theme song by heart to the animated series. They're heros in a half shell and they're greeeeen!

PS: I love how I took real closeups of his face, almost like I was taking photos of my newborn baby child. Like, awww how precious. This is his eye! And his little hands.

Clearly I need less hobbies and to get more of a life.

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow

2011-05-08T20:58:00.000-04:00

Sorry, I can't hear a thing you're saying over the fact that I have BANGS.

As I've detailed in my blog, two years ago I made a very poor decision to go "Rihanna-esque" with a short hair cut, and ended up with a pixie mullet that was as heinous as it sounds.

I can be pretty laid back about things - when I'm not pretending I'm all worked up about something innocuous. But for the most part, I can let things roll off my back and not "go crazy" at the slightest provocation. Less because I'm all zen, and more because I'm terribly, terribly lazy.

I experiment with my hair color all the time, I've had intentionally lopsided (one side long, one side short) haircuts, the Sienna Miller short do, baby pink highlights, fire engine red hair, you name it. Some of been hits, some have been misses, and I've always thought, it's just hair, it grows back.

But now, whenever someone goes to cut my hair, I panic.

Literally. I'm sitting in the chair and I can feel my deodorant start working. I break out into a sweat, my heart flutters, my thoughts start racing. Which, come to think about it, is how someone people describe how it feels to fall in love, which should tell you all how unhealthy falling in love is.

But that's a post for another day.

And when my hair stylist went to cut my hair near my face, I got anxious and almost stopped her. But instead, all I said was, you're not giving me "bangs" right? Just a side swoop? Right?

SNIP! Too late. Bangs!

Now, this was my thought prior to Saturday about bangs, when a friend asked me if I thought SHE should get bangs:

Buuuuuuut! Now that I semi-sorta have my own bangs, I really actually kinda like them.

And it's all I'm thinking about. How to style my bangs. And if they look better with my new glasses or not.

Either way, with my penchant for wearing scarves, I think I'm more like THIS anyway:

And so ends my post. About bangs. Terribly interesting, I know!

Making a Big Deal out of Nothing

2011-04-28T00:49:00.000-04:00

Now I've certainly been accused of being theatrical. Over the top. A Drama Queen. Insane.

I'm deluded enough to pour my thoughts out onto this blog and think that anyone really follows along and cares, and if you do indeed read my blog, you could say that all I really do is make a big deal about nothing.

Most incidents in life that others would process and move past, I choose to turn into pages-long missives with dramatic arcs and long tangents. Just see my previous post.

I also "stumbled on" an interesting article by Kurt Vonnegut on this very topic HERE. Get it? Because I used Stumbled On to find it?! Sooo meta!

I think what most people either get right away about me, or don't get and in the process, never quite "get me" is that I'm ultimately, an actress. All of this "drama" I create around myself is very meta (twice in one post!!) or self-aware or whatever word you want to use, and all part of the image and persona I project out into the universe which is all a sleight of hand to keep people at bay from the real me inside. So if you reject my drama, you're not really rejecting "me" because I never let my wall down with you anyway. Self protection blah blah blah.

Can you tell I'm in therapy?

Anyway, part of me likes my carefully manufactured drama because it's controlled (by me), it gets me mostly positive attention, and quite frankly, if we didn't have drama, what else would we talk about? The weather?

Not to fear, this isn't a self-indulgent, heady, psychoanalysis of myself kind of post, except for what you just read.

And then, on my way to Hulu to watch General Hospital (NO SHAME!), I saw this:

And I just thought to myself, really Apple? Really?

The next time anyone ever accuses me of making a big deal out of nothing, I'm gonna say: "I learned it from watching you, Apple! I learned it from watching you!"

Or, I might say, "ohhh, I bet you think it's cute when APPLE does it."

Or. "I'm not holding a press conference about it, am I?" (weaker, but at this point, I'd be desperate if I didn't slay you with the first two lines.)

Because really, a new color is not a big deal. And white hardly counts as a color anyway.

[And does it make me a total hypocrite that I wrote this with my MacBook Pro while my literally bedazzled iPhone sits not 3 inches away?]

So I of course made a big deal about this on twitter.

And my Internet Biff wrote this:

And I replied with this:

Which is totally true. Lucky bastards.

One day Apple, I'm gonna hold a press conference to just announce that I will hold a press conference at a later date. And then I will tweet and put up teaser billboards, like "It's Coming X/X/XX" or "Save the Date X/X/XX" or "Where Will You Be X/X/XX?"

All from my iPhone.

My Moon Adventure

2011-04-28T00:11:00.000-04:00

If I had a nickel for every time I've heard someone say "It looks like we're going to go right from winter into summer," in these last two weeks, I'd have exactly fifteen cents.

The first time I heard it, my thought was: "Huh. You know, this weather has been unseasonably cold for spring. And it's almost May! Maybe this person is right."
The second time I heard it, I thought: "Wow. This is the second person to say this. It must be true."
The third time I heard it, I thought: "If I had a nickel for every time someone said this! God, people are so predictable. I should blog about this."*

*IRONY ALERT. I blog, or at least, tell myself I should blog, about every little thing that happens to me.

Because I am so busy and very important at work, and have been working (and traveling for work) like a madwoman since the beginning of March, my ACD took us out for drinks during one seasonably-appropriate-but-given-the-current-cold-weather-snap, unexpectedly warm afternoon. To be nice.

And then tricked us into working.

It wasn't so bad though, and getting out of the office, under a warm sun and cold beers actually was really nice and we got some really great ideas to share for the next morning's presentation.**

**That were promptly destroyed not five minutes into the meeting by our overbearing account team.

I'm not a big drinker. I'm not a teetotaler either. I will drink one to two glasses of wine or beer and stop. Less about self control and more about... a desire to stop. Like I just don't want to keep drinking. I enjoy the one to two drinks I've had, and then I'm done. I don't have this same lack of desire when it comes to cake batter and/or cookie dough, so this is not about being master of my impulses. I just think of alcohol and think, meh.

I've been best friends with and have dated some total narcissistic alcoholics, so I don't judge or berate those who do enjoy to imbibe. Clearly, I can enable this behavior, while not directly or at least, consciously, encouraging it.

In a related tangent that will all come together nicely momentarily, we have this Razor scooter at work, and one night, we were all working late and decided to do racing contests. I know myself. I do not like anything under my feet that will make me move faster: not roller skates, not ice skates, not skis, not snowboards, not skateboards, not even Wheelies. (If people even wear those.)

I'll get the hang of it for like five minutes, decide that I'm an idiot savant and start picturing scenarios where I blame my mother for not exposing me to this activity as a young child, because clearly with the right training at a young age I could've aspired to be on Skating with the Stars or a Winter Olympic snowboarder, and then, reality comes crashing down. Or rather, I do.

I fall and embarrass myself.

Like with the Razor scooter. I thought I was the quickest person EVER, and decided to do a wheelie (why?!?!) and then landed almost on my head. The first person to rush over to me was actually a member of the cleaning crew who was very kind to me, until he saw me later in the kitchen, trying to regain my composure, and said, "You need to practice."

And in that moment, between the laughter of my coworkers, the slow-motion reenactments of my glide to the floor, and the pitying words of the member of the cleaning crew, that was it. I was done. No more scooters for me. I don't care, you're not getting me on that thing again. Tried it once. Check. I'm done.

With drinking, I had a similar experience. I chugged boxed wine one night (why?!?!) and woke up the next morning literally unable to move head more than an inch without shooting, stabbing pain. When I finally forced myself to get up, I reached into one of my floormate's mini-fridges to get a drink, and the only thing they had was Gatorade. I opened it, gulped down large swallows, before realizing, no, no, that's not Gatorade. That's grain alcohol and fruit punch, and it's any wonder I made it to the bathroom before vomiting profusely.

And after that, I was kinda like, OK, enough. Not doing this to myself again. And have pretty much stuck to that, a few drunken incidents here and there non-excluded, plus or minus two or three days around my birthday.

For whatever reason, on this afternoon with my boss and my coworkers, I broke my own rule, and even with my birthday four months away, I got drunk. Off of 4 delicious, thirst-quenching, heat-canceling, mind-empowering Blue Moons.

And then I did that thing I do when I get drunk where I get really silly. And weirder than I normally am. And decided I wanted to wear my friend Matt's helmet while we worked.

PS: you can follow him on Twitter. His handle is @BeardFaceMcGee. He's new to Twitter. He really needs Twitter followers because every time I tease him about "tweeting into an empty forest," he gets really, actually sad about it, and then it's no longer fun for me to tease him about it because then I start to feel bad and only want to tease him about things he can handle.

Like his sensitive man-feelings.

Well, after taking off Matt's helmet, which my much larger Greek head had a hard time squeezing into, I must've ripped off one of my precious earrings. I didn't notice that until we were two miles up the road at a totally new bar.

But in sober life, I have a hard time letting things go and I like to wander, and when I'm drunk, this magnifies, so I convinced my friends to just let me go "run back real quick" and try to find my earring because I would not rest until I at least tried, and I wouldn't be able to concentrate on any conversation anyway, since all I would be thinking about was my earring, and I'm an adult and I would keep my phone on me!! Alright?!

Except I forgot my phone. And Maria does not run. She will at times, briskly jog, but she will not run. She will also, apparently, break into the third person.

On my 2-mile journey into night:

I made friends with 3 local area hooligans, who also helped me try to find my earring.
I thought that if this were a scary movie, the three local area hooligans were emo, and so they naturally would be the killers from the movie The Strangers.
I almost got run over by a car by illegally jaywalking.
I saw a babbling brook, and wondered that if I were to get killed, would they send search dogs for me in that river?
I wondered what picture from Facebook they would use for the cover story in the newspaper.
I realized that I forgot my phone AND wallet and could not stop for frozen yogurt, even though I passed by a shop TWICE. Once on the way there and the way back.

Meanwhile, my friends became quite worried about me after I had not returned after an hour. One of them even got into his car to search for me. (He failed as a search and a rescuer, by the way. He "couldn't find [me] anywhere.")

They noticed I left my phone and left me a series of frantic texts that they knew I would not receive, as well as took pictures on my phone...

"Are we not friends anymore?" is the "funny" thing I always say anytime someone is not immediately responding to me and now all my friends have seemed to really latch onto it.

And then my favorite part of the evening, the drawing they made for me:

She kinda looks like me! My friend Heidi should be a sketch artist.

Also, I never found my earring.

:( :( :(

Lover Come Back

2011-04-21T22:29:00.004-04:00

Sometimes on this blog I actually remember that I'm a copywriter and used to comment about ads.

During my sickness-induced day-off that include a Lifetime movie/General Hospital marathon binge on Hulu, they played this ad. Usually, Hulu ads are repetitive and annoying, but this one played, and maybe it was the Parisian-inspired music, or just the cuteness of the illustrations, or the fact that, at some point or another, we've all been in this scenario, on one side or the other,* but I just loved it.

*truthfully, I'm usually on the girl in the video's side of this. Usually.**

**OK, always.

Truthfully, it's too bad it's Yahoo Mail, because while I do have a Yahoo account, the only mail I ever get on that come from Nigerian princes, penis enlargement companies and Daily Tarot readers.

Seriously, how awesome is this ad? I don't even think it's that pictures say it all. It's that a few simple words do.

UPDATED: Found the inspiration for this ad.

Totally my kind of cute animation and love story.

Next on Sick, Sad World

2011-04-20T09:58:00.003-04:00

I'm totally sick today!

Have been for about 4 days.

Yesterday, I went to work because I don't know, I was trying to be a hero or something. I also have this weird thing where if I tell someone I'm sick, I think that everyone will think I'm lying about it. Like calling in sick makes you a liar. Which should tell you a lot about my own psyche.

The other day, in my therapist's office, she handed me a letter and said, "I have big news for you," and my immediate reaction was, "Do you not want to see me anymore?! Is this my official letter telling me that?"

No. It was just to tell me she's moving her office, what the new address is, and that she's training a therapy dog, which I don't need, but she knows I love animals, and thought I would be excited about that.

There was an awkward moment after my response, where she may have given me a quizzical look, like whoa horsey. Like, why was THAT the first thing you thought of - BUT I have my reasons!!

Today, I was basically ordered by my boss to call in sick because all my coworkers were really mad at me for "spreading my germs around" which I do NOT think I did. I tried to contain them as best as possible. But I did get made fun of for my voice, which sounds awful, because I'm all congested. So I sound like I'm talking under water.

So far this morning, I've been streaming Lifetime movies on Hulu. My four-word review of Lifetime movies: Lots of Hand Acting.

I also started to watch Spaced, with the guy who created Shaun of the Dead, but then my plug-in failed. Fascinating, I know.

I could go watch 90210 and Glee on my DVR but that's like, legitimately 12 steps away and that's a lot of time and commitment to something. What if the couch is uncomfortable? What if I decide I made the wrong decision and there is something more interesting happening on my computer?! I could bring my phone with me though. But maybe I don't feel like moving right now... God, this is hard.

So now I leave you with a picture of me, RIGHT NOW, after having woken up about an hour ago from almost no sleep, and that face has less to do with being sick and more to do with the fact that my plug-in failed and I'm sad.

See how we come full circle?!? My title was an homage to Daria, but also how I am currently both sick AND sad. I'm like a writer genius.

Also, I'm not trying to be my own worst critic, but I think my nose looks kinda swollen. BUT IT IS. There is so much gross stuff in there, I don't know where it keeps coming from... Gross?

Also, here are some of my other 140 Character or Less Movie Reviews. (Which are really fun to write by the way!)

And.... movie reviews:

Thought of that one all on my own. Not to suggest that I don't always think of things on my own. Though, in the interest of full disclosure, I do sometimes steal things from others, joke-wise. If it's funny. Who doesn't?! But I just mean to say, I thought of this after watching Tangled, which I loved, and was like, heyyyyy, that saying totally works in this scenario!

A movie about Greeks more messed up than my own family. I like to watch Greek movies subtitled in English and compare how I personally would have translated something. In most cases, they way I would've translated it would be like, 4th grade reading comprehension level.

My seven word review would've been: Amanda Seyfried is really pretty. That's all.

I can't find it, but my review for Blue Valentine was pretty similar. Just different actor names.

UPDATED: On my sick day, I also spent the greater part of my afternoon furiously typing up emails to anyone who has wronged me, giving them less than 24 hours to apologize. Just in case Skynet attacks. Because it's never too late, until it is. You've been warned.

A Day in the Life [of a Serious Video Journalist]

2011-04-17T16:39:00.001-04:00

For those of you who don't know, I've been taking kettlebell classes almost every day after work for the last three months. I've noticed such an improvement from where I started - I'm so much stronger and leaner. I've really amazed myself when I notice what I can do now, versus where I was a few months ago, in terms of number of reps and even how heavy the weights I can lift, etc.

So much so that I've even advanced to the, uh, advanced class.

It also helps that one of my instructors is pretty cute.

I can be pretty bold sometimes! Haha.

So I was looking through my videos this weekend and found this gem I filmed after class.

It's something only a serious video journalist could talk about:

Thank God it wasn't me.

You Can't Have One Without the Other

2011-04-13T22:59:00.000-04:00

Connecticut: For Your Consideration

2011-03-31T22:25:00.000-04:00

As a resident of Connecticut, there is not much to boast of in this state if you're not a card-carrying AARP member.

Or, unless you're totally into really over-priced restaurants; people with upper crust accents who speak through underbites; or snooty sales associates who eye you up and down and say things like, "love your outfit! It's so great how you mixed pieces from last season and tried to make it fresh."

Also, consider CT if you like really high rental properties that are "justified" because you live less than an hour from New York City, though of course, having none of the cultural benefits of actually living in that city; if you like drivers who overreact to the slightest amount of precipitation on the road; and if you like being around people who drive/walk/talk like they're in a real hurry to get to their very suburban shopping centers and/or homes.

Here's a CT Fun Fact for you: we are the state to go the longest without a Miss America winner. Also, we boast a 2:1 female to male ratio, as does most of the Tri-State area, so dating is a lot of fun.

Another: we're the, uh, Nutmeg state.

Oh! We also don't have state tolls. That's another thing.

Finally, you also should consider Connecticut if you like to root for sports teams that are not actually from your home state. If you're in the bottom left corner of the state, from where I hail, you're probably a Yankee fan. And if you're from the rest of the state, you like the Red Sox.

That's CT. Bitterly divided about sports teams we have no ownership rights over.

The one time it's OK to be from CT is during the month of March. Well, if UConn college basketball makes it to the NCAA tournament. If not, then March is just filler until opening day of baseball season.

As an alumni of UConn (Huskies, what what!), my bracket usually gets busted very early in the tournament because I can never bring myself to vote against UConn. I almost always have them going to the Final Four, if not winning the entire thing. Which is really loyal or a real waste of the $10 bucks to get in the pool, depending on your perspective.

This year however, it's shaping up to potentially be a 2004 repeat, which was the greatest year in UConn college history. The year I graduated.

It was also, little known fact, the year both the men and women basketball teams won the National Championship. Also, the year I was first pepper sprayed by campus police for being in the vicinity of drunk kids flipping over cars, setting them on fire, and trying to topple evergreen trees by climbing on top of them to the weakest branches and swaying.

Good times. (Seriously.)

[Aside: The behavior on campus when teams actually WIN games has always seem the exact opposite of how they should be reacting. I'm So Happy I'm Going To Destruct What Is Technically My Property As I Currently Live On It and When TV Cameras Come, I Want to Show Them How Proud I Am To Live Here.]

[[The best part was the next day when we got a campus-wide email from the police with shots of drunk kids sleeping on the pavement, next to a blurred pile of puke, hands in their pants, passed out, swinging from light fixtures, etc. asking us to contact them if we could identify who they are as part of an investigation. Definitely would've gone on Facebook, but that was before my time.]]

This year, after we made it into the Final Four, I had a stream of texts from my friends, congratulating each other on all of OUR hard work getting so far. My old roommates and I are in the middle of coordinating plans to go back to the campus to watch this Saturday's game, though as usually, Laurie is the hesitant one. She constantly comes up with some reason the plans cannot run smoothly. I think she does this on purpose.

Kidding! (Well, I'm only kidding if you're reading this)

Last Saturday, her excuse was she didn't want to jinx UConn because she's watched all the games in the same bar which is on the opposite end of CT.

Whereas I fall victim to superstition of a different nature - let's all go back and try to replicate where we were when something FIRST happened. My text is misleading. UConn didn't win on that site. I just mean, we were all there together at that time.

That, and I kinda want to go back to the campus. Haven't been since I graduated, and that's just pathetic since I still live in the same state.

As the week progressed, Laurie's fiance became the reason and he just had Lasik eye surgery, and blah blah blah. So I tried to compromise between the three of us, since Karyn will be coming from Boston and I figure Hartford is central enough, plus UConn has a Hartford campus so it's kinda sorta not really like the same thing.

Now if that sage wisdom doesn't convince her... well, I give up.

But I never give up on UConn. Go Huskies!

Keep Reaching For The Stars

2011-03-29T09:21:00.000-04:00

At work we recently shot a corporate video to send to prospective clients.

And I was chosen to be filmed. This, friends, was indeed among the highest of honors one in my lowly position could have bestowed upon them.

Usually, I'm the one who scripts [awkward] talking points for people with higher paychecks and more glitzy business cards so they can have their moment in front of the camera, and once I hit send on that email, I'm promptly forgotten. When it comes up, I get asked questions like, "Are you aware of the presentation we're putting together for X? WE wrote and shot a video..."

And then I just sit back with a shit-eating grin on my face and say, "Yes, I'm aware of that project."

Not only does No One Read the Copy, apparently, No One Remembers It either.

Well, last week I had the dubious distinction of being asked to not only concept and write the video, but to have a [minor] starring role! Let me tell you, champagne bottles were opened in my humble abode that night.

As I agonized over the funny anecdotes I could tell, how to best get across my personality and be the supporting character who steals every scene she's in, and what outfit would best accentuate my ~~features~~ role as a creative, non-suit, but without making the corporate heads nervous, I was very thankful for my recent foray into video documenting my life. Until that point, I had never been entirely comfortable with videos of myself, and why I've never been one to Skype, or any of that new fandangled technology.

Until now!

I really find that I'm not particularly nervous or deer-eyed in front of the camera. (Having to watch it later... well that's another story. Seeing a video and deciding I look fat, disgusting, washed out, like I have scraggly hair, etc. could send me into a weeks-long navel-gazing tailspin.)

What's funny is that I tried SO hard to get out of it. Anytime we talked about having to cut for timing, or if we had too many people talking, I was always the first to volunteer to be edited. I was trying to be appear modest and humble, and a team-player, but in reality, I just was nervous about saying the wrong thing.

My "humbleness" wasn't fooling our EVP, who ended up semi-snapping at me finally with: "Maria, we picked you to be in this for a reason. We need you in it. Stop trying to edit yourself out of it."

[Message received!]

Finally filming this video took FOREVER, and while I think I would've made the same jokes as my coworkers if it had been one of them and not me, I couldn't help but wonder if they weren't secretly jealous as they taunted me by saying "ohhh, we're honored to be in your midst!" "Looks like we have a star among us commoners." "They only picked you because they wanted to show that [Our Company] is young." "They only picked you because you're pretty." (That, I didn't mind hearing.)

So, I have this thing, which sometimes turns into a problem, where I play "roles." Willfully. Not like sexually. More like, I'll be the prissy idiot. Or the shy awkward girl. Or the braggart. Or the sarcastic bitch. Or whatever I think suits the situation and it appears people want me to behave as.

I think it's all fun and games. Until it's not anymore.

Anyway!

If I was going to be made fun of for appearing in a video I had no desire to appear in, and be accused of relishing the "spotlight," well, I was at least going to have SOME fun with it.

I'm hilarious, right? I also had fun saying things like, "Wow, people really don't have any idea how hard being an actor is, and how hard it is to be 'on.'" And "those lights are so hot. My God, it's exhausting shooting." And then confessing to my friend Matt the following: "I kinda want to do a really bad job for a few takes and then have everyone get frustrated with me, except for the director who pulls me aside and says something motivational to me, like, 'Maria, just dig deep and find that emotion. I know you have it in you' and then I go back and nail it in the next shot."

I kinda wanted that to happen.

We took a break in filming and I ran out to get some lunch. I know, no crafts services! WTF?! Anyway, I got a free brownie from the Italian deli owner, and the timing of that cannot be ignored. Clearly, I was oozing star power.

The next day, on the drive to work, I had the BRILLIANT idea to pass out signed photos of myself to my coworkers, just to really drive home the point.*

*Not sure what point I'm talking about, other than that I love attention.

The messages ranged from the absurd, to the really, really absurd:

I like to say really obnoxious things and follow it with a happy face. It's like my signature thing.

My fans really do mean everything to me. Without them, who would laugh at my jokes?

Oh right. I would.

These are only three examples. I signed quite a few before my hand started cramping. Talk about NOT being a diva. I would've had someone else do that if I were. Anyway, as I was writing them, "Keep Reaching for The Stars" really stuck out to me as the thing I think I would say if I were famous. As my sign-off.

Like, it's so bombastic and meaningless and full of condescension that it makes it kind of ridiculous and awesome at the same time. (Don't even say, just like I am.)

Disclaimer: Please read this knowing my tongue is [mostly] firmly planted in cheek as I'm writing this. I almost didn't disclaim this, hoping my braggadocious display would be obvious, but lately I'm seeing that tone can be so easily misconstrued, that I felt the need to tell you: I'm kidding.

I know we most likely don't know each other in person, but my humor is based in the absurd. Mostly, making myself absurd and then we can all laugh, myself included, at how arrogant/silly/childish/crazy/etc. I am being.

It's all theater. Meaning, me. My life. Mostly, until sometimes lines get crossed and I can't remember what I'm laughing about anymore and I get all sensitive and touchy. During those times, I'm REALLY fun to be around. Trust me.

End disclaimer.

My Wild Weekend at Target

2011-03-28T20:39:00.000-04:00

Forgive me, the title is an overpromise.

I have a love/hate relationship with Target. I love it because they always have that one "find" that is just awesome, from a pair of cute flats, a higher-end looking t-shirt, a cool graphic mug, what-have-you that you take pleasure in when someone asks you where you got it, and you say: "Target!"

[I also buy this AMAZING S'mores Trail Mix from Archer Farms that I get every time I go. Archer Farms and Kirkland (Costco) have some really great stuff that is definitely on par with major name brands.]

[[I'm saying this like you probably don't already know.]]

But I hate myself after going to Target because I always, always, always spend way more money than I intended to.

Aside: The one thing I will have to stop buying from Target is bras, because while it's hard to resist $7.99 for bras in all those cute colors, after a few washes, the underwire always pops out! Disappointing.

After making quite a few high-ticket purchases this month, I decided that it's time for me to save money. Unfortunately, I ran out of every kind of toiletry I have at the same time.

So I stopped into Target which is right next to a movie theater where I was a meeting a friend of mine and decided to JUST pick up the essentials: shampoo, conditioner, Q-Tips, toothpaste, deodorant, mouthwash, and facewash.

(Not to mention the moisturizer, foundation, eyeliner, perfume, bodywash and mascara I had to pick up from MAC and Sephora!!)

((I TOLD you I really ran out of everything at once!))

So after making one quick stop to the new produce section, stocking up on some cereals and stuff I need for the office, I got into line.

I could feel the girl in line behind me staring at me, and I looked back at her to give her a half smile, as if to shame her into stopping her piercing gaze, when she said, "I just wanted to tell you, your makeup is so awesome! How did you do that with your eyes?"

So after explaining to my new best friend how much I love makeup and the technique I used, I was on cloud nine. As I moved over to the cashier, who I know was not paying attention to our conversation, she looked at me and said, "Oh wow! I love your makeup! Especially your blush. It looks natural, but you can still see the color."

Now, I'm thinking, nothing is going to rain on my little compliment parade. Smiling politely, I turn back and notice that my new best friend left the line from behind me to go into another lane that just opened up and that a new person is behind her.

A very overweight woman. Which is just a fact. Not a judgement.

And she started chatting with me about what I was purchasing, which is always a little weird and embarrassing when people are checking out what you buy.

And the following happened:

I told this story to a few of my coworkers, and they all insisted that she was just saying that in general, but I know, I KNOW it was a dig.

It was like the universe decided to balance out my ego for me.

I am humble, Universe. You should know this!

Pen to Post-It

2011-03-25T21:44:00.000-04:00

I write myself a lot of notes. [It's how I manage all the crazy thoughts in my head.]

Sometimes they range from [funny]* thoughts when I'm not near my computer so I can't use them as my gchat/twitter/facebook status. Other times, it's a grocery shopping list. Dessert recipes I want to try - or at least try to convince my brother to make for me. And then of course, my reading list.

*well, "funny" is relative I guess. I think I'm funny and amusing. Not sure everyone else always does or doesn't see through my very thinly veiled desperate need for attention.**

**I'm aware. I'm trying.

I'm obsessed with books. If I'm not writing, online shopping or staring off into space on my couch/bed, then I'm reading. And the way some people horde shoes, I horde books. I have STACKS of books taunting me to finish what I'm currently reading so I can start those. And for me, there is no greater moment than when I have about 20 or so pages left in my book, and I just look over at my stacks and wonder who will be my new best friend for the next week/day/month/however long it takes.

Sad?

Anyway, from movies to music to books, I always solicit the opinions of friends - or other people's whose opinion I respect - for their recommendations. After chatting with a friend of mine, he told me I should read a book called "Honeymoon with My Brother" by Franz Wizner, which is something like an "Eat, Pray, Love" from a man's perspective.

I tried to read "Eat, Pray, Love" when it first came out and could NOT get into it. There was something so self-obsessed and self-conscious about the way Elizabeth Gilbert wrote and I remember tossing it aside and thinking, "why on earth does she think that anyone cares what she thinks!"

I know, I know. Clearly this was before I decided to dump my own thoughts on "the world" via my blog.***

***I check my stats occasionally. Technically, the world does indeed visit my blog, but I have a sneaking suspicion it's just to see my high score on Fruit Ninja.

Then, in July/August of last year, I had a mini breakdown, and realized that just writing all my crazy thoughts on Post-It notes wasn't exactly making them go away. I'm all for writing as therapy, but I needed more help. Perhaps you could say I needed more hope. So I went to seek therapy, which I've detailed a bit on this blog somewhere, and in addition to helping tremendously, I now have a steady stream of book recommendations!

And no lie,**** the first book she recommended to me was "Eat, Pray, Love"!

****ok, I AM lying. It was the second book she recommended to me. But the first book shouldn't even count because it's about an issue I have that is so low on my priority list and I just mentioned it in our "getting to know each other" sessions just in the interest of full disclosure. And while it was an interesting read, I'll more address that issue when I can deal with the bigger ones that bother me about me.

I explained to my therapist my hesitations about trying to read Gilbert again, and she gave me a look. And said, "You know Maria, you should always pay attention to when you have a strong reaction to something that doesn't necessarily warrant a strong reaction."

Meaning, why does a woman writing a book about her thoughts bother me so much?

And I realized it was a combination of jealousy and my own fear that me writing about my own thoughts and trying to express myself, or even just "be" myself with others will be unheard or unappreciated. And here was a woman who got others to read and relate. Everything I want.

So I tried again and fell in love with the book.

And this was a really long tangent from where this post is going.

After chatting with my friend about how much he liked "Honeymoon with My Brother," I jotted myself a note to remember to pick it up. Which I will show you shortly.

It's now another book I need to go to the bookstore to pick up, including:

both of these books I started reading in the bookstore the other day, but since I'm on a "saving money" kick, I did not allow myself to purchase them because I couldn't justify buying 2 new books when, like I said, I literally have STACKS, like STACKS, plural, of books that I still need to read.

Plus, I included these because I had time to write these Post-Its, and my handwriting is much nicer and truer to form in the pink ones, while the one I'm about to show you was quickly scribbled, and the Catholic school training in me is embarrassed by my bad penmanship in this:

This is why I love my brother. He cracks me up. He saw this Post-It affixed to the front cover of the current book I'm reading, and when I wasn't paying attention, he scribbled that note. When I noticed it a day later on my way to work, I literally guffawed and was oddly touched.

Even though he doesn't want to go on a honeymoon with me. And really, who wouldn't?!

[Don't answer that.]

The Album That Keeps On Giving

2011-03-15T21:02:00.003-04:00

I know, I know, I'm late to the Mumford & Sons bandwagon (get it? "band"wagon?)

I only found out about them in the beginning of February, but it was an insta-like when I heard their song. I've always said Eddie Vedder probably has my favorite voice as far as male singers go, and Morrissey is probably my favorite lyricist, and in terms of style/physical appearance, it's Billie Joe Armstrong all the way, but this dude, who's name I admit, I'm gonna hafta google, (oh, ok, Marcus Mumford) is kinda doing all three for me, just in different ways than the three I just mentioned.

When I get to work, the first thing I do after slinking in and hoping no one notices how late I am, I say my hello's/pass out my daily hugs, set up laptop, turn on my IKEA nightlight, check my email, my Google Reader, craft some kind of snarky/in-my-opinion hilarious/thought-provoking/mundane status message for gchat, Twitter, and Facebook (sometimes a different one on each, sometimes not), then remembering that I really, really should check my work email, I go get coffee, fill up my Starbucks mug with ice water, and then I pull out my Skullcandy headphones and listen to music the rest of the day so as to appear very busy and important and uninterruptable. (And eventually check my work email.)

When I'm driving in the car, I'm big on singles. Pop singles mostly, but I throw in some rap for good measure. "Til the World Ends" by Britney Spears is my current fave, but holding strong after that right now are "We R Who We R" and "Born This Way" which I thought I was gonna hate, but it really has grown on me as a dance track.

At work however, when I'm writing, I like listening to an entire album from start to finish. Sometimes I'll listen to the same album multiple times in one day for an entire week, or until I get sick of it, or get a new recommendation. So even though it's been a month, I now officially declare Sigh No More by Mumford & Sons as the My New Official Album I Have Yet to Get Sick Of.

[The previous holder of this title was Lungs by Florence + The Machine, which I've been listening to since last August if that gives you any indication of just how sick of it I did not get.]

Every day I play this album, there is one more song to love even more; one more lyric that just gets to me; one more thing he does with his voice that could just leave me in pieces.

Today, lyrically, and emotionally, it's White Blank Page. Get to the part where he sings "swelling rage" and you literally can feel him and yourself swelling with emotion. At least I do.

I would pay lots of money to see these guys in concert. Lots.

Why Am I Not Famous?

2011-03-14T11:29:00.000-04:00

Today my friend Matt sent me a link:

When he sent me the correct video it was this:

Get through it if you can. I don't really get jealous of many people... J.K. Rowling maybe. But that's about it. And I'm very appreciative of my blog followers/readers/commenters, and quite honestly mean it when I say, I never expect anyone to read what I write and am always happy when they do.

But "Friday, Friday! Yesterday was Thursday, Thursday"??? This gets someone 2 million views?!

This girl sings about the days of the week! That's it!

One day, the world will appreciate MY ideas. Like this:

And the passwords would be really bad puns like: "Cum-spiracy." And we'd say things like, "We have lots of Skull & Boners as members."

Hilarious, right?!

Let's see how many views I get after this post.

Mamma Mia.

2011-03-13T20:29:00.001-04:00

I have an older sister, Val and younger brother, John. Yes, I'm a middle child, which, depending on your school of psychological thought, explains a lot of my attention-seeking ways with a simultaneous pathetic lack of self-esteem.

When we were younger, we'd always ask my parents which one of us they loved the most. They always answered the same: they "loved [us] all equally."We never really believed them, and were always pressing them to pick a favorite. Sometimes we'd get particularly inventive and asked them questions like this:

Me: "OK Mom, let's say, we were hanging off a cliff and you were holding me on one hand, and John on the other. And no one was around to help. Who would you drop?"

Mom: "Why are we on a cliff? I never take you guys on cliffs."

Me: "That's not the point! It's just like a cliff, Mom. Like a high hill. And we're both slipping, so you have to pick before we both fall onto the rocks below."

Mom: "Oh my God, what is wrong with you?"

Me: "Just answer!"

Mom: "I'd throw myself off the cliff so I wouldn't have to choose."

Me: "Nooo! That doesn't count. OK, what if John had just tried to kill Val? Would that make you want to pick me?"*

Mom: "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?"

*Not as psychotic as you think. I had just seen Macauley Culkin and Elijah Wood in The Good Son in the exact same scenario. Though they were cousins, but it was never as much fun when I inserted one of my cousins instead of one of my siblings into the scene.

Now that we're older, I finally believe them - that they do love us all equally. Where I think they were misleading is that they don't like us all equally.

I'm clearly my Dad's favorite, and my sister and my mother both share one (semi-psychotic) ((depending on the day of the week)) brain. And no one likes my brother best.

Haha!

Anyway! For whatever reason, and without using odd, creepy sayings like "I'm a Daddy's girl!" which also implies that he buys me things, which he doesn't, I will say that I get along with my Dad really well. We have sports rituals - we watch/play basketball and tennis together,** share very similar views on politics, and when my mother is mad at me, she will accuse me of being "just like Jimmy," and I can't help but agree with her.***

**I never mention sports on my blog. I have this thing where I pretend I don't like sports. But I do. I pretend I know nothing about them, even though I do. I don't know why I do this. Maybe because, I kinda get annoyed when anyone, male or female goes on and on about sports teams/stats because I think it's all a show, and two, it's better to let them think you're an idiot, and then surprise them by saying something about "backcourt defense."

***If I'm being rational, logical or slightly emotionally/physically lazy, I'm being like my Dad. When I'm being hysterical, telling a joke, a long-winded story and/or any other kind of dramatic display, that's the Mary in me.

Sometimes I feel bad because while my sister and my mother get along very well, and the inordinate amount of time they spend together would make me crazy, I feel bad because whenever my mom asks me if I want to go along, I almost never do. Either because I have other plans, or because what they want to do (nails, lunch, gossiping about other Greeks) would bore me.

So feeling bad stems from guilt for not being more upset that not being my Mom's favorite does not upset me, and I don't really care to spend more time with her than what I deem "normal" interactions once or twice a week.

I just have never shared a bunch of stuff with Mom. Anytime I had, she'd just judge me for it, or give me advice I didn't want to follow, and for whatever reason, I've always just kept her at an arm's length from me. It's mean. But it's true.

This past weekend, my sister asked me if I wanted to go outlet shopping with her and our Mom.

And as we are driving the hour or so to get there, and they're discussing other Greeks, family relations we hate, nails, their respective stupid and annoying coworkers who I know more about than I should considering I've never met these people, etc., my mom looks into her rearview and into the backseat where I'm sitting, staring off into space.

Mom: "So Maria, how's therapy going?"

Me: "It's fine."

Mom: "Yeah? Do you like your therapist?"

Me: "Yeah a lot. She's really cool."

Mom: "Maybe I should go to her."

Me (annoyed, but remaining terse and calm): "No. You can't anyway."

Val: "Yeah Mom. You can't do that. Conflict of interest. No good therapist would take two family members. Stop trying to butt in on her therapy. Go to your own."

Mom: "Oh my God! What is wrong with you two? I'm not saying I'm going to go to see her on my own! I meant, like I can go to a meeting with you."

Me: "I don't need you to. I've been going for months. I'm fine going alone. I'm not a baby."

Mom: "Yes you are. You'll always be my baby!"

(YES! She really said this!! And she really does believe this.)

Me (rolling my eyes): "Oh my God."

Mom (slight edge to her voice): "I just mean, that I want to go with you if I'm doing something that bothers you! You know, so I can fix it! I don't want to be bothering you!"

Me: "You're not. I barely talk about you in therapy."

Mom (completely hysterical): "Fine!! Don't talk about me in therapy!! Why doesn't that surprise me coming from you?!"

Me: "Oh my God! Do you WANT me to complain about you in therapy?! What are we arguing about?"

Mom: "Forget it Maria!"

My immediate thought was, this is why I don't usually trap myself in a car with her. I just can't win with her version of "logic."

And then I feel bad for not complaining about mother issues in therapy, and wondering, if I were a better daughter, WOULD I complain about my mother in therapy? Because would that at least mean we were closer? And that would make my mother happier...

And then I wonder if she had to answer over again, if she'd let go of my hand on that cliff.

(Kidding)

((Kind of))

My New Art Project

2011-03-06T20:22:00.007-05:00

I like having projects. I hesitate to say "I'm an artist" out loud not out of any kind of modesty, but because I think once you say that out loud, you sort of sound like an asshole.* It's like, there is this part of me that thinks if you have to claim to "be an artist," you're probably not a good one.

*sounding like an asshole is going to come into play later in this post... as you will see/hear.

I just like other people to call me an artist, but since I am the only writer of my blog, I have to go ahead and call myself an artist since no one else is gonna.

So in that vein, I like doing arty things, from makeup, to fashion, to take drawing classes, to painting class, screenwriting classes, etc. All in the attempt to a) find out what I'm good at and what I'm not so good at, and b) express myself. Or something.

What I love most is writing, but what I've noticed about writing and my process/journey of self discovery and self evaluation is that writing is only a part of me. It's like there is this honesty but then it's also kind of a persona. A literary persona. There is Maria in Real Life, and then there is No One Reads The Copy/Twitter Maria and then there is Facebook Maria and then there is Polite and Shy Maria, and Trusted Confidante Maria, Annoying Maria, and I'm In Front of the Client Maria, and no one of them is the whole me.

And I realized that all of these artistry attempts are me trying to show the world* who Maria is, in pieces, to get to the whole.

*whether the world actually cares or not remains to be seen. If past precedent is any indicator, then no, the world does not give a shit who the real Maria is.

The attempt to document my life/thoughts/feelings is an attempt at connection, whatever the medium. Because isn't that what art is? Connecting with a person through either shared experience? That moment of recognition... I've been there too. I've felt that too. I've had that same thought.

So I got a Flip Video camera for Christmas and decided I was going to video document my life, because if we can video document the lives of people like Snookie and the Situation, then surely I can do the same for myself without feeling any sense of shame.

And then I forget about it until this weekend. So I've recorded a few videos, which I will be sharing with all of you sporadically throughout my blog now.

All that explanation to say, I'm "vlogging" now, even though I hate that word. A lot.

The first clip is my test video and then the other one is a loooong one that I recorded that I tried to edit but ultimately am showing you the actual one, undoctored because video editing is now on the list of things I'm not so good at. Yet, anway.

WARNING: I TALK SO MUCH.

I rarely will watch a YouTube clip if it's over 30 seconds, and here I am, blathering on for over 3 minutes. Sorry if you're bored! You don't have to watch!!

Another note: these are blurry and sometimes the video/audio does not match up. I ended up liking that unintentional effect.

But that is not because of the Flip Video. What happened is that I debated back and forth about how I should record this video, and I decided that artistically, we should always see everything through the eye of the Flip Video camera, and I wanted to record myself recording myself because that is what was happening and it was too hard to do that just holding the camera up to my own face because it felt like the Blair Witch project. It was easier to have a fixed point, so I recorded myself recording myself on my laptop. Genius!

Video 2

So my thinking is that video recording myself is another attempt at trying to present a more cohesive picture of Who I Am, but I haven't quite achieved that in this first video because I'm very, very, very self conscious in it.

I also:

say "um" a lot
widen my eyes like I'm going to terrorized someone
widen my eyes like I'm being terrorized
giggle at my own jokes for no reason (THAT IS REAL LIFE!)
I do this weird "sssssss" thing as the end of my words!
I kind of sound like a bimbo, but I think I'm just nervous
I talk on and on and on and interrupt my own self a lot...

Which should surprise no one because I write a lot, a lot, a lot and interrupt myself when I'm writing to have stupid footnotes.

PS the line in the video: "this is how I talk when I talk about how I talk"?! What the fuck am I talking about?! That is just nerve-induced babbling.

Some of my next videos will include me, but mostly, I'm going to try to suck the marrow out of the bone of life and document what it is that I see/feel/think without having to necessarily have you hear it or see it coming out of my own mouth.

Like REAL photo/video journalism. Let you draw your own conclusions.

And like all my projects, I'll probably abandon this one too because I'll get bored or it won't go the way I want it to.

Enjoy!

I Need to Move to Boston

2011-03-02T17:44:00.002-05:00

What My Life Would Be Like...

2011-02-28T01:00:00.000-05:00

...if I were Anne Hathaway:

a) I'd write a crime caper about a princess who dates a street urchin with a heart of gold who masquerades as a rich person but is really a criminal who ends up in jail. I'd pitch it to Hollywood producers as The Princess Diaries meets Aladdin meets The Town.

b) I'd hope that everyone forgets how cheesy, clunky and crap-tastic both my Oscar hosting and Oscar dresses/tuxedo were just the same way I made them forget that I dated a street urchin without a heart of gold who masqueraded as a rich financier who knew the Pope but was instead a criminal who ended up in jail.

c) I'd wish that MORE people would confuse me with Shakespeare's wife

d) I'd maybe consider getting a tan.

If you answered all of the above, you'd be wrong! If you answered none of the above, you'd also be wrong!

You should've answered C. I would also give out partial credit if you answered A and/or B.

In all seriousness, if I were Anne Hathaway, I would totally wear all that red lipstick, hair extensions and those statuesque dresses she does, but I probably wouldn't show my boobs as much or like, at all, and I would probably stop being so humble like she is all the time, like totally, totally obsequious and "in awe" of other actresses and instead be a total bitch diva.

Sorry, that sentence got away from me. But it's kinda true.

What I wouldn't do is D - get a tan. I pride myself on being pale. I like being pale. I've been made fun of quite a bit for liking being pale, since pre-Jersey Shore days, and now that we can all make fun of Snooki's Oompah Loompah like orangey resemblance, I think there is a strong case to be made for cutting the "T" out of GTL-ing.

And as I was watching the transculent, waif-like Miss H. make embarrassing after embarrassing joke that actually made me feel awkward and cringey like when I used to watch episodes of Jerry Springer and literally hide behind the couch cushions, I noticed just how pale she was.

And recalled this conversation with a friend of mine WHO ATTACKED MY LOOKS OUT OF NOWHERE even though he, if pressed, would probably not recount the conversation in such the same manner.

And then, after meeting with my stony silence - which men are just so dumb about because obviously, whether or not you believe me that I'm secure about pale - WHICH I AM - no one likes to be told their picture is not good since I wouldn't have put it up if I didn't think it looked nice, so then that just calls into question my ability to recognize a nice photo of myself and then that just sets me off on a tailspin of questioning what else I think I am good at doing that clearly I'm NOT that good at doing, and if you think that all that analysis of one presumably innocuous comment should make you hesitate to criticize me in the future, then you'd be RIGHT and you should GO WITH THAT.

But honestly, men can be so dumb. And I would say to my friend, hope you're reading this and realizing that yes, I think you're dumb sometimes, but oh wait, that's right, you made a very pointed comment to inform me that you no longer read my blog, so I could call you whatever I wanted and you'd have no idea, but all I really do want to call you is DUMB, which I just did. TWICE.

And since you don't even read this, who am I talking to right now in that paragraph....?

Rereading this conversation, I can see that I totally use humor as defense mechanism and make jokes instead of addressing that my feelings were kinda hurt by his comment, but admitting that would make me feel weak, so instead I just sound like a shrew... so I really have to think which is worse... weak/vulnerable vs. bitter/shrewish.......

Anyway!

This was the photo in question. Is the exposure effed up a little? Sure. But did I think it sorta made the pic look kinda cool since it was in such contrast with my dark eyes? YES!!!!!!!!!!!

If I WERE Anne Hathaway, I sincerely doubt she'd have to deal with a friend telling HER she looked like Powder. Though, Powder was telepathic, which sometimes I think I am. Or at least, I can definitely feel other people's feelings, because I'm like, super empathic.

In addition to my heightened sense of smell, which I totally have, that would be my super power.

Kinda lame. With a Super Sense of Smell and Super Feeling Ability, it's Smell-Tastic Girl!

Anyway! If I were Anne Hathaway, I could blend into my ivory dress like THIS:

And instead, I'd have everyone saying how pretty I looked! Just like, yeah, sure, I'm pale. And no, from a distance you can't see where my dress ends and I begin. ::shrug:: So what? James Franco doesn't mind.

And I'd have a bunch of pale friends to make me feel normal.

The Original Paley. Pale with a Side of Botox.

Pale with a Side of OK We Get It, You're Unconventionial

Pale & I Bet I'd Be The Kind of Girlfriend Who You Think Is Totally Laid Back and Cool and Beautiful When You First Date Her But Then You Realize She's Either A Bunny Boiler or a Cold Hearted B*tchFace.

Pale & Always Looks Perfect

The Young and the Pale.

These captions make NO sense. But at least I don't think I'm really good at caption writing the way I think I'm really good at picking out nice photos of myself.

If I did, any mean comments might severely hurt my feelings. If I got a mean comment about these awful captions, I'd totes understand.

So based on skin tone alone, I think I deserve an Oscar or something. OK FINE.

A nomination would be an honor in and of itself.

Never Give A Zombie Girl A Piggyback Ride

2011-02-26T00:25:00.001-05:00

I love zombies. I love video games.

To date, my favorite zombie video game was Resident Evil 4. I swear, I toned my butt playing that game because I would always clench it during the scary parts. Which is the entire game.

Today, my friend John told me about this new game that is coming out this year, called Dead Island. It is the most awesome video game trailer I have ever seen. So cinematic.

I want to know who put this together. If they had an agency or did this in house.

Oh PS, you have to log into your YouTube account to watch it because you have to be 18 years of age at least. I think it has to do with the violent images involving children. I guess that makes sense. I find it funny that in this, the remake of Dawn of the Dead and the opening scene of The Walking Dead, it's always, always a zombie girl. I think we're supposed to get our heart strings (not literally) pulled by the image of a literal girl attacking/eating her family.

It's used to great effect here:

And it's okay if you got a little choked up watching it. Just to make you feel better, watch this literal rendition of everything that happens in the trailer. It made me and all my coworkers laugh this afternoon.

I literally couldn't stop saying "Flirt with the zombie" the rest of the afternoon.

And had a guffaw at the "why did you vacation at a place called Dead Island... Yelp it next time."

Sound advice for a zombie apocalypse or just regular living.

Where Brooklyn At? Where Brooklyn At?

2011-02-23T21:10:00.001-05:00

(If someone had only gotten Biggie a GPS for Christmas, maybe he wouldn't have felt so lost...)
((You think that's a bad joke?! How about this: Two cannibals were eating a clown. One of them turned to the other and said: "Does he taste funny to you?"))

I had a really great weekend. I know, it's Wednesday, and I'm still talking about my weekend, but it was a good one.

One of my best friends from my childhood had a baby boy who is adorable; my college roommate got engaged (and I'm super happy for her, because he is such a great guy. And I'm not just saying that because she may or may not be reading this. You know how sometimes people tell you that you got engaged and through your smile you're thinking, you're rushing into this/really? I don't think you two are very compatible/I give it six months/well, you've been dating long enough so I guess it was time/some other horrible thing you would never say aloud, in this case, I'm SO excited for her because he's a great guy and I know they'll be happy), my sister turned 30 so she's really OLD and that just emphasizes how youthful I am, and finally, I went to visit one of my other closest friends who now lives in Brooklyn.

Even though Brooklyn is a pain in the ass to get to, I like having plans in NYC/Manhattan/boroughs. Which Maria From A Year Ago would never have said.

I have totally warmed up to Manhattan. I used to think it was overrated, but I've actually really started to appreciate it more since I think I kind of took it for granted having grown up only 45 minutes away. Also, I just like getting on the train to Grand Central because it's uninterrupted reading/music listening time but with a sense of adventure!

The worst thing that can happen on the train is when I get stuck on a window seat where a previous passenger laid their greasy head against it and left a smudge because there is almost nothing grosser to me IN THE WORLD.

::shudder::

Except for moldy fruit.

::double shudder::

In addition to catching up with my friend, I visited the most awesome card/toy/gift shop ever called Scaredy Kat on 5th Ave at the corner of President and Carroll.

I was like a kid in the candy store - the funniest greeting cards and the kitschiest gifts. In addition to the ones I'll list below, the gifts I purchased that were not pictured include: a gnome pin for my coworker who is obsessed with gnomes; a cupcake pin for another; a sheet of stinky scratch 'n sniff stickers for a friend of mine that included skunk and gym socks among others.

Here are the others:

ZOMBIE FINGER PUPPETS

(pic from their blog)

I brought them to work so we can all put on a theater performance above our cube dividers. Fun! The scene below is from the soap opera I'm scripting called: "Zombie Heartbreak."

will this kiss each other or bite each other's faces off?! FIND OUT TOMORROW! Duhn duhn duhn!!!

The cutest mug for our terrible office coffee. It was between this and another with a Book and a little worm (for Bookworm) ((Duh)). I couldn't decide, but I finally picked this one at the end, and I'm glad.

A notebook I found but didn't purchase. I've been on the hunt for an approachable, but nice notebook. One that you won't feel bad about using, or feel like you have to have a quill or a nice pen or that you can't make a mistake, so nothing like Moleskin, but like, Mead/Five Star is like, rather juvenile, so a nicer notebook, but still like, usable.

If this is how picky I am with notebook, again, it is no wonder I'm single. And I didn't pick this notebook up either, but I thought it was amusing and almost wished that I was in a fight with another blogger so I could send them this. Almost.

Finally, when I got to work on Tuesday, it perfectly coincided with a coworker getting her wedding hair accessory for her own upcoming nuptials, and she ended up HATING this hairpiece, so she left me do what I wanted with it, and we found a semi-permanent home for one of my zombie finger puppets.

And this pic is just to show you guys my new brown hair! I'm no longer a redhead. I've decided that for now, I do not need my hair to speak for my personality. My personality will speak for my quirky personality. Seriously. Today, one of the dudes from HR whom I've known since high school stopped by my desk today, and like while I was talking about something, gave me an amused smirk and said, "you know, you're really weird Maria." And I said, "Like what do you mean?" And he said, "I dunno, you're slightly off. Like not in a bad way, but just like very eccentric." (Which is what my therapist says!) ((But of course I didn't tell him that.)) (((Who am I kidding, yes I did.)))

And then I said, "But I don't think you can that by looking at me though? Like, just when you start talking to me, right?" And he pointed at my clothes and said, "Umm, no. I think your mint green jeans might give away that you're a little off."

But those jeans were from Uniqlo and I refuse to take fashion advice from a man with non-descript jeans AND a daily "uniform" of button down shirts and half zip sweaters.

You can also see the new earrings I got, also from Brooklyn, from this cute like jewelry store where everything is hand-made.

This post has been so meandering and non-sequitury.

Bananas.

The Human Centipede Could've Been A Romantic Comedy

2011-02-14T23:15:00.000-05:00

So another part of my Valentine's Day weekend including having a girls' night in on Friday, followed by a night out with some friends to go watch our friend perform with his band at a local bar. On our girls' night in, I baked many, many vanilla cupcakes that I decorated with a vanilla wafer that I dipped into candy chocolate and drizzled with white frosting into a heart shape. Very cute.

So during our GAL-entine's Day night, we started talking about movies, and then we mentioned The Human Centipede. I mean, I mentioned The Human Centipede. It's not exactly something that just randomly comes up in conversation.

A few of the girls hadn't seen it, and I was flabbergasted as this movie has been on my radar for over a year now. I tried to explain the premise with a few of the other girls who had seen it, but decided that the best way to explain the movie was just to have them watch it. DUH.

What I noticed on my second time viewing it is that once you know what is going to happen, it plays more like a comedy than a horror movie. Well, at least this is how I handled the stress of choosing to watch 3 people surgically sewn together, ass to mouth - by laughing at it.

Normal, right?

What I also noticed is that in no way should two actresses ever say each other's names so much "But Jessica!!" "Lindsay!! I told you we're lost." "But Jessica!!" "Lindsay!!" "Jessica!"

And that Dr. Dieter is the creepiest man ever.

"I found my B" and "Feed her!" are two of the sickest, yet strangely humorous lines ever uttered in a horror movie.

I also noticed that 2 of the girls were sitting on the floor, heads basically in their laps, covering their eyes and looking sad and dejected. So much so that I felt it was time to turn it off, however reluctantly.

And then I saw this today:

If you want to know what love is....

And so I sent it to all the girls with a message of, had so much fun on friday, let's do it again soon, happy valentine's day!! Just to get a reaction.

Happy Valentine's Day everyone!

I Like The Way You Flirt - Part I.

2011-02-14T23:00:00.000-05:00

The best Valentine's Day I ever had was when this guy named Julio had a crush on me and got me a box of chocolates and a card shaped like a peanut that said: "I'm NUTS About You."

This was in 1st grade.

All subsequent Valentine's Day have passed by without any consequence. In second grade, I got my glasses and that pretty much was the last time in my childhood I was called "cute" without someone just saying it ironically.

All adult Valentine's Days haven't been disappointments only because I haven't had anyone to let me down. Which sounds more depressing than I mean it to! But I really don't hate Valentine's Day.

I actually kind of like it. I *do* think it's a corporate holiday, but I think ALL holidays are corporate holidays - Halloween, Christmas, Easter, Flag Day. Nor am I going to lament that I'm single - I'm single most other days of the year too, so February 14th is really no different.

I like the chocolates, and the pun-ny, groan-worthy cards, I like candy, I like the fun of it, and I'm not even a fan of pink!

And like with all things having to do with love and relationships, I've learned to manage my expectations by honestly and truly having NO expectations. So that's why I was pleasantly surprised to come to work today and see the following things:

Why yes. Yes I am. Thank you Secret Admirer.

A creme-filled donut from Dunkin' Donuts called "Cupid's Choice." I hate to say this, but the copywriter for DD has GOT to be female. A female mastermind that is. Because who else would force anyone to order a donut called "Cupid's Choice"? Someone who's laughing at all the poor schmoes she forced to say it.

From Matt.

I should've just said thanks. I'm working on accepting compliments better and not dismissing or acting bored when people are nice to me. (issues!!)

Today at work, one of the older ladies said that I'm like everyone's little sister. And the other day at lunch, after everyone was giving me a hard time about something, one of the guys said this about me, which I think is stunningly accurate: "I don't get it Maria. Some weeks around here, everyone treats like a princess and does whatever you say and you get presents and food and all the stuff. And then just like that, the next week everyone is making fun of you and constantly teasing you."

I know! I mean, there is a part of me that doesn't mind getting teased and bothered about some of my quirks and eccentricities, because I am addicted to talking about myself.

Clearly.

And I like when people make observations about things I do. Such as my style of flirting, which seems an appropriate topic given today's date:

Yes, I wave my arms when I talk. Apparently, I also slap my hips when I'm making a point. And then I giggle. Girlishly. Ooops! You probably would too. He really does look just like Trent! Even though, I do get annoyed by his creepish antics still sometimes. He's taken to calling me "sweetheart" which just kinda irks me... Anyway!

The Next Incident:

There is this guy at work who we all think would be perfect for me. I resented it at first because I thought it was a you're single and so is he kind of pairing, but I was intrigued when someone presented it as: no, I think you guys would be good together because he's funny but quiet, and you're funny but loud, so it's perfect because he'll make you laugh but won't steal your spotlight.

YESSSS!!!

But I still maintain, that in the instance cited above, telling someone who is complaining that their stomach is bothering them and they have a weird pain on their left side with a snap-your-fingers immediate diagnosis of "diverticulitis" which you know because you recently had a pain in your own left side and immediately googled your symptom, since that is what you do anytime you have any kind of symptom, is not a great way to flirt, but a great way to get called "crazy."

Which he did call me.

Because I am. But that's all part of my charm... that is clearly not working or I probably wouldn't be single on Valentine's Day... BUT, I maintain, someone one day will find me as amusing as I do.

The Highs and Lows of Being Maria

2011-02-09T23:13:00.000-05:00

I am a very hard person to buy presents for. Not because I'm picky. But because I cry.

And not tears of joy. Every time I receive a present, I get really, really sad. Perhaps this speaks to my subconscious and underwhelming sense of self-worth, but I get really overwhelmed by thinking of the fact that a person (or group of people) spent time coordinating a gift for me, with the intent of making me happy, and that they spent any amount of money on me.

It just makes me sad. I know it's a combination of being touched, but I also just feel sad.

I try to save the tears for later, like driving in my car or before I go to bed, and only a few times have I cried in front of the gift-giver. Like when my coworkers planned a surprise party to congratulate me on my new apartment. I walked in to the room for a faux last-minute meeting and instead was greeted with smiling face, my "theme song" blaring from the speakers, and a table full of cupcakes, a card they all signed, a $100 gift card PLUS gifts for my new apartment, and I couldn't help but get choked up.

I also feel like, at my age, and because I'm so self-indulgent when it comes to shopping, I am lucky enough to be fully employed, so if I want something, I can purchase it for myself. And if I can't afford it, ~~that's what credit cards are for~~ then I can save up to buy it later. And that when my family asks me what I want for Christmas, and I put "thermal socks" on my list, I legit mean it - that's all I want.

(Also I'm cheap and don't want to put the heat on. Just enough so the pipes don't freeze.)

However, my sister got married last year, and wanted to buy the people in the bridal party a gift to thank us for everything. She bought me 2 necklaces - one was the statement necklace I wore at the wedding:

And then another just because:

It's from Marc Jacobs, as part of his Miss Marc line. And I love it! My sister said she saw it and it totally reminded her of me because of what I looked like when I was younger. And that sometimes when she pictures me, she still pictures me as the kid she grew up with:

Honestly, I can never get enough of this picture. I know I've included it on this blog before, but may have taken it off at some point. But either way, I love, love, love it. I was so ugly it's cute, you know?

Anyway, like those celebs they feature in the magazines and they'll have headline like, [She] Really Loves Her {Fill in the Blank} and show "her" in multiple locations on different days with her "Cheetah scarf" "Birkin bag" "Leopard heels" "Leather jacket" "Oliver Peoples sunglasses" etc., there are certain articles of clothing or accessories that I wear over and over again.

Maria Really Loves Her Multi-Silver-Ball Ring from a Small Boutique*:

*meaning no one else has it!!

Maria Really Loves Her Gold Chain Bracelet from The Loft:

And now, the necklace I wear pretty much every day, barring the days where a long dangly necklace makes more sense, I exclusively wear my Miss Marc necklace, and have been since September.

Evidence here:

you can't really really see it, but trust me, it's there.

And the other day, I couldn't find my necklace. My beloved necklace. The thing someone else picked for me that I loved more than most things I pick for myself.

I searched high and low. But it was no where to be found. I checked pockets in coats, jeans I just wore, jeans it would have no reason to be in, purse compartments, garbage bags, in between my car seats, my couch cushions... EVERYWHERE.

And the tears I didn't shed when I first received the necklace finally came. I was, in no uncertain terms, and not dramatically overstated, completely devastated.

So I did the only thing I could think to do. Take to Facebook and appeal for ~~attention~~ help. I created this flyer:

Did I really expect anyone on my social network to know where my necklace was? Nope. But I just had to share how sad I was.

And sometimes, I know this is crazy, I feel like there are little elves or fairies in my life who play tricks on me and hide things from me and then I turn around and then they put it back in plain sight and laugh at me as I think, how did I not notice it RIGHT THERE?! Because that is totally what happened and I found my necklace in my jewelry case, and I know you think DUH, but I swear, I checked that thing TWELVE times, but there you have it. It was there the whole time.

And you think this is fascinating? That's not even all the drama in my world!

Stay tuned for the next installment where I finally tell you about my complicated decision-making process, why I am indeed the funniest person in the world, and what would've been my final thought when I had a harrowing experience wherein I narrowly evaded the clutches of Death...

Risking My Life This Week Was Totally, Totally Worth It.

2011-02-05T20:50:00.001-05:00

We've been getting a lot of snow, sleet, ice and rain in my part of the Northeast. I can honestly say that after the coldest, snowiest month of January on record that the best part of the winter is how pretty I am.

The second best part of the winter has been my new Sorel Caribou boots. I've only had these boots for less than 48 hours, but they're already the second best part. Which we can interpret to mean one of 2 things: either these boots are effin awesome or it should just go to show how ~~not~~ awesome my January was!

These boots remind me of my childhood. Not that I ever wore $110 boots, nor did I ever ice camp or even go on nature hikes in the winter, and I hate being cold and never wanted to go outside as a kid and my parents worried I was going to have a vitamin D deficiency, but all my friends were inside the house, meaning inside the TV, meaning inside our Nintendo NES and who was going to save the Princess if I was outside making futile attempts at a snowman instead of futile attempts to find the Princess but always in the wrong effin castle!?

So now that I'm 28 1/2, I've learned to be much smarter about my money than I used to be when I was young, i.e. the age of 27, so I only purchased these because I recently came into some money, as my monthly horoscope predicted I would! Thank you Jupiter!

So after I bought 2 modcloth.com dresses, a white blazer from The Loft, I purchased these from Zappos and not even with expedited shipping which is what I usually do since I am so impatient. And one could say, well, if you're so impatient, why online shop at all at places like The Loft and why not just go get them immediately in the store, but then I would say, I like the anxiety of waiting for something since I hate waiting, and it creates drama in my mostly vacant life.

I tweeted how excited I was, and couldn't wait to be a fashionable snow-walker, and then Zappos tweeted back to me! So then they sent me an email saying, oh guess what, that shipment that was supposed to go out tomorrow is actually leaving tonight, so lucky you. So I wrote back and said:

Is that called Sucking Up To Customer Service?

You bet your ass it is. But seriously, if someone does a good job, you should tell them because there are so many shitty customer service policies at other companies. Like the other day, I sent J.Crew an email to let them know that the subject line of their email "We love a good sale" has been Ann Taylor Loft's sale platform for over a year now and they should rethink using another company's copy.

Crickets. Crickets! That's what I heard back from them when I'm just trying to show them that they need their own distinctive tone and voice in today's retail market. Though am I shocked that J.Crew is out of touch? Not really, when they're still acting like the recession didn't happen and charging $90 bucks for a flimsy cotton tee.

Zappos on the other hand sent me this humorous and well-crafted response:

And then... TA-DA!!

See what being a suck-up does?! Totally, totally worth it.

And even though we have something like 3 feet of accumulated snow on the ground, and you can't see at all when you're driving, and getting out of a driveway, or turning into a road is so dangerous and all my Facebook feed talks about is how sick people are of the snow or pictures of their backyards and porches showing all of us the snow that we are all experiencing, like meteorologists or something, I on the other hand, have kept pretty mum about the snow.

It's been giving me a lot of "work from home" days which as we well know are just excuses to bake cookies, watch soap operas in real-time as opposed to on my DVR, and not wear pants.

But this Wednesday, I was getting cabin fever and I was scared of eating any more of the white chocolate macadamia nut cookies I had been baking in a 24 hour rotation.

So when my boss whom we loving call Chicken Little since he allows us to stay home at the slightest CHANCE of precipitation, sent me this IM...

...I decided I wasn't really going to be able to get any work done and decided to strap on my boots and venture into work.

Granted, I took my sweet ass time, and de-iced my car, read my book, took a long shower, ate lunch, drove slowly, and got into the office at precisely 2:23 p.m.

And when I arrived there, feeling like a hero, I was shocked to see that no one of any upper management importance was there!!

(the second time he really did hahaha. the first time he just smirked.)

So because I got to wear my boots, one of my bosses saw me and I'm now a Zappos VIP, risking my neck in an ice storm was totally, totally worth it.

Even though, I later found out that a flasher harassed one of the female employees in the parking lot after work since it was so deserted and now none of us are allowed to leave the building without a buddy. And I was like whoa... I left right around the time she did. That so could've been me.

Still... worth it.

Decisions, Decisions. Part One.

2011-02-01T00:23:00.002-05:00

At my first job out of college, I worked as an editor.

Maybe that sounds glamorous to you. It shouldn't. At least not for the type of publications my company managed. I was luckily placed on one really fun account for campus guidebooks for universities all around the country. It's the book every student gets on in their mailbox or on the first day: a book filled with campus information, directories and really fun ads to be placed in those books - for like pizza places, calzone shops, doctors offices, etc. (These were the things I included in my book/portfolio when applying for other jobs.)

But mostly, as a company, we updated the phone book.

Like not the yellow pages, not the white pages. But the pages either in the front or in the middle that NO ONE knows exist. Please note that this was like 2004 and just at cusp of the phonebook becoming not only obsolete due to the internet, but a symbol of environmental terrorism. The latter at least how I look at it. I'd disclaim that and say, hey phonebook companies if you're reading this, don't sue me! But I don't even think they exist anymore.

Do they?!

The pages we edited and sourced listed local area attractions, parks, museums, city/town events, pictures and a lot of information for newcomers.

Mostly it was calling a lot of places to verify that we had the most correct information, and them just hanging up on me because they thought I was trying to sell them something.

Now, for context, today at work someone was asked for their opinion on a heated topic, and this person responded passive aggressively jokingly with: "Well, I don't want to pull a Maria here..."

Meaning, I don't want to sound like a bitch.

(My thought was, No, you certainly wouldn't be mistaken for Maria, or a bitch, as it were... but you certainly sound like an idiot! Your boss is asking for your opinion. You and I just ranted and raved about this at lunch! SPEAK NOW! I know you feel the same way I do!!)

But back then, I was wayyy nicer. Like meek, shy and the person least likely to stand up for herself or say anything mean or potentially offensive or aggressive. I THOUGHT these things. Just would never say them.

So one day, we interviewed an editorial assistant named Tara. Immediately upon speaking with Tara, it was very clear to me that she was not very bright.

When I asked Tara why she wanted a job as an editorial assistant, if she saw her career path eventually leading to become an editor, she very proudly recounted this explanation:

Did you watch Dawson's Creek? Oh my God, I just cried when they cancelled that show. Just cried! It was the best show ever. You know Joey Potter? She was just my favorite. I LOVE her. I want to BE her. And if you watch the last episode, they fast forward through time and they show where all of them ended up and Joey is an editor. And she's really inspirational. So I wanted to be one too.

When pressed to answer what an editor actually DID, she fumbled and said she wasn't sure, but she was "a real quick learner."

Now, I very roundaboutly stated that I thought we could possibly maybe find another candidate. But my boss was very excited to have Tara on board so I found myself agreeing. After all, who was I to say that someone shouldn't get a chance?

And a week later, in walks Tara and sits down at her new cube.

I later discovered that my boss had met her in a restaurant where Tara was waiting on tables and Tara had recounted this very same story to my boss. And instead of thinking OH.MY.GOD like I did, my boss found it endearing and gave Tara her business card. I think my boss had delusions of plucking Tara from the depths of her own personal waitressing hell... like Roger Sterling did with Jon Draper as we just found out this season.

Anyway! So Tara became my editorial assistant. And I tried to ignore her personality issues and focus on helping her, training her, and teaching her. And when she was focused, Tara was surprisingly smart.

But her personality got in the way of her. Her moods were always shifting, high/low, high/low. Sometimes day to day, but often times hour to hour!

Every morning from her cube you could a rattling sound. When I finally looked in to see what it was, it was the sound of Skittles emptying out of a bag and directly into her mouth. She would jerk her head back 180 degrees and then just let the Skittles fall in. She amazingly never choked on her breakfast.

Then the inevitable sugar crash, where by 11 a.m., she'd on complaining about being SO hungry for lunch (these were her best days), or sobbing uncontrollably about any number of personal problems: having slept with her stepfather/her boyfriend giving her a contact high every night because he smoked so much weed and she thought she was still high even right now/her pick-up truck getting repossessed/etc. These were the bad days.

One day, she told me a story about her tattoo on her foot.

She had aborted a child about a year prior and to commemorate the day of the child's would-be birth, she got a tattoo of a jellyfish.

Why a jellyfish? Because she thought of her baby as Squishy.

Why Squishy? That was a character in Finding Nemo.

In part 2 I will get to why I'm telling you this story about Squishy and making decisions based on Pop Culture or other intangible concepts.

Today I Got Two Glimpses Into My Future

2011-01-17T00:09:00.001-05:00

I was hanging out with my best friend last night before she goes back to San Francisco again, and we were with her little ten-year-old sister, Sophia.

I think Sophia is awesome. She dresses however she wants - which right now, is exactly like a boy. Down to the boxer briefs.

Even though I'm so girly now, when I was younger, I was a huge tomboy, as much as I was allowed to be. I couldn't ever dress like a boy or get a boy haircut, but even so, I only wanted to hang out with my male cousins, hated any kind of dolls or makeup or jewelry, and almost made my dad cry when I announced to him one day while he was watching football that wished I could be a boy.

No seriously. I've only seen my dad cry twice in my life: when my grandfather died and then at my sister's wedding. And hearing that his then-ten-year-old daughter wanted to be boy was clearly up there in terms of emotional life events that would move a grown man to tears.

Anyway, Sophia is a pretty awesome kid because she's growing up in a time where at least parents are enlightened enough to allow their kids to have more self-expression. Like the time I told my mother that I wanted to dye my hair blue or that if she didn't get me a dog for my 16th birthday I was going to turn into a drug addict slut, and she denied me in both cases. So she's to blame for the state of my life now.

No. I am not a drug addict slut with blue hair. I'm just a REPRESSED one.

Sophia was telling me about school and how she had the best day ever last week. Thinking maybe she did really well on a test, or scored a goal in her soccer game or something, I asked her why it was the best day ever.

She told me: "Well, we were in the cafeteria. For lunch. And they had french fries. But I already had my lunch. And I didn't want to go back. To the beginning of the line. So I went behind the lunch lady to just go to where the french fries. And she yelled at me."

Sophia takes a lot of long pauses between thoughts like kids do. And quite honestly, I couldn't keep up with her lunch line imagery - going behind the lunch lady to get fries? So maybe this makes sense. Doesn't really matter. Anyway, I asked her, "So she yelled at you? Why was that the best day ever then?"

Sophia continued: "Because she yelled at me and she said: 'Young man, you need to go to the beginning of the line!'"

Hahaha!! I literally almost died laughing. She got excited because she was mistaken for a boy.

Anyway, she asked me last night to come watch her soccer game today, and I said sure. Not that I had any intention of blowing her off, but I say yes to lots of things and always back out at the last minute because of "stomach cramps," "work," "I'm really tired," "oh you have no idea, today was just an emotionally draining day," "literally JUST made other plans, if you had only asked a second sooner," "TOTES forgot about this family thing I have to do," etc. that when I got the text this afternoon asking me if I were coming, all I could think was OH SHIT.

I was still unshowered, stinky, and not planning on leaving my couch until my stench got the better of me and then I forced myself to shower. But even after THAT, I still had no intention of leaving the confines of my apartment.

But then my guilt got the better of me and I thought, I can't do that to a kid.

So I took the quickest shower of my life, didn't put on ANY makeup, not even my contact lenses, tucked my still-wet hair into my wooly hat, and threw a sloppy outfit that I wear if cleaning the house - sweatpants, hoodie with holes in it, and uggs.

I make it to the game, and I'm thinking, if this kid only knew how much I love her for appearing in public like this - so I'm already feeling like a hero.

Now, maybe because it's not my kid, but as I'm sitting around, observing the parents of the girls, I'm like, whoa, I can so not picture myself being this passionate about kids' sports. They were yelling at the kids, coaching from the sidelines, yelling out calls that the ref missed, throwing their head in their hands at missed opportunities, etc.

Do you know what I was thinking and then saying? I'll tell you:

Ugh, I really REALLY would not have picked that bubblegum pink for their uniforms! I mean, it's such a soft pink. SO pandering.
What is that guy doing in the middle of the field?! Why is he stopping the game! Get him off there, I mean, that should be a penalty for somebody!! (Turned out, he was the ref.)
Did you just cheer for the other side? I thought we were on this side. (I forgot about switching at half-time.)
You know what the biggest lesson is here? You have to tie a ponytail a few times. Look at how loose that girl's hair is. I think she's not playing well because she's so distracted by her wispies.
Why do they all have to "take a knee" when one player gets hurt?! How will the ref know who is injured if they're all lying on the ground playing dead?!

I don't know. I know I have a problem with not taking things seriously when I should, like, say, my credit card bill due dates, (and then taking other things wayyy too seriously when I should only be taking them maybe mildly seriously), but all I could think was, parents, relax. Maybe I'll feel differently when it's The Spawn of My Own Womb flittering around the field out there, but even when I played basketball as a kid... I remember my mom yelling at me in Greek to punch the other girls' lights out (not kidding) and my dad coaching me and scolding me about the fact that there are two parts to a game, offense AND defense, and I had to play defense too... and I just look at these kids and think, it's just a game.

I just can't picture myself caring and getting worked about a sports game for children. And then, I know, The Spawn of My Own Womb will hate me for not caring about the things they're passionate about and not supporting them, instead of hating me for pushing them so hard and making them hate the thing that they wanted to love.

After the game, I went to my parents' house for food since all I have in my cabinets are a bag of M&M's (family size), a bag of mini-popcorn, and Strawberry Milkshake Pop-Tarts. My mother sees me and usually she gets all excited to see me and tries to smother me with hugs and kisses, but she takes one look at me and I see her face fall.

My mother has an inability to mask her thoughts and feelings - which I am guilty of myself - and she now has on her classic I Just Smelled A Repellent Fart That I Am Blaming On You Face.

She asked me where I went today. I told her. Her sneer continued.

Then she finally said: "You're either trying to tell the world you're a lesbian or want to be single for life by wearing that outfit."

Then she went into her room and started playing Greek music from the old country. Which means she's sad and who the eff knows, probably wishing her parents never got on the boat and left the homeland in the first place so that way she could have normal kids who would all be married with kids by now, not sitting alone in an apartment with a hideous outfit that would put a cat lady to shame.

I assume this. Who knows! I asked my sister if she agreed and she said, no, I think you look more like Where's Waldo, and then proceeded to say "Found ya!" or "There you are!" any time she saw me for the remainder of the night.

And that folks, was my weekend.

A "Member" of the Family

2011-01-11T22:32:00.001-05:00

I consider myself very lucky in that I Have The Greatest Friends On Earth. It's true.

Because I initial-capped that shit.

As I described in my "Rip Roarin' New Year's" post, I mentioned that 2010 was a pretty sucky year but I didn't get into the why of it. And there are plenty of examples I could bring up as to why; events big and small that contributed to The Suckiest Year of My Life When I Already Thought A Year of Growing Out A Pixie Mullet Was The Worst.

What I will say is: the single biggest, and quite frankly, consistent contributor to my misery was a four-letter word.

Work.

I have a post planned soon that will explain in as much carefully worded detail as I can without getting in trouble, but despite a lot of my literal blood*, sweat and (lots of) tears that have gone into my job, I've also gotten a lot out of it, personally.

*papercuts count, right?

I have the greatest group of coworkers ever. Actually, let me state that as: I have The Greatest Group of Coworkers Ever. Ever.

I don't even consider them coworkers anymore. They're like friends. Hell, sometimes I even think of them as a makeshift family. We know each other so well - our quirks, our shortcoming, our annoying habits, our sore spots, what we like being teased about, what we cannot be teased about, what we secretly act like we cannot be teased about - and isn't that how you describe family?

My quirk: my constant dancing, which is mostly hip shaking.

My shortcoming: my impatient insistence on getting attention when I want it. i.e. neediness.

My annoying habit: my sloth-like laziness. If you know me, I will ask you to do me the most menial favors.

My sore spot: the chip of my shoulder from working so hard and being consistently overlooked

What I like being teased about: my laugh

What I cannot be teased about: my appearance.

What I secretly don't mind being teased about: my bootylicious booty

honestly, my butt is big. like round and out there. it's like whoa.

And work also brought me closer to my friend Matt. Another shortcoming of mine is that I'm not very inclusive of new people. I'm kind, I'm polite, but I'm also a little standoffish. I know that's not nice, but I just feel like the new person has to prove themselves to me before I let them in "the family." I promise you when I tell you that there is nothing romantic between Matt and I. Describing it as a little brother/older sister dynamic doesn't feel right either - but we just click. I feel like I've known him for a long time, and we both feed off our off-beat, and slightly sick and psychotic humor in a way that I don't feel very comfortable showing to many people.

Namely, I can be myself around him, and he accepts my shortcoming and quirks. And so I exploit that. :)

I had sent him a banner ad on a website I saw for the restaurant where we ate on our first lunch "date" and asked him if he remembered. And then he ignored me!!! And by "ignored me," I mean, that he did not respond within the appropriate amount of time. And by "appropriate amount of time," I mean, immediately.

And then, as if we couldn't get any weirdly closer, today he stopped by my office before the end of the day and then I kicked him out of my office because I had a kettlebell class I had to make, and he asked if I wanted something to remember him by, and I said, yes, a lock of your hair, and he said with a raised eyebrow, "from where"?

And this is where it gets a little sick. I said, you wouldn't! He said, oh i would, and then he plucked a hair from a certain region of his body and put it on my desk.

So I paused for a long time, not sure what the best response would be, and finally said, "I'm going to close my eyes and make a wish!!!" and then blew it away.

I know, I know. I tell you guys everything mostly - but maybe I shouldn't have told you all this... Anyway, this is what being friends with me is like!

(I know I'm going to wonder why I posted this after I hit "publish.")

I Beat Fruit Ninja

2011-01-09T21:07:00.002-05:00

Well, maybe that's not actually possible, but I heard that someone did beat Bejeweled2 and that seems implausible.

So I'm going to say that I beat Fruit Ninja since who is going to contradict me? I don't think there is any possible way that anyone has gotten a higher score than this - at least not in Arcade Mode, and without any Photoshop trickery or secret cheats/codes.

And yes, this is a challenge.

My Week In Review

2011-01-07T18:30:00.000-05:00

Here are all the fun(ny) conversations I had this week. Ahhh the joy of modern communication, especially when I consider that I sit not a few feet from most of these people.

My office has been the setting to more closed door tears than I count - and not just all my own. We've been talking about getting a sign for my door that says "The Doctor will see you now." But that sounds kinda creepy. But seriously... I'm like the office therapist. Add that to the list of things I do and the many roles I play at work that I don't get paid for.

My snarkiness aside, god love her, but her grammar is atrocious!

PLEASE NOTE THAT I SWITCHED IM ICONS DURING THE WEEK AS PART OF MY NEW YEAR, NEW YOU REGIMENT.

That is a lie. I don't have a New Year, New You regiment. I just wanted to call attention to my new icon since one of my friends told me I look like Nina Dobrev, who plays Elena in The Vampire Diaries, so I'm just hoping that one of you totes agrees about that in the comments section.

Remember how I had a post about an art director freelancer who looks like Trent from Daria? Well, if you don't remember, I mentioned this art director freelancer who looks like Trent from Daria who I thought hated me due to my Greek paranoia. BUT then, we got paired together for a project and now we're "friends" but now that I've been talking to him, he's totally giving me a creep vibe. He asked me for a drink after work. Of course I said no, because that is what I do. I mean, that's NOT why I got a creep vibe. It's not like I'm one of those silly girls who only likes guys who are emotionally unavailable and mean to her, but rejects guys who are perfectly nice and expressing actual interest. Not me AT ALL.

I was SUPER impressed that he knew what I was talking about. And if you don't know what that's a reference to, check THIS out.

Her cousin fell in love with me after seeing me tagged in her FB photos. I find the whole thing kind of amusing. But I'm super sad that she's moving to Brooklyn. You know what a pain in the ass BK is to get to?!

this is just what dating me would be like.

just me being my normal bitchy self.

and that is a wise man for realizing that so soon.

A Rip Roarin' New Year's

2011-01-02T14:14:00.001-05:00

2010 was a pretty shitty year as far as shitty years go. There were a few highlights - but those always grow out and the constant up-keep is getting to me, especially since my colorist is preggers and it seems kind of selfish asking a woman who is due in 3 weeks what she plans on doing after the baby in terms of maintaining our regularly scheduled appointments.

Kidding. One, I'm not that self-centered, and two, I mean, yes, there were some good parts to last year, but when I compare 2010 to 2009, I can say that 2010 remarkably sucked, which is saying something since 2009 is the year I had a PIXIE MULLET!

A pixie mullet is exactly as bad as it sounds. It was short in the front with pixie type bangs, short on the sides, and then this awful Carol Brady-esque "tail" (!!!!!!!) at the nape of the neck. I cried and I cried and I cried and I think 2009 was back when I was more polite, because I was in the salon and I just said "I love it" through the tears, which obviously no one believed. But if a pixie mullet happened to Maria in 2010 or 2011, I think I/she would insist on free extensions or SOMETHING, because life and bad haircuts have hardened me, man.

So the bar has been set pretty low for 2011, which is fine by me, and there are several things either ending, changing, or beginning that all seem to positive steps - or at least moves in the right direction.

And that's why, naturally, the only way to see off 2010 as an annoying footnote in the history of my life, was for my friends and I to have a 1920's style party. Something to do with The Great Depression/The Great Recession. But it was really fun. I mean, it was really the bee's knees!

I hope you enjoy the pics. I googled flapper hair/makeup and that's where I focused most of my "costume" energy on that. I typically like a darker eye with a nude/light lip, but apparently flappers did both dark eyes and dark lips, so I look kind of vampish, but it was fun for one night. I'm also including a dinner picture, but that's just to show you all that I make THE DUMBEST faces in pictures no matter the occasion.

Sometimes I like my eyes and sometimes I think they make me look crazy. Though in this pic, I think it's less my eyes and more my dumb expression that makes me look crazy.

Again, crazy eyes at half mast. I mean, if this is what I think of a "sexy look," then it is NO WONDER that I am single. If I were a man, I'd be scared. And one time, if you and I were ever to get together, I'll have to show you my "signature" attract-a-man move, because every time I show my friends, we all end up hysterically laughing. It's really quite a sight. :)

in my friend's apartment before we left for the bar. in this picture, I am OK with my expression because I think I look diabolically evil, not crazy. and the direction was too look "serious."

normal face. i really look like my grandmother.

i look like a perv.

and even though my nose looks weird, i like this one!

OK 2011, do your best!

A Case of Cabin Fever Brought On By SNO-M-G.

2010-12-27T19:37:00.000-05:00

Get it?! "Snow" + "OMG" = groan-worthy pun!

Aaaannnd! I think I came up with it. I THINK. I haven't seen anyone else use it. It wasn't trending on Twitter like snowpocalypse or snowameggedon were.

So I can still take credit for SNO-M-G and no one can contradict me, unless it's going to turn out to be just like the time I thought I made up the phrase "twatburger" and then proved myself wrong. See, unlike my bank account which I never look at and never know the exact balance of - I just cross my fingers and hold my breath every time I swipe my card - after a Twitter conversation I had with my friend Hendrik, where I bombastically declared that I made it up, I retracted and decided I wasn't just going to assume credit for introducing "twatburger" into our pop culture lexicon* like I am usually wont to do.

Meaning, willfully ignoring any unpleasant evidence to the contrary (i.e. "What do you mean I can't afford this iPad? The fact that my card wasn't declined would seem to contradict you, Sir.") and just saying la-la-la-la-la anytime anyone tries to contradict me. Instead I looked it up on Urban Dictionary like a big girl and apparently "twatburger" is something that people have been using for a while. Who knew?!**

*I do enjoy taking credit for things, like I know FOR A FACT, that I was the first person in my high school not to carry a backpack but to have a messenger bag even though NO ONE BELIEVES ME, but that's just exactly how they treated Joan of Arc, and look at what an impact she had in the history books! You don't remember the names of the people who didn't believe her and that's because those people are just horses. Not talking horses like Mr. Ed, but just the NEIGH-saying kind. Get it? ZZZZING! (I'm on fiyah!)

**You may have noticed that I used the phrase "twatburger" four times (including that last one) and it was done purposefully because my New Year's Resolution for 2011 is to drive all traffic of people googling the phrase "twatburger" (that's five!) to this humble little site of mine.***

***twatburger. (SIX!)

So because of the snow, I've been stuck at my parents' house since Christmas Eve which has been ~~hell on earth~~ a nice way for me to spend time with my family since I'm usually so busy during the week.

I got to have typical family conversations like:

My brother saying: "I wish I had a bigger dashiki" seemingly randomly. (Well, how can that NOT be random?)
My uncle turn to my brother and say over dinner in his heavy Greek accent, "Hey Johnny, call your girlfriend. Tell her she's getting 10 inches tonight."****
My brother, traumatized, whispering to me, "This is worse than the time I came back from college freshman year and he said to me, 'So you finally find out that your d*** is not just for pissing, eh?'"
My sister grab my boob, look over to her husband and say, "Honey, what do you think of these? I mean, they're small, but TOO small?" since she's CRAZY and has been talking about getting a breast reduction for her enormous rack. Which I sincerely doubt she will do, since she just gets things in her head and then forgets about them in a day like a tse-tse fly.

****The snow technically didn't start until the next morning, buuuut I don't think that was the point.

Let's see what else I've done throughout the course of these 4 days:

1) I had one marathon long 2hr+ bath where I started and finished one whole book: On Chesil Beach by Ian McEwan. Which is a really sad love story. Though, aren't all love stories sad ones? I think they have to be if they're any good and memorable, because if not, then they turn into cloying chick lit that no one believes anyway. You know what's really good? His Dark Materials by Philip Pullman. Not part of my SNO-M-G weekend, but I still get chills when I think about that book and its ending.

2) I almost panicked and drove back to my apartment which is about 25 minutes away, because I didn't have any of my Books I Want To Read Next with me, which right now is The Help, which I heard good things about and Emma Stone is starring in the movie version next year. But instead, I looked in my old bookshelves and found 2 books I didn't even know I had. I started and finished All He Ever Wanted by Anita Shreve (didn't care for the story, but how she describes how people feel/think about love is very intelligent) and now am reading Middlesex by Jeffery Eugenidis (fellow Greek, what what!!).

3) I played Just Dance 2 on Wii where my favorite dance is "Crazy In Love" by Beyonce. I was "On Fire!" for 88% of that song, plus hit all three Gold moves!

4) I gave Tre Cool a run for his drumming money on Green Day Rock Band. On actual Christmas, I played regular Rock Band 2 with my nieces (since they GASP hate Green Day) and was appalled at their lack of 90's rock knowledge. All I heard was "I don't know that song," "I don't know that song," and you guessed it, "I don't know that song."

5) I again bested my high score in Fruit Ninja:

I know, I'm like unbelievably good at this game. I think it's because I'm so zen about the whole thing. There is no ninja sword. Just my will.

6) I very unwisely did not ration according the specifications of an impending blizzard. No, nothing to do about saving eggs, milk and bread. Instead, I tore through a stockpile of DVDs at an alarming rate that by 10 PM last night, I had nothing to watch. My parting though re: Step Up 3D? You can't recreate the water dancing scene, self-consciously or not, and expect it to still feel fresh.

7) Baked cupcakes AND a white lasagna with spinach, which was a momentous occasion for me considering that after the 2008 Christmas Potpourri Salmon debacle, I've only baked desserts since no one trusts me to make edible meals. What was the Christmas Potpourri Salmon incident? That was when I tried to follow a Martha Stewart recipe that seemed delicious and easy BUT instead of CHIVES, I reached for CLOVES for some reason I can't figure out, aside from the fact that they both start with the letter C and end in -ves. I mean, when I had to chop the cloves, I don't know why I didn't wonder what the heck, but when it tasted like air freshener that's when my brother realized my mistake that I haven't been able to live down to this day.

8) Then I had the nerdiest conversation with my brother in the same room, just on different couches.

First Part:

Then I insult him, which is just what I do and the price you pay for the privilege of being able to IM me.

Then we do the thing where you guess which character you are. Which I hate playing with my family because they always give me the WORST characters. Whenever we compare ourselves to Lord of the Rings, everyone'e all unanimous in that I'm effin GIMLI.

(I was pretty proud of my S.P.E.W. joke.)

And then my brother continues to insult my ability to get a date, which I don't really care about because AT LEAST I'M HERMIONE!

OK, and now I'm off to brave the elements and get some Starbucks and sleep in my own apartment again. Sn'OH YEAH!

Never Ever EVER Play This At Your Christmas Party

2010-12-23T20:28:00.000-05:00

Have you ever been asked to participated in a Yankee Swap? It goes by other names, but basically, the idea is to buy a cheap gift, bring it to a Christmas party and have people "swap" gifts - i.e. STEAL them from others based on whether or not they got a desirable number.

If you haven't, NEVER do it.

My siblings and I were invited to our Greek friend's annual holiday Christmas party, which I enjoy attending for the sheer pleasure of having an excuse to get dressed up, but since I'm "the most American Greek person ever," I don't really mingle too much at this party since I don't want to talk about techno music, what happened in Astoria last weekend, and what shade of black they dyed their hair, espresso vs. chestnut brown, but you know, like a really dark chestnut brown.

I'm not anti-social. I recently went on an interview where I was described as being a good fit there since I'm "so bubbly, social and easy to talk to." So it's not me. It's THEM. These people are just... not my people.

Have you ever seen 16 Candles? And you know how Long Duck Dong describes the sister's fiance as "an oily bohunk"? That's the typical male at this party. Three buttons undone, chest hair tufting out, gold or silver chains clinging to said chest hair, and hair (if they have any) generously slicked back with mountains of oil.

The women are dressed in black, various shades of it, have high heeled boots on, long black hair, cat eyes or dark smokey eyes, some element of an animal print, be it a leopard bag, shoes or scarf, sparkly jewelry and a pernicious stare that can seer your soul - if you let it.

The hostess called me before the party and asked me to participate in this Yankee Swap, and I really didn't want to, but then the social pressure set in, and I didn't want to show up to the party without a gift and look like either a total cheapskate or a total Scrooge... or both.

I could just picture the sneers, and the mental clucking and the judgment in their eyes if I didn't show up with a gift. "Dropis!" "Krima!" (Shameful!). Or that I think I'm too good.

And whatever, it was a low-investment. $20 bucks or less, and what else would I be doing at this party aside from clinging to the three people in the room I actually LIKE talking to? Oh, and checking my phone?

Once the game got started, I assessed the gifts in a range of how much I wouldn't mind if I got stuck with them:

iTunes Gift Card: HMMM OK

I mean, I have been meaning to listen to the Taylor Swift album (I know, I know) BUT that is SO NOT something I would spend my money on, but now that it is technically free, I could use the gift card on that and then mentally justify it by saying someone GAVE me the album for Christmas if anyone ever asked, which they probably wouldn't but still, I would know and think that.

Fingerless Leather Gloves: MEH

This gift is something I would kind of act really affected by, like ohmygodwhenamigoingtowearthese?! And act all like mock horrified at the very thought, but I would totally wear these unironically in public OR when I clean my apartment and play my de fact Cleaning My Apartment Song, which is Billy Idol's Dancing With Myself, complete with hip jerks, shin kicks and finger snapping. Oh and you know, swiffering. Lots and lots of swiffering. Which also doubles a mic stand!

Box of 30 All Occasion Greeting Cards: WTF?!!?!!

My best friend ended up getting stuck with these. I mean, we're friends, but not THAT good of friends where I'd be willing to swap with her after that stink bomb of a gift. :)

There were other gifts that I made quite the show of saying how nice they were to get other people to focus on those, i.e. making proclamations like:

"Oh my god, that sparkly bracelet is SO nice. It's SO something You would wear!"

"Hey who brought that mug?! I'm going to go get that for myself if I don't end up with it!"

"Movie tickets? Well, you could ALWAYS use movie tickets!"

And then watching, Machiavellian-like as those gifts started getting swapped. Thinking, gosh, people are SO predictable.

I'm thinking, I've got this game, since my sister has chosen #1 out of the bag, meaning at the end, she gets to choose whatever gift she wants. Someone had brought in a $40 MAC gift card (why?!?!) and since I spend an inordinate amount of my paycheck on lip glosses and eye shadows, my sister tells me that she'll give me the gift card if I get this polka dot scarf she has her eye on.

I figure, no problem. I've picked an enviable, if not completely guaranteed to get what I want #15. That means only 5 people will choose after me.

So when it's my turn, I open up a sucky gift, a $15 app store gift card and then say, mentally, no way Jose, and turn to the girl who has the polka dot scarf and take it.

When it's in my hand, I can see why my sister wanted it. It's so nice and soft and the pattern is even cuter and less Dalmation-like up close that I'm almost thinking that I'd keep the scarf. But then I remember that the gift card is worth $40 bucks and this scarf if just $15 bucks TOPS, so that would just be mathematically stupid of me.

Then the unthinkable happens.

It's #19's turn and she takes my fucking scarf!

I feel like, yes, I get it, those are the rules of a Yankee Swap. You can't take this personally. But I just think there is this unwritten rule that you can swap with someone you know, but when you're taking a gift out of stranger's hand, and I had never seen #19 before, I think you're crossing a line. ESPECIALLY when it turns out that #19 is not even a friend that the hostess knows but a new girlfriend of one of the oily bohunks!!

And yes, I found this out 5 days after the party, because YES, I am STILL on it, because I have not gotten over her egregious display of socially permitted personal vandalism.

And why was I so morally outraged by her theft? Because I know what I've tried to describe to several men but they do not seem to understand, but this is something that girls seem to get.

I'm outraged because I know, I KNOW that she didn't really want the scarf. That if she had passed the scarf in a store, she would never have chosen it. Moreover, that if I hadn't chosen it, she probably would've gone for another gift entirely.

It was so not her style. I'm looking at her and thinking, why wouldn't you have gone for the fucking cheetah print scarf? Or the zebra one?! THAT is your style. You don't even want a polka dot scarf, it doesn't match with your gold coin medallion necklace!

PLUS you can't even call me a hypocrite, because the girl I took the scarf from didn't even want it! Her sister had brought it, and she was non-impressed by it, and she had her eye on the $20 worth of scratch-off lottery tickets. (I know, ghet-to!)

But this bitch KNEW how much I wanted this scarf.

While I was handing it over, I must've looked devastated because someone actually said, "Oh my God, look how sad she looks. Just let her keep it!" And the bitch STILL took it!

I thought it was cute when one of my friends said, "Whoever you get married to better learn to steel himself against that puppy dog face because now I want to go out and buy you 10 of those scarves."

And all I could think was NO! I don't want ten of those scarves! I want that one that that bitch has now dramatically and possessively draped across her shoulders like she fucking owns it. Which FINE, technically she does, but STILL. Show some decorum, especially since you know how much I wanted it and you stole it from me, and now I wouldn't even want it anyway since it has your stink all over it.

The stink of a trash bag.

The strangest part was, initially I didn't even want that scarf, I wanted it for my sister Val. But then I felt like those parents must feel when the last Furby or Wii console or Cabbage Patch Doll or whatever is snatched out of their hands, and it's like you feel like you let your loved one down, and then as I was ranting and raving about "that fucking cunt" all the way home, I ended up feeling less altruistic about it, and started envisioning outfits that I myself would wear with it, and before you know it, I wanted that effin scarf.

I mean, the only reason, the ONLY reason she wanted that scarf in the first place was because she saw that someone ELSE wanted it. My sister didn't exactly agree that she did it ON PURPOSE because I was clearly prettier than her and she was obviously jealous of me, and it's not MY fault God made me look like this and her to look like an evil witch... but I mean, if that's not the reason she did it, then why else?? Why else would she have done it?!

In conclusion, never participate in a Yankee Swap.

If you do, you'll end up driving 35 minutes out of the way to an obscure boutique of hand-made wares just to buy a polka dotted scarf that you probably didn't even know you wanted in the first place. Just because other people are jealous and envious and mean-spirited.

God, girls can be so crazy sometimes.

I Would Be Friends With Me. I Think. (Part 2)

2010-12-19T00:08:00.001-05:00

So lately, as I mentioned in my previous post, a lot of my friends has been asking me for love life advice. And while I take any consult for my opinion as confirmation that I am, indeed, the wisest and kindest person amongst my circle of friends, I really, really don't know why they ask me.*

For example, the following example should show you why exactly I have no business giving anyone dating advice. I was driving in the car the other day with 2 of my friends whom I've known just about forever. And while that's always guaranteed to be a fun time, inevitably you're going to start reminiscing about the past - and someone will bring up the embarrassing stories you wish everyone had forgotten.

Friend: So you ever run into [The Guy Whose Dog You Ended Up Spending More Time With Than You Ever Did With Him]?

Me: Nah. He's randomly been emailing and texting, begging to meet up, but for the most part, I've just ignored it.

Friend: You? Ignoring a text or email? Whoa. Look at the new and grown-up Maria.

::after a pause::

Friend: (laughing) Do you remember the year you guys got into a fight right before the holidays? And how you decided to send a Christmas card and only address it to the dog?

(We all start hysterically laughing. I was very embarrassed and probably laughing the loudest as it brought back my thought process that lead me to send the card to his dog. I wanted to show him I was mad at him and not talking to him while proving that I liked the dog better than him. And then my friend had to remind me exactly what I WAS thinking.)

Friend: "Dear Rusty. Merry Christmas. Love, Maria." Hahahah! Yeah, that'll show him!!!

I know, I know. I'm so pathetically cute. And such a dingbat. And that's not even half the pathetic lengths I've gone to with guys. I mean, some of it's funny, and some of it I even realize is funny at the time... I just hate being mad at people or in a fight and it makes me act wacky.

*I think the real reason people ask me about love life advice is not because they think I have any stunning insight. I think it's because people just love talking about these kinds of things and getting a million different people's opinions on What They Should Do and What Do You Think S/He Meant When S/He Said/Did That so then they can analyze at length and still think what they thought in the first place anyway.

There are certain "game-playing" aspects to dating that everyone does, whether they say they play games or not. We all play a little hard to get, we all make people wonder, at various points in the dating stage, what we're really thinking/feeling, but what I don't do is pretend to like people if I don't. The worst I can be accused of is the following:

The blur is just my friend "Esteban."

A guy at work recently asked me to dinner. I didn't want to go. This was the first in a series of 3 dates from 3 different guys I was asked on that I declined. And everyone yelled at me, because they think I'm "too picky" and that "you have to give people a chance" and "why not just go out and get taken to dinner" and "what's the worst that can happen?" "Who knows, he could turn into a really good friend."

To which I always say, "No thanks. Not interested in spending 3 hours with a guy I'm not attracted to when there's a running list of TV shows in my DVR queue that are not going to watch themselves."

Maybe that's bitchy. Maybe that's why I'm single. Maybe that's why I'll end up alone forever. But I don't want to learn to love someone. I don't want to settle. I don't want to be put in a situation where I feel pressured to go out with someone because I feel too bad to say no or obligated to continue seeing them because I don't want to let them down or have "no good reason" not to date them.

I have a lot of friends, and a lot of male friends. I have enough friends. And I know what you're thinking!! Yes, I'm going to be alone forever.

Anyway! Speaking of my male friends, my friend Matt is currently obsessed with this girl. It's like all he talks about, and while it was kind of cute and endearing at first, now it's gotten quite annoying. The girl of his affection recently broke up with her boyfriend, so he's been getting advice NOT to say anything to soon because she's probably still heartbroken and not ready to date. So Matt's been trying to be patient, but he's getting antsy.

So he sends me this message he wants to send her on Facebook, carefully written to show how quirky and eccentric he is.

So I felt bad for laughing, and then I explained to him, that I would get it, if I were to get him from him, but she doesn't know him as well as I do so the reaction could be that she finds it off-putting. OR that she could see that he's clearly joking, but because most girls tend to be really insecure about these things, she might not have anything to really respond to, as it seems like a joke, so she might question if he is actually asking her out.

Good advice right?! So I told him to revise it to FIX THE SPELLING OF MORTAL KOMBAT FOR CRISSAKES, and then say something about, no really, I'd love to watch a movie or get dinner or something one night or something serious and direct.

I know. I give advice while working out. That is called being the best kind of friend you would ever want.

So, he finally worked up the balls to ask her out, and she agreed. Meaning, I was right, that grace periods post-breakups are just what girls/guys say to people they're not interested in, so it's best to ask anyway since you shouldn't waste your time on someone who is going to say yes today or six months from now.

When he told me the day after they hung out, what they watched, however, I could only shake my head. But I also realized that I really do give great advice, even if I don't always follow it myself. Or at least, when I do follow my go-for-it advice, it's never really worked out in my favor, but I wasn't lying when I said I don't regret the things I've done. And when I can decline a dinner date and not regret What Might Have Been, then I know that I made the right decision.

Oh, and what movie did Matt and his girl watch? The Human Centipede. What an idiot.