My brother is currently reading a map of Germany to me.  Way too much fun to handle.  We’re waiting to go to the airport to take off to sunny Miami (with a connecting flight in Atlanta– 1. I hate layovers.  2. I have never been to Atlanta and was all YOU’RE SO WRONG when NPH told me that’s most likely where we’d be connecting so now I owe him like a quarter or something.)

I’m not a huge candy bar/ chocolate fan, but if I had to choose, Twix bars are pretty boss.  I had a slight obsession with them as a child.  This may or may not have been a factor in my moderate childhood obesity.

OH so after the shiteous time I had in the theater watching It’s Complicated, Papa K and T-Bone took me out to a boss fancy dinner AND a movie the next night (yes, it really is great to be me.)  We saw Up in the Air which I liked about a bajillion times better.  It was visually clean, the story made sense, the whole message was you need a partner in life because “Think of your favorite memories– were you alone?”  My parents weren’t exactly as big of fans as I was.  Dad said he knew people who would legitimately leave the theater and straight up want to kill themselves.  I suppose for people who’ve spent their lives trying to find a “copilot” (the movie was about flying?  Life partner = copilot?  GET IT?!)  or had one then lost them it would be a mondo sobfest.  But for moi, a strapping young buck in the prime of her youth, I thought it was very inspirational like YEA!  Life partner!  I’m gonna go out and find my lifemate.  Also, George Clooney is increasingly hotter as he gets older.  That blonde chick from The Departed is in it who I’m sorry but is not that attractive.  Also, the really funny guy from The Hangover is in it for like two minutes in the beginning.  So TWO THUMBS UP from this one.

Also, at dinner beforehand, I had creme brulee for dessert.  Holy tummyache-inducing awesomeness.  I’ve had it once before, I believe the term I coined was “dessert mayonnaise.”  (I don’t even like mayo, it’s just a delicious creamy white consistency… upon further thought, I’m going to change the subject now.)

Collectively as a family we’re hoping there is a Waffle House near our hotel tomorrow morning.

Nine days.  I’d sell my soul to be there now.

We’re flying out earlier than expected for our cruise tomorrow.  Miami will be nice.  I will have no connection with the world (Facebook, blogging, cell phone) for like, a lot of days.  And then only one full day in between flying back and flying out for Germany.  My room is beyond a wreck (not on purpose, contrary to apparent popular belief) with boxes, clothes, suitcases, lots more clothes, Christmas gifts.  It’ll be weird celebrating New Years on a ship with strangers and my family.  Hopefully there will at least be champagne.

I got new glasses today.  And my digital camera from Christmas finally came (thanks, Grandma!)  There’s nothing really great to put up pictures of yet, but you can bet there’s much bigger excitment to come.  That’s all for today, folks.  I will spare you my shit-tastic mood.

Somewhere in my house is my wallet with credit cards, multiple forms of real and fake identification, some loyalty punch cards, perhaps a stray HyVee Chinese fortune.  Unfortunately, I have no idea where in the house it is, and it’s KIND OF something I’ll be needing very soon.  Like to board an airplane.  No big deal or anything.

Mom, Savannah, and I went to see It’s Complicated today because who doesn’t love Meryl Streep (or even Alec Baldwin.  I want to hate him because he seems like such an ass in real life but WHO CARES because he’s in The Departed and him saying “Paaaaatriot Act!!!” is one of me and NPH’s favorite movie lines of all time.)  Well let me tell you– if you are one of the few 40 year old and over readers, close out of this screen right now and run small children and animals down in your frenzy to get to the movie theater.  If you are anywhere near college age or just generally don’t want to even think about what it must be like for your parents or professors to be together between the sheets DO NOT SEE THIS MOVIE.  So much old people sex.  So much fleshy Alec Baldwin.  So much divorcee humor.  So much kettle corn inhaling (oh wait, that was just me.  And Savannah– I’ll throw her under this bus, too.)

After the movie we returned THE raincoat from Christmas and got a super classy charcoal gray/black coat that I LOVE and fits like a glove and was on super sale and it just awesome.  I look so damn sophisticated in it, no small feat mind you.  Props to Mom and Savannah for putting up with my in-store antics, too much kettle corn will do that to a person (my inner five-year-old also followed us to the parking lot where I drew a swastika and male genitalia on the undefrosted windows of my mother’s vehicle.  She was not super pleased with my behavior.  OOPS.)

THEN Savannah and I were all “Wow.  Way too much fun for one night.  Let’s head into the GREAT METROPOLIS of Adel, Iowa to see what shenanigans await us.”  And do you know what we did?  Not a goddamn thing.  I hate this town.  So lame.  Nay, it’s a quaint town, methinks it’s the people in it who really just make me contemplate how much slitting my wrists would actually hurt (again, if you are a mandatory reporter– step down, apparently making slight suicide references is just a phase I’m in.)  To give you a hint, the most entertaining interactions we had were in the Kum ‘n Go parking lot which is actually a step up from our normal meeting place, the Subway parking lot.

Tomorrow we’re going to church, only this time there probably won’t be a REAL BABY playing my savior so it’ll be kinda way more lame than last time.  Today I got ALL PACKED for the cruise so tomorrow will be more packing for Germany/ tearing the house apart in search of my wallet/ trying to figure out how to get a working laptop to Germany without actually spending any money (my father says I can’t afford to pay attention, let alone buy a new one.  Excellent.  Apparently personal finances really aren’t my thing.)

I painted my fingernails today (bright pink) AND toenails (silver sparkles.)  No need to tell me how excited you are this new nugget of information.

“When are you due?”

“Excuse me?”

“Aren’t you pregnant?  You must be having triplets or something, at least eight months along I’d guess.”

“Nope.  Just a food baby.  A pretty epic Christmas indeed.”

And THAT’S how I imagine a random conversation going in the grocery store tomorrow should I find the motivation or ability to get up from the prone position I’ve just kind of fallen into. 

SO.MANY.THINGS. happened today:

1.) My father noticed the um, crack in my laptop that’s been hanging out on the right hinge of the screen for like, I don’t know… a month or so?  Or three?  It was way worse and I kind of just popped it back in place (yep, he’s not thrilled.  I am a dumbass.)  He asked what my genius self planned to do if the screen decided to just crap out on my one day, perhaps when I’m say, ohhhh THOUSANDS OF MILES AWAY FROM HOME.  And I said “Uhh… Internet cafe?”  Wrong answer.  So now I get to decide whether to take my chances with this slightly handicapped Dell OR use some of my Christmas money to buy a new one.  I’m no math wizard, but the voices of reason in my life are gunning for me to get a new one to ensure (insure?) my sanity while abroad.  This option does not work well with my natural frugalness (parents, do NOT laugh– just because I can spend money like a drunken sailor at a strip club doesn’t mean this is something I want to spend said money on.)

2.) That guy tried to blow up that plane while landing in Detroit.  Normally, I don’t give two shits about things in the world not directly affecting me (I know, how mature of me) but this DOES alter my life, don’t you see?!?!  We fly out on Tuesday for Miami and sure as shit the FAA has already been all “We’re stepping up airport securtiy” AGAIN.  Even though everyone knows that if some guy on the news gets busted for sneaking bombs on in his shoes, the LAST TIME you’d want to repeat said manuever would be directly following said criminal activity.  Because that’s the first place they’re gonna look.  This is not rocket scientist, it is simply a childhood of a few too many Saturday morning cartoons.

3.) AND THIS IS A BIG ONE: So my friend Lauren (@laurensieben for all you Twitter freaks) was all “Yo Brittney, your blog is rad, we’re both studying abroad, let’s be rad together.”  So she and I now have a NEW BLOG that is devoted to our adventures in Europe.  (It is conveniently listed in the blogroll to your right!)  We have a lot in common–journalism majors, severe sarcasm, the wish to one day not be stuck busing tables forever, the ability to make at least two people outside of our families chuckle with our writing.  She’ll be in Spain, I’ll be in Germany.  Props to Papa K for getting creative with the doman name (Iowa Girls Gone Wild…hehe– we have no moral objections to our target audience being misguided perverts) and getting it all set up.

BUT WAIT, BRITTNEY– what does that mean for this little gem of a site?!?!  Never fear, you all know I’m much too self-serving to let my little Brittney Has Something To Say (dot com!  T-shirts available soon!) go by the wayside.  Perhaps when I’m lazy I’ll copy/paste the same post on both blogs.  There will certainly not be fresh content on both every day, or even every other– I plan on actually experiencing Europe and then perhaps filling in the details for you as an afterthought.  I haven’t actually thought that far ahead.  My main concern at the moment is what to wear home tomorrow since I’m quite certain I didn’t pack any muumuu’s big enough to cover this post-holiday girth.

Ohhh and I forget to tell you the absolute best part of today:

4.) I’m learning how to look into the webcam while Skyping instead of using it as a mirror.  Baby steps, people– baby steps.

And now, for your Christmas entertainment, some photos from gift opening:

THE raincoat

Alright.  I had the package in hand, my grandmother prefaced the opening with “You’ll either love this or you’ll hate this.”  I guess when my first reaction after seeing it was, “What the fu–??!” it was a no go.  But at least it provided us quite a few laughs.  It’s the thought that counts, right?  And I have the gift receipt to pick out a raincoat I can wear overseas that wouldn’t look like a walking acid trip.

Christmas morning

Yep.  That’s my general expression even in the face of Santa.  But I LOVE that scarf.  Notice my new socks (thanks, T-Bone.)  That’s my uncle to the right, Big Ben on the left.  How FREAKIN excited are you that I have a camera now– you’re gonna be sucked into my day-to-day hehe.

Pensive

Scared! Lost! Help!

The cutest of all

Okay, sorry.  This was hopefully a one time thing.  Completely narcissistic, I realize.  100% self-serving.   IT’S TIME FOR CHRISTMAS DINNER.

Let’s talk about some of the things I got for Christmas:

– lots of clothes (that I picked out in advance!  And I wanted!  And that fit!  We’re making progress!)  Boots and gloves and scarves so that I won’t actually freeze to death, and sweaters that make me look like a girl, and an official Iowa tailgating t-shirt AND a t-shirt with lobstahs on it that are all speaking in Bahhhhstan accents.  “Pahk the cah!”

–money, in US dollars and Euros (because, if you’re keeping count, I’m 13 days away)

–a digital camera (you, dear reader, should be most psyched about this, suddenly you’ll be getting pics of EVERYTHINGINMYLIFE.) I will try my darndest to not get this one stolen/drop it/ lose it/spill on it… I don’t exactly have the best track record with these things.  Or with cell phones.  Oops.

–And finally, my beloved webcam to Skype everyone whilst abroad.  I’ve also discovered that it takes nothing more to keep me occupied for hours than to watch myself make faces via webcam.  While Skyping NPH last night, I spent more time looking at myself and playing with my hair than paying attention to what he was saying.  Sorry, buddy.

So uhhh MERRY CHRISTMAS– Grandma and T-Bone are currently making enough food for about 30 people even though there are only eight of us for dinner this year.  Last night we did the whole Christmas Eve church thing and there was a REAL BABY playing Jesus.  They passed out candles to light and hold while singing, but they passed em out way too early and the entire congregation was fixated on playing with their candle, trying to melt the plastic protect-y cup it was in, burn their neighbor with wax, send smoke signals up to the Big Man himself… oh wait, maybe that was just me.  Perhaps this is why Kayla says I am like a small child.  No apologies here–  if you give me flame, all other things go by the wayside, unless there’s a REAL BABY playing Jesus in the room, and then my mind is just blown.

Oh, I also got Iowa Hawkeyes barbecue sauce in my stocking.  BE JEALOUS.

A week from today will be 2010!!  Aka, I’ll be waking up with a wicked hangovah next to a hottie somewhere in the Carribbean.  Yesterday I got pretty freakin’ excited for our cruise.  Still not sure which genius planned a tropical vacation right after the calorie-fest of Christmas, but whatever (haha Dad– I kid.)  I’m sure this will be leagues better than last New Year’s Eve which involved a lot of Britney Spears music, a short-lived trip to Union and a rugby player (okay, so last years was actually fabulously boss.  What can I say– it’s terribly hard to live my life.)

Methinks I’m going to go help more in the kitchen now– I’ve already peeled a bunch of parsnips and chopped an onion and eaten a bunch of food done some dishes.  Happy Freakin’ Holidays!!

Merry Christmas, senate healthcare bill– you passed!  (I only know one person actually happy about that.  In the spirit of the holidays, we won’t discuss politics…)

Papa K and I went to Walmart last night to I don’t know, grab some soda and get out of the house and just generally drive erractically on the roads because he has a Hummer and he can.  TONIGHT is the big night around here– we open presents from the family tonight (and hoooo baby do we get a motherload) and then tomorrow morning we open gifts from Santa.  Who is real.  We will eat Way Too Freakin’ Big (but delicious) Dinner 3 of 4 after going to church and then it’s go time.  I’ll be super dressed up, lookin’ sexy fly, not quite sure why my grandparents don’t attend a church with a much larger 18-25 year old male demographic but WHATEVER.

It’s Christmas Eve, peeps– I’ve got gifts to wrap (not mine, HA as if I have the funds to give anything more than re-gifted dust catchers I found while moving out.)  GET OFFLINE and go hang out with your families.  Give em a hug.  Sing a song.  Pour yourself a drink.

Day: I’ve lost count.  Mood: get my happy ass on a plane PRONTO.

We made it over the river and through the woods to Grandma’s in time for a dinner of CORNISH GAME HENS last night.  You know, the mini chickens that royalty ate a lot in the time of castles and kings and moats and arranged marriages?  Needless to say, I was quite excited.  Apparently one is to eat these with a fork and knife, cut meat, eat it, repeat– you know, like a regular meal.  I however took this new culinary delight as an excuse to go balls to the wall and tear this beast apart with my hands, silverware, ice pick; really anything to get to the deeeelish stuffing inside.  Unfortunately my grandparents had not only the neighbors over as dinner guests but also their pastor and wife.  None of the newbies talked to me much, just kind of politely nodded as my mother explained that she tried her damndest to raise me as a lady, but something malfunctioned along the way and I can now burp louder than NPH and sit as though straddling a cruise ship.  My bad.

We’ve been drinking bloody mary’s since about noon, putting together another God-forsaken puzzle a la Thanksgiving.  Finally about  three hours and only 10 pieces in we looked at each other and said, “WHY do we do this again?!” And no one could come up with a valid reason so just said Fuck It.  (Correction: my grandmother did not say “fuck” anything.  I am the only one who curses like a sailor.  This is a bad habit I should at some point address.  One time at my job  over the summer the most stonerish, strung out, greased up, dropped out kid I worked with turned to me and goes, “You swear more than anyone I know.”  SORRY.  I will now try to weave “frick” into my vernacular for the new year.)

My grandfather is now trying to pass my grandmother a chocolate covered cherry via his mouth.  You may be barfing, but really, I was thinking about this today: they are an excellent example of keeping the spark alive.  These two touch lips more than any over-20 couple I know.  He says he’s going out to the store, she tells him how much she’ll miss him while he’s gone and then they do some slightly stomach-turning PDA in front of the grandchildren.  When I’m their age (which is still really quite young) I only hope to be half as in love with my significant other as these two are.  It probably helps that they spend three months of every year in Hawaii, doing nothing but I don’t even wanna know in a condo on the beach– I know I’d be more pleasant to those around me if my happy ass was soaking up the sun in the dead of winter.

OH GUESS WHAT my grades came in today.  As always, I am an academic rockstar.  This whole college thing really isn’t as hard as it’s cracked up to be, or at least most of the time I’m too not sober to care.  Today one of my loyal readers told me my blog would make an excellent movie.  Well DUH.  Who would play me?  Me, of course.  Or maybe Lindsay Lohan.  I love her.  While the rest of America has given up on her, I’m still gunning for a comeback that would put Britney to shame (don’t even get me started on her– while I love her, that “comeback” is nothing more than the most contrived, puppeteered, record some whiny cat-sounding sounds over a too-heavy dance beat and call it a hit media circus bullshit to happen since the first time she had a Number One.  BUT I DIGRESS.)

Happy birthday to my aunt, Sheila– should she be reading.

Happy Christmas, kiddos– I’m off to PLAY MONOPOLY with my family, how FREAKING jealous of me are you?  Ooooh I’m sure there’s Christmas cookies somewhere.  Perhaps if I disappear to the “garage” to get “Monopoly pieces” and I come back covered in crumbs they won’t suspect anything…

If you’ve had the sheer pleasure of knowing me in person, you are aware that I am not what one could call a fashionista, trend-spotter, or person who generally gives a shit what she looks like 80% of the time.  You might imagine my surprise then, as I mentioned yesterday, at the amount of SHIT I OWN TO WEAR.  Well today has been dedicated to sorting through this absolute mess of material, and might I say, I’ve been quite productive so far.

A good third of my closet is in a pile waiting to go to Goodwill, be burned, made into clothes for the dog– I really don’t care.  I’m quite the jeans & t-shirts kind of gal, and most of these shirts are from volunteer activities I’ve done.  Because I’m such an outstanding citizen.  And have such a personal commitment to my fellow man.  Anyway…

Another unfortunate discovery I’ve made (I’m like Jacques freakin’ Cousteau up there) is where a large portion of my income has gone in the past four-ish years (you know, besides the drugs and alcohol and paying NPH to be my best friend.) A magical yet Satanic store that sucks you in with all the PRETTY, sparkly things (Gisele & Heidi certainly don’t hurt their cause) and then wa-BAM hundreds of dollars later you’re having to decide between rent or groceries: Victoria’s Secret.  I’m just going to give it straight to you here, dear reader: I have 75 pairs of underwear.  Yep.  At one time I had more, but I usually lose one or two a month when they’re ripped to shreds in the heat of a Saturday night post-bar close heavy petting session.

(Is she kidding?  Is she not kidding?  That was pretty inappropriate.  I wonder what kind of a mother raises someone who says those things.  Who even uses the phrase ”heavy petting”?  That was just gross.  I might stop reading her blog altogether now…. Though she was probably kidding.  I’ve seen her at a bar in the wee hours of the morning– there’s no way that face and those dance moves could lure anyone back to her apartment.)

ANYWAY– so my point is, Victoria’s Secret should cut me a check for the hundreds of dollars of revenue I’ve pumped into their brightly-lit smelly-good stores.  I’ve made pretty good headway separating clothes into piles for the cruise, going to Grandma’s for Christmas, and even some for Germany.  Unfortunately somewhere along the way I got distracted and started trying on my old prom dresses (those bitches still fit HELLSYES.  Obviously this is permission to drink more) and then just generally dancing about my room to ridiculous music I never knew was on my iPod.  So as I said, super productive morning.

You may be wondering how tea went last night.  It was fine.  I’m not supposed to talk about the things I may or may not have seen or heard or been a part of.  I will give Melissa a shout-out though (a loyal reader)– she was there, and asked about NPH, and told me that she just knows he and I are soulmates so almost got punched in the face, but that would have just really brought down the mood of the gathering.  Props to Michelle for letting us shovel food feeding Kayla and I.

In three lovely hours (hopefully more packing, less eating and Family Guy) T-Bone will be driving the brother and I up to Grandma’s house to start the ol’ holiday festivities.  HOPEFULLY (hint hint) we get to open a present early and I just happen to pick a box that’s Webcam shaped and ohmygosh I’m totally surprised I totally forgot asking for a Webcam oh wait now I’m SO PSYCHED because I can Skype all my friends back in IC.  I mean that’s just, you know, something that could happen that I’d be okay with happening.

Day two = poo!

Sorry for the childish rhyme, had to get it out.

WHERE did I get so many clothes?!  The amount of shirts, jeans, dresses, skirts, shoes,  belts (<– hehe I do own some, never wear them, sorry to those of you who have been casualties of that one) is beyond ridiculous.  And if you asked me right now, of COURSE I need new clothes.  I don’t wear most of what I have, and while I often go through my closet to give stuff away, I tend to keep a lot of things for hypothetical situations that happen at most twice a year (i.e. intense cardio, high class afternoon tea with government officials, job shadowing an auto mechanic.) It is ALL currently dumped on the floor in my room (and has spilled into the hallway) and I have no plans of organizing anything before I leave (I bet you $1,000,000.50 that my mother just read that and shouted at my somewhere in the house something about ‘Get your ASS upstairs and hang up that stuff.  I’m not going through it when you’re gone.’).  There will be two piles: cruise, Germany.  Luckily I’m much more prepared for the cruise since all of my “going out” clothes for IC don’t involve much material, I have zero idea how much/what I should be packing for Europe.  I plan on just wearing my 713 shirt day in and out until people stop trying to befriend me and start whispering behind my back about “the smelly American who bursts into tears at the mention of bratwurst or Miley Cyrus.”  I’m really planning on making quite the international reputation for myself.

DO.YOU.KNOW. where I’m going tonight?  Wine Tea.  Not just any tea, THE TEA my mother attends every Monday night with a handful of friends.  They only call it “tea” because, I don’t know, they don’t want everyone to know there’s anything BUT tea flowing, and that the conversations are much more tame than “I’m going to smack my child <insert name> because they are such a <insert deragatory adjective> and while I’m at it, so is <insert name of significant other.>” (Haaa, I kid… kind of.)  My brother calls it the DMC — Drunken Mother’s Club– but that’s not very nice.  I suppose what they’re doing is no different than what NPH and I do on a nightly regular basis, or why Lauren and I get together usually once a week and bitch about our lives and our lack of male attention and ever-increasing waistlines.  ANYWAY– I’m pretty pscyhed for this because 1.) I freakin’ love those ladies.  They are bat shit crazy, in the nicest way possible.  2.) I will be getting out of this house.  3.) They will be all “Oooh fresh meat” and ask me questions about myself– and I hope you’ve all realized by now, I’m my number one favorite topic– that will probably center around “WHO is this Neil kid and WHEN are you getting married?!?!?!”  And then I will calmly answer, “Never” and then text him “It’s happening again” and then he’ll offer to drive to Adel and run me down with his car to prove to the world that, in fact, we have ne’er seen each other naked.

Well now that I’ve completely forgotten any thesis I may have been trying to conclude upon, I will leave you and go FIND KAYLA since apparently she’s DIED en route or doesn’t realize this is our ONE DAY to hang out before I LEAVE possibly FOREVER.  Or until May, whichever comes first.