I’ve never been an avid viewer of Discovery Channel specials or Animal Planet, but today I got my first real look at what I imagine those documentaries on life in the wild are all about. Our campus’ fall job and internship fair was held today, and I luckily made it out alive with only three major blows to the ego and a few flesh wounds I was able to lick silently in the corner of the Student Hospitality Suite (aka free water and brownies.) Perhaps we were being secretly filmed the whole time because really, the entire premise sounds like it’s ready for a C-list celebrity host and prime time slot on Bravo. Picture half a generation of Millenial students who were raised to think they could be anything only to be barraged with unemployment statistics for the past three years, give ‘em one semester before the real world, outfit them in their most uncomfortable, itchy attire “I haven’t been this dressed up since I was at my grandma’s funeral” (actual quote by Natalie) with little black binders full of freshly printed and bullshitted resumes, stuff ‘em in a sweltering ballroom full of potential employers and GO. As you may imagine, it’s not a pretty scene. Roommates turned on roommates. People you’ve shared classes with for four years were suddenly waiting at your back with a butcher knife should you deliver the better elevator pitch. The stench of hungry, angry desperation clung in the air while undergrads gnashed and clawed their way to recruiting tables… only to be told to apply online or that they simply had no use yet for students graduating in May. Welcome to the working world, seniors– do you like your first taste?
To be fair, there were at least two places I wouldn’t mind working at who also didn’t seem generally annoyed with my presence. One even asked for my resume (after I learned that shoving it in the face of the recruiter right after the introductory handshake was perhaps not the way to go…) Thankfully Natalie and I had entered the front lines together, thus were able to wrench ourselves from the trenches in semi-decent shape and remind each other We don’t need silly job fairs because we’re obviously more fabulous than everyone else and they will be seeking us out in due time. That was a lot of italics. And a lot of BS. But it sure does make me feel better.

Day Six: Five people who mean a lot (in no order)
…well this should be interesting.
5. Well I suppose I should say my parents. Sorry, you don’t get separate listings.
4. Kayla and Savannah– you don’t get separate listings either. You shall be known from here on out as “the high school besties” or perhaps “the bitches who have put up with me the longest.”
3. 713. I guess no one’s getting separate listings today. And yes, I’m including NPH in this– you’re all my boyfriends.
2. Roomie Lauren & Roomie Rachael. By the time we reach May, well– we’ll probably be both glad and sad that it’s May.
1. Jesus.

So there’s this part about studying abroad that no one ever tells you about. The part where you’re walking to class and suddenly have this vivid, I don’t know, vision of Germany. An incredibly detailed, real-life flashback of sorts to a particular part of town or campus that had long ago been filed into the deep recesses of your brain. “That was cool,” you think, and perhaps you dwell and reminisce, but let’s face it– you can’t spend too much time browsing Expedia for discounted Oktoberfest flights because you’re back in your full time life you have to live. But then maybe it’s because you work in the study abroad office, or maybe because you’ve been recently chatting with your friends who were also in your program; either way, it starts to become more than just That One Time I Studied Abroad. (Beware: shit’s about to get real up ahead.) It eventually becomes you trying to go to sleep at the end of a gloomy, but otherwise uneventful day, but you can’t because your brain’s stuck on a million things, but mostly just how damn much you miss the whole thing. MAYBE you start crying (and then seriously question your mental state.) You rationally acknowledge that this is probably because you found freedoms and independence while living abroad that you’re still grappling with over here. That maybe you’re scared you’re a senior and that was your last time to really live it up before the 9-5 grind of adult life really sets in. But maybe you just really miss your neighbors and the stuffy old ladies on the bus and how your nasty, mildewy hallway smelled, and how the kitchen floor creaked every time someone opened the refrigerator. Maybe you’re mad that your handle on the German language is quickly escaping you and that people want to see you so often when Don’t you know you already lived without me for four months?
If nothing else, I can be thankful I only went for one semester because apparently I would have found a roof or bridge a long time ago if I’d devoted a whole year of my life to loving up on Luneburg (if you couldn’t tell, the above diatribe was about me. I know– you were completely fooled.) Honestly, I don’t know where this has all come from, and I’m sure you’re reading, thinking, “Just get the hell over it,” because mathematically, I’ve now been home the same amount of time I was gone. No, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I wouldn’t even really mind all this nostalgia save for the fact it’s just made me plum sad. I’m sure I’ve been just a peach to be around (hey– two fruit references in two sentences!) and this doesn’t even include all the other stuff that keeps me up at night, i.e. how much I despise my classes, if I’m doing enough for my jobs, how one even goes about starting the job hunt process, heartburn, the goddamn train I live next to.
…and if you’ve made it to the end, you deserve a gold star and possibly a shot.

Day Five: Six things you wish you’d never done/ had done
… well now this is just entering dangerous territory. Can I just say “senior year of high school” as the blanket answer? Fine. Let’s get detailed.

6. I wish I would have studied abroad earlier. A girl in our office has done FIVE, count it 5 times. I’ll be lucky if I make it to two.
4. At one time– and I no longer feel this way, but at one time I wished it so much it deserves mentioning– I wished I’d gone to Wartburg College. Or least explored private colleges more extensively than just picking Iowa.
3. I wish I never tried Pretzel M&Ms because my life is forever altered because of it. (Are you keeping count of how many times I mention them on the blog? Perhaps there will be a prize at the end…)
2. I wish I lived closer to D-Bag, because you don’t make best friends with someone and then just be separated forever.
1. I wish I had a basset hound puppy named Fergus Jackson. THERE– that’s his name. And I want him NOW!!

The Vine. My favorite place in all of Iowa City, not only because it has a four-hour long happy hour daily, or because it often has $1 domestic pint night, or even because it is conveniently (dangerously?) one block from my apartment. I can’t pick out just one reason, but perhaps the events of last night will give you a glimpse as to why it’s earned my unconditional love…
I was having a less than stellar day, and bless Natalie’s heart, she texted me just as I was getting out of class: “Vine?” Of COURSE. That lucky bitch lives directly across the street from it, so she could literally tuck ‘n roll out of her front door and land belly up at the bar. Me, I have to walk approximately 1.5 minutes and cross two streets. Burns more calories, I guess. We met, sat down, Shiner Bock for me, Boulevard Wheat for her. Drinking and laughter ensued, said hi to some friends (because I only associate with people who also frequent bars on Monday nights) and then, the inevitable. The Cheese Fry Dilemma. Usually my roommates and I put in our order of piping hot, Colby-Jack covered fried potatoes immediately with our drink order, but Dubs and I have a separate ritual that involves splitting an order of boneless Maple BBQ wings. While this may or may not have already happened, an unfinished order of wings (just weren’t hitting the spot) does not a meal make. Also of note, I’ve had a ridiculous tomato-based-sauces craving lately that can’t seem to be satiated with any amount of ketchup or pizza sauce or actual tomatoes. Thus I finally put the phrase out there, those two dangerous but delectable words: “Cheese fries?” And because I only associate with the coolest of cats, Natalie responded with the requisite “Of course!” Now, cheese fries are kind of a commitment. This is not a Happy Meal portion of fries with a bit o’ greasy topping– this is a full on NEST of food that quite frankly can’t be consumed by two people. And if you’ve ever tried boxing up and reheating them later, well you’re just high.
Enter: the booth of gentlemen sitting behind Natalie. I’d seen these guys come in, they were around the age of 27, nursing beers and wings and… cheese fries. They had clearly been pushed to the side of the table, but only perhaps half the plate was eaten. I think you can see where this is going, and I can’t tell if I’m either really proud or really ashamed of what happened next.
Brittney: “They have cheese fries.”
Natalie (not at all masking the fact she’s now staring at their half-eaten app): “They have bacon on them.”
Brittney: “I’ve never had them with bacon…” (because let’s be honest, readers– when you’re already eating cheese fries, bacon would just be the nail in that coronary coffin.)
Both of us: “I wonder if they’re going to eat them.”
What happens next is purely the work of my Vine compatriot– I would like to put IN WRITING that I was not involved in the conversation that ensued.
Natalie, to one of the men with the fries: “Is bacon good on those?”
Guy: “Yeah!”
Natalie: “We were gonna get em, but didn’t know…”
Guy: “You want these? We’re not gonna finish them.”
Natalie: “I mean, uhhh…”
Guy: “I didn’t slobber all over them or anything. For $20 you can have em! Haha, kidding– here.”
And then, the cheese fry handover happened. Like some sort of magical, levitating UFO, the giant plate exchanged hands and landed between Natalie and I only to be INHALED within minutes. To be fair, I did say something about “Oh, we should give him like, some money…” but the guys literally did not look at us or worry about their fallen fried comrades at any other point in the evening. After this incident, which may from now on be referred to as “The Cheese Fry Incident of 2010,” we decided it was probably time to high-tail it out of there, and not just because our waitress had definitely witnessed the whole thing (we’re already THOSE girl at The Vine, we don’t need the reputation of those being those girls as well.) In conclusion: good work, Dubs. If this is already what we’re accomplishing as seniors, imagine the shenanigans we’ll get into as roomies in Boston next year. Only not in the Charlestown area of Boston because I saw The Town this weekend and I’d quite prefer to not take up muling Oxy up Nashua way on the weekends.

P.S. To any relatives reading, click here to visit The Vine’s website. Two words: gift cards.

Bryce to Brittney, sarcastically in reference to my cheap-o plastic wayfarers emblazoned with Go Hawks! that were handed out all students during Welcome Week: “Nice sunglasses.”
Brittney: “They were free! It’s sunny out.”
Bryce: “If someone gave me those for free, I would say ‘Thank you for the sunglasses,’ and then put them on a shelf.”
Brittney: “Shut it.”

You know when you just know that a satellite in space can see that your ass is equivalent in size to one of those smaller chain islands in the South Pacific? Yeah, it’s been that kind of day. If you couldn’t already tell, NPH’s mom definitely delivered on the pumpkin bread, and he held up his end of the bargain with giving me the whole top slice (and most of the middle and sides, too.) She also brought a pan of lasagna (with spinach!) and extra-dark homemade brownies, but my tummy doesn’t want to discuss these things. I would also like to not talk about the Hawkeye game last night– there’s nothing to say but congratulations to Arizona and holy Lord, Ricky Stanzi– cut that hair. My time at home was successful, albeit it a bit too kettle corn laden… oh, who am I kidding, that’s not really possible. Savannah and I went to Going the Distance– SOOOOO cute, made me miss NPH (we had been apart approximately four hours at that point. Yes, I’m that person.) Afterward I had fun reminiscing with her mother, who has recently become a reader — HI, AMY!!!– and who I hope has finally tried pretzel M&Ms. Speaking of those little spherical devils, Roomie Lauren was kind enough to ration me out a baggie-ful from her party size bag, lest she come back from Maryland tomorrow to find them all gone. I decided they would make the perfect road trip treat and gave them prime passenger seat status, however got a tummyache about halfway in. To save me from myself, I threw the bag with the rest into the far corner on the floor of the other side of the car so I wouldn’t be tempted to snack on ‘em out of boredom. Well, I’m sure you can see where this is going. Speeding down I-80 near Newton, I realized those pretzel M&Ms once again had to be mine. What to do, what to do– cause a thirty car pile up even though they were clearly out of my reach, pull over, live without them? Clearly none of these. I grabbed a library book out of my backpack and used it as an arm extension to lean over– keeping half an eye on the road, of course– and flail it about, trying to flip the magical treats into arm’s reach. This actually wasn’t nearly as complicated or dangerous as it sounds, and I was able to finish those babies long before entering Polk County. Success. I’ve found I enjoy sucking on them to melt and eat all the chocolate, then enjoy the pretzel center on it’s own. It would be probably be healthier and less time-consuming to just buy a bag of pretzels, but that would ruin all the fun.

Day Four: Seven things that cross your mind
….I THOUGHT I HAD DONE THIS LIKE FOUR TIMES. Fine, let’s get this over with:
7. “If I wear this pajama/sweatpants combo to class, clearly my peers will think I’m either on my way to or have just come from multiple hours at the rec center.”
6. “Pancheros. Mesa. Which Wich? OASIS FALAFEL. The Vine. No, definitely The Vine.”
5. “Hehe, this post asks for ‘Seven Things.’ Just like Miley’s song “Seven Things.” No, I’m not ashamed of my love for her. In fact, I’m going to break out into song right now…. Well that was quite ill-received by the roommates. Bitches.”
4. “How weirded out on a scale of 1-10 would NPH’s parents be if I just moved in? God, I love that house (slash blueberry muffins, slash pasta salad, slash the best dog in the world KILO!!)”
3. “When I go home this weekend, do you think I’ll get taken to Costco? Will my mother just have Mom vibes and realize I’m almost out of Morningstar Farms Chipotle Black Bean Burgers? Droooool.”
2. “Get a job, get a job, interview, apply for jobs, no one will hire you, drown in beer and chocolate, get a job, get a job, where should I apply, Boston, Denver, not Texas, maybe Texas, no definitely Chicago, the zoo would hire me, NEED JOB NOW, noooo it’s far too early to apply for jobs, calm yourself.”
1. “I wish a new episode of Jersey Shore was on every day.”

Day Three: Eight ways to win your heart.
….HA! I’m really trying hard to not make all eight of these food items. If you’d like that list, though, I already have it printed out and kept in triplicate in both my Iowa City home, vehicle, and hometown. Because let’s be honest, number 8 is going to be:
8. FOOD. Buy it for me. Make it for me. Really anything except greasily-meated pizza which I still have some sort of aversion against. Gift cards to food places, take me to a restaurant, give me your leftover pizza crusts– the number one (or is this case, number eight) way to my heart is through FOOD.
7. I suppose I should say humor. There’s really no one in my life who isn’t at least slightly amusing, so I figure this just goes without saying. And yes, to those of you who are still under the impression that NPH doesn’t talk– he makes me laugh more than anyone!!
6. Skilled in our non-public times together. Yeahhhh girl, you got it. Contrary to the beliefs most of my family still holds, I have been alone with a male behind closed doors. Purely to work on homework, of course. I realize this one isn’t exactly a way to win one’s heart since one should go before the other, but just in case you were to entrap me in some sort of Ponzi scheme in your bedroom, this would be the best way to spin it.
Author’s note: this one is really hard and even more dumb than the rest on the list. Seriously, I covered it with my first one.
5. Doesn’t think Germany automatically equals Hitler. I suppose this one equals out to “don’t be a dumbass,” but since returning from abroad, this is actually an unfortunately common misconception among my peers. So if you wanna get in these sugar walls, don’t be ignorant. This also applies to all matters of equality rights (goddamn college liberals.)
4. Be employed. Having dated an unemployed schmuck (love you, P. Wood!) I now know having a steady income or two is crucial to wining and dining me. Simply because otherwise I’m the one who ends up footing the bill for aforementioned wining and dining, and well, see number 8– my dining ain’t cheap.
3. …Get along with my family? I’m really just pulling at strings at this point. My family– and I mean as the collective whole, not necessarily the three crazies (love you, immediate family!) I spend the majority of my time with– are quite ahhhh, ummmmm, a piece of work. You’re reading it, and you know you are. There aren’t enough hours in my month to explain the background on these groups, but I suppose the “key to my heart” as per this post, is to just smile and nod in all situations. To be fair, both sides can cook like nobody’s business, and you at least won’t be sober during any interaction with either.
2. Food. Yes, it deserves at least two of these eight.
1. Tell me how awesome I am. Good Lord, she has a blog dedicated to her own thoughts and triumphs– clearly she’d like to be told at least four times a day (in person, by text, and even e-mail are all perfectly acceptable mediums) what an amazing human anomaly she is. …am I right? Yeah, yeah I’m right. Later in therapy it will all come out as to why I think the universe revolves around me, but until then– just feed into it. Feeeeeeed me.

Day Two: Nine things about yourself
…this whole blog is about myself, so I’ll try and get creative with things you haven’t heard. They won’t be “I’m watching Forgetting Sarah Marshall right now” (which I am) or “I skipped class today” (which I did.) Hey, I turned in my assignment first.

9. My favorite beer changes often, but it’s currently Boulevard Wheat, extra points if served with a slice of lemon. Do NOT confuse this with Boulevard Pale Ale which is what I imagine fermented chalky piss to taste like if it were to be bottled and distributed at the local HyVee Wine and Spirits.
8. Lunch is my favorite meal of the day. It used to be breakfast, but somehow the noon-day eating has really taken hold of my heart. Perhaps because once you’ve eaten lunch, it’s more socially acceptable to just keep snacking into the next meal.
7. I don’t like s’mores. I don’t like the three things that make up s’mores (unless the milk chocolate is in the form of M&Ms and then well, all bets are off, buddy) though I have had s’more Pop-Tarts and can’t say I hated them. Anything with that much partially hydrogenated oil is guaranteed to be yummy, though.
6. I no longer have a key to 713. This hasn’t really affected me in the least, and I voluntarily surrendered it to one of our friends who is parking his car in their driveway for the year. (Are you paying them for that, Jordan?)
5. My current roommate situation is the first I’ve been really diggin’. I like the dynamic of living with two other people instead of just one. We’re only about a month in so this could change, I suppose, but Vegas is already booked bitches (166 days!)
4. Speaking of roommates, we’ve all been given nicknames. I was probably at 713 during this process, thus just came home one day to the name “Bitch Duck” in block letters taped to my door (I’m told it’s from an episode of Family Guy.) The others are named Ho-Train and Skankasaur– our first names are merely formalities. On the first day of class when my professor told us to shout out during roll call if we preferred to be called something else, every fiber in my body was screaming “Call me Bitch Duck!” But instead I just corrected her about the pronunciation of my last name.
3. I have really good pitch, singing-wise that is. Or so I’ve been told. And so I’d like to think when belting Katy Perry and speeding down I-80. But seriously, collegiate music majors have told me this. Homegirl can saaaaang.
2. Horrible acne. Even at age 21. What?! I figured one of these nine should be horribly TMI.
1. The song One Night in Bangkok makes me so, so happy. Like, deliriously so. What a silly, fun song. I realize this was a very anti-climactic #1, but it’s really the most on-my-mind thing as of late. Besides pretzel M&Ms, of course.