Brittney Has Something To Say » Family

To Diet is To Fail

Brittney — Sat, 27 Nov 2010 03:58:52 +0000

Many of you have the privilege of knowing my father, often referred to here as Papa K, in real life. For those who don’t, I’m not really sure I can quickly describe him and do near justice, but trust that he’s quite the guy. Quite the guy who’s lost 120 pounds in the last year and half, actually. You don’t lose that much weight without people noticing, and when people asked how he did it, he’d reply, “Oh, you’ll read it in my book.” Knowing the kind of person he is, he was definitely only half-kidding when he said this, so it was only a matter of time before this actually happened. Yep, he went out and actually wrote and published a book. So yeah, this post is a shameless promotion– you can buy To Diet is To Fail on Amazon just in time for the holidays! He writes about how he did it, the habits he changed and how his whole mindset towards eating has changed. It’s not a lot of emotional fluff, it’s pretty blunt about how you can do it all, too. (Don’t worry, he’s not the cheerleader type. No Oprah style testimonials or breakdowns.) I’m not sure I’ll actually benefit if anyone buys it or not (eh, eh? A little cash in the old stocking, Pops?) but even if it doesn’t exactly get on any bestseller lists, I’m still very proud. I certainly have never written a book, and after reading it, admire the lifestyle changes he implemented to lose the weight in the first place. My eating habits could definitely use an overhaul as well, and while he doesn’t exactly have a chapter titled “Put Down the Beer and Pizza and Take Your Dog on a Walk, Hawkeye,” a lot of the advice in the book is common sense stuff that I’ll be putting into action (…tomorrow. Because today was Thanksgiving Leftovers Day.) So you know, click on over to check it out if you want to, if only to see the before and after pic on the cover. Ooh and I almost forgot the best part– if you do buy it (or check it out at the library), you can turn to page seven and read the dedication. Yours truly gets a shout-out

…ok, fine– I’ll just show you the cover. Only because it’s a mondo-ly impressive transformation, much more inspiring than me making up words like “mondo-ly.”

Father’s Day

Brittney — Sun, 20 Jun 2010 14:57:57 +0000

Happy Father’s Day to the best pops around– Papa K (I have no idea why that caught on. I believe the nickname was actually the brainchild of the ex-boyfriend. Mine, not my father’s.) Dad’s the one who originally decided Brittney Had Something (worthy?) to Say and headed up Iowa Girls Gone Wild (not to mention dealt with any possibly legal issues regarding us blatantly ripping off Joe Francis’ lovely franchise.) He’s the one who figured my brain might need a break and funded my Spring Break expedition back across the Atlantic, only to then have me spend most of that week with my boyfriend. Speaking of, Dad took NPH to a shooting range two weeks ago when we were in Vegas so they could shoot fully automatic weapons together. While at first I was certain this was some sort of ploy for the gun to “accidentally” go off in or near one of Neil’s major organs, he in fact came back raving about how that was possibly the best of the trip and “Your dad is awesome.” This sentiment seems to be echoed by everyone who meets him, because quite frankly, he is awesome. I was GOING to make him scotcheroos, but we don’t have butterscotch chips and apparently not much actual pre-planning was involved. Instead, he got a random assortment of his favorite candy and some Mike’s Hard Lemonade because 1.) He really likes it and despite what those middle schoolers may have you think, it’s actually quite a manly drink and 2.) The novelty of legally purchasing alcohol has definitely not worn off yet. Be sure to check out the “Wisdom from my Father” page up top to get a sampling of his various nuggets of wisdom, all of which have authentically been told to me in various times of trial/tribulation/cockiness/heartbreak/you name it, he likes to have some sort of catchy saying for it.

HAPPY FATHER’S DAY, DAD!!

Shout-out to my mama

Brittney — Wed, 26 May 2010 02:27:00 +0000

Hello, world– it is I, the girl who apparently has nothing interesting to say upon her return to the States. My internship is going fabulously, but per the social media clause in my employee handbook I can’t divulge where it is or give lot of details about what I do there. I’m extra loving that it’s paid, a perk that couples nicely with the fact I’m not paying rent to live at home (a fact of which my father keeps reminding me.) I promise myself, my parents, my car, and my dear readers that I will NOT be going to Iowa City every weekend or chance I get a day off… though that’s exactly what I did after work on Saturday. All of 713 except for NPH had gone home for the weekend, giving us the perfect opportunity to geek out and be Brittney and Neil circa fall ‘09– aka eat brats, drink beer, and watch The Departed. We’re either the coolest or lamest couple you know, I’ll let you decide and keep the answer to yourself. Upon returning to work on Monday I felt awful. Like I wanted to hurl all day kind of awful. And later that night, while driving home, that’s exactly what I did. I’ve now reached a blogging crossroads in which I could either summarize the last 24 hours as “I’m sick” OR I could go into extreme detail about the puking carnage that occurred IN MY CAR while I was at a stoplight and NO, I did not have the foresight to roll down the window or open the door. Yeah, pretty gruesome. Anyway, apparently when you’re sick and have just dispelled the contents of your stomach onto the pile of work polos sitting in your passenger seat, you revert to early childhood and start crying and call your mom. God bless this woman, she met me outside when I pulled up and CLEANED UP THE PUKE IN MY CAR while I just stood outside of it, crying, “It’s so GROSS!!!” She sent me inside to peel off my clothing (which she also washed, in retrospect I owe her at least a nice card or hanging basket) and then set a trash can and a glass of 7-Up next to my dying form in my bed where I’ve been ever since. So, while I give this woman a lot of shit in life, a giant THANK YOU goes out to T-Bone for going above and beyond her Mom duties yesterday. While I still don’t feel 100%, the whole upchucking thing appears to have gone away after a much more spectacular encore performance around 10:30 last night. (In case you were wondering, the ol’ boyfriend was ill last week and I completely and resolutely blame every single part of my illness on him.)

On CNN, there is currently an article about a man stabbing 29 pigs during a drunken black out.

No one asks me about Germany anymore.

Up in the Air

Brittney — Tue, 29 Dec 2009 19:25:06 +0000

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.

Do not pass Go

Brittney — Wed, 23 Dec 2009 21:33:10 +0000

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…

Welp. It’s here

Brittney — Fri, 18 Dec 2009 23:24:42 +0000

By some miracle (and with a little help from a super cutie at Hy-Vee) I got enough boxes and found enough motivation to pack all my shit and have officially MOVED OUT. Adios, adorable loft apartment only steps from downtown but a bit out of my price range. It’s been fun. I suppose I can no longer climb those bajillion fafillion stairs every day and call it exercise.

T-Bone and Papa K rolled in to help haul stuff to my storage unit, and NPH decided to come along for the ride. And then I abandoned the poor kid with my parents while going to finally sign over the lease to our subletters. I do hope they got along swimmingly. Dad only called NPH the name of my ex-boyfriend a handful of times, and my mother got enlightened by Neil’s freak knowledge of the differences between Britain’s political parties. So basically… I had to do minimal work and that. was. awesome. Even awesome-er was LUNCH at WHICH WICH and I got my black bean patty with avacado, BBQ, sauerkraut, and some other stuff– it did not disappoint. I was sta-HARV-ing because I hadn’t eaten for like… 14 hours. WHAT?! I know. Unfathomable.

I am now sitting at 713, my new home, my future home (Dad, you HAVE to be on board with this now– NO STAIRS!!) waiting for the going away festivities to start. Oh and, NPH and I bought apple brats for dinner. As if you didn’t see that coming. AND a new flavor of BBQ sauce (since my Christmas gift of assorted sauces hasn’t arrived yet.)

OH, so last night, me and my main bitch Lauren (saying good-bye to her tonight SAD FACE) went to the always classy Piano Lounge for cheap martinis and to flirt shamelessly with the musician, who played guitar instead of the usual piano. And he WINKED AT ME while playing SWEET CHILD O MINE. Is there anything more? Nope. Stick a fork in me, I’m done. Might kill myself because life doesn’t get much better than that (note: that was a JOKE. If you are a mandatory reporter, I assure you, I am not a self-harm risk.) He was probably super turned on by the fact I was charging my phone in a random outlet I found in the center of the bar. It wasn’t that crowded, don’t worry.

Alrighty tighty, Kiddos– I’m out like Adam Lambert. I’ll make sure and heed the wisdom my father imparted to me before leaving today… “It’s your last night. Don’t do anything silly, anything memorable.” Oh don’t worry, I definitely won’t be remembering it

Home stretch

Brittney — Thu, 17 Dec 2009 17:44:42 +0000

It’s PACKING DAY!! Almost as fun as moving day. Almost. The real question on everyone’s minds is WHERE TO EAT LUNCH tomorow with the parents and NPH (that’s right people, they’re meeting. Get excited. My mother will fawn over his rugged Brawny paper towel man looks and my father will get deeply engrossed in conversation with him about manly things like how best to manuever my 600 pound television down four flights of stairs. OR… he and I show up hungover and they say Oh hey, so you’re the one she’s always blogging about, thanks for helping. My money’s on scenario two.) I’m thinking Which Wich since I can’t leave the great US of A without one last black bean patty on wheat with avocado and barbecue sauce YUM YUM YUM excited. Or the Hamburg Inn. Or the Pit for some BBQ. Dammit. “You wanna see Brittney’s head totally spin? Ask her where she wants to eat. She can’t do it.” — my father. It is true. Indecisiveness is one of my few character flaws.

You know what SUCKS? My milk-to-cereal ratio for lunch was way off. I don’t oft’ buy cereal, especially not Rice Krispies (can I get a woo-hoo for Reese’s Puffs and Grape Nuts?! Not together of course) but they were left over from baking. And I’m a sucker for how much noise they make when you put the milk on ‘em. Hehehe more foods should make sounds. While I’m on this random food tangent, let me say that I have no problem with lukewarm foods. Or cold food. I don’t often eat hot food. One of the ladies at work was SO. DISGUSTED. that for lunch one day I whipped a can of soup out of my bag, pulled off the top and dug right in. Cold. I also eat with my hands whenever possible (but not soup DUH.) Both Natalie & NPH have commented in the last week on my um, interesting style of eating. Namely pulling eveything apart and picking at things and re-forming them and generally treating mealtime like a toddler. And I WONDER why I don’t go on more dates…

In the name of making this post longer while relieving myself to FINALLY PACK… (maybe)… I will now post the blog NPH penned one evening entitled “Why I’m a Weak Drinker” (apparently I don’t wish to ever have legitimate employment). Note that his FULL NAME is in it– all his doing– so you can all go Google and Internet stalk him and show up at his house and peer in his windows and I will laugh heartily.

“Hey My name is Brittney, I’m a pretty good drinker. Let me just say however that I bow to Neil Ledford in terms of drinking. He is a far better drinker than me. I wish, every night I wish I had his ability. Sadly however, it is impossible for me to gain his ability. I can only hope!”

Thanks, buddy. I would just like to point out the size difference between the two of us so I would HOPE the kid could put much more away than I. We should probably work on getting real hobbies at some point…

Happy birthday, T-Bone!

Brittney — Tue, 15 Dec 2009 17:28:23 +0000

It’s my mama’s birthday, e’erybody– let’s give up a big HAPPY BIRTHDAY, T-BONE!!!

Yesterday NPH and I traveled to the GIANT METROPOLIS of Hills, Iowa and rented me a storage facility to move all my stuff into on Friday. He knows my personalized gate code to get into the facility, has a key to it and is one of the alternate phone numbers should something go wrong with my stuff while I’m away. Yup– we’re pretty much married.

Do you know what song and video are ABSOLUTELY ridiculous?! “Video Phone” by Beyonce and my favorrrrrrite Lady Gaga. It’s a song. About a video phone. No, Brittney. But surprisingly… yes. Gaga’s lookin a bit more tranny in this one, and now I can’t even watch the video with a straight face after seeing the following parody of it:

In other GREAT NEWS: Melanie (my German language buddy– come on people, keep up) 1. Added me on Facebook, and 2. Told me they eat LOTS OF BREAD there. I had inquired about the food situation. Her first response: bread. “Hundreds of types.” Plus lots of other carbs. So while I might require two plane seats on the return flight, these next four months are looking to be pretty boss.

In about an hour here I have a Mesa pizza date with the always lovely Natalie (she just squealed with delight, my number one fan.) Then I’ll be wandering aimlessly about town studying all afternoon until I meet my former boss for coffee later this evening. Then I probably might actually read some notes or crack the textbook (HA– okay, that was a giant lie) and study til whenever I want since the final’s at 7:30 am. And then DONE, BITCHES. Go figure, NPH’s only final is also at 7:30 tomorrow morning, so you can imagine the kinds of shenanigans we’ll be getting into afterward. And perhaps I should focus on packing the rest of my apartment at some point. You know, just a thought.

Oh, and… drumroll please… in honor of my mother’s birth AND the fact that I have to go into public soon… today I’m going to shower!!