My arm feels like it’s about to fall off– thanks, flu shot! Today I’m thankful for this fabulous article from the New York Times, full of amazing vegetarian Thanksgiving recipes. I’ve got my eye on a couple of them, and don’t worry, Grandma– I can help in the kitchen and make a dish or two! It seems my vegetarian lifestyle would be greatly aided if I could stand even the thought of mushrooms, but since I like almost everything else that comes out of the ground, I’ll just have to suffer without the mushroom stuffings and portobello burgers of the world.

My black and gold fingernail polish is chipped, my hangover has subsided, and I’ve declared Labor Day “get my life back on track day.” So far, it’s been moderately successful since I’ve gotten one and three-quarters homework assignments done AND introduced NPH to the wonder of peanuts mixed with candy corn (if you haven’t tried it– it’s gotta be Brach’s candy corn and salted, dry-roasted Planter’s nuts. There’s a certain ratio that I’m kind of forgetting right now, but one bag and one jar should do ya. Beware, the entire bowl will be gone in a sitting if you don’t watch yourself.) Needless to say, the first tailgate of the season was a rousing success. My Crock-Pot breakfast casserole was a surprising hit, and no one brought a bat to do Louisville Chuggers, thus making us able to stay upright far longer than most games. Sunday was a fabulous day for laying and contemplating suicide and half-watching trashy reality television. Fortunately, I start both of my jobs this week (thanks for the well wishes– they apparently worked as I got the second internship I interviewed for) so the level of debauchery brought upon by the first home game will be unattainable for the rest of the semester. On a different note, happy birthday to my father, who is currently on a plane to Las Vegas (only a stop on the way to visit some relatives.) Either way, I’m very jealous because being in Vegas or even Eugene, Oregon means I wouldn’t be in school, the absolute bane of my existence. Yes, perhaps that WILL be the running theme of the blog until graduation– it’s just not. getting. better. I loved school until about high school, but since then it’s been an unfortunate means to the ultimate end of having a real career. No, I didn’t get my dad a gift, but I would want a blog shout-out over a package of Twizzlers or grill accessories any day. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

After 13 hours of sleep last night I woke up feeling horrid.  I don’t think that’s how it’s supposed to work, so I went to student death health where they loaded me with antibiotics for a sinus infection.  The rest of the day has been spent in bed, wondering if my head and throat could possibly feel any worse, and I have decided that no, they cannot.  NPH offered to bring me juice after class (thanks, buddy) but not only would that have thrust him far into boyfriend territory, I also have a freak love for going to HyVee and wanted to do it myself.  A carton of orange juice, some NyQuil (on sale!), a can of soup & some apple cider flavored tea later and I think I’m good to go.  To bed, that is, which I’ll be doing here in about ten minutes.  Yes, it is approximately 5 p.m.

Congrats to the Hawkeyes for making it to the Orange Bowl.  I know many people who plan on going to Miami for the game, and GUESS WHAT we’ll be down at about the same time because that’s where we fly in and out of for our cruise.

If you have a moment and want to read something far more interesting than my mindless blathering, check out this article in today’s DI.  It’s about binge drinking (BIGSURPRISE) but I liked his one much more than some of their previous.  Perhaps because if you check out the multimedia package on the right there’s pictures of people who’ve puked on themselves.  As far as remeding the situation, Greek life should definitely be wet (something ISU has over us) and students will just have to be cognizant of how much they’re drinking on their own.  Long editorials and city council meetings are obviously not changing anything, we’re all so friggin’ tired of hearing we drink too much.  Don’t they say about addicts, you can’t change them until they finally want to change?  The underage drinkers and binge drinkers of Iowa City obviously don’t want to change, and the ones who do, will.  No one’s done anything significant to impede our drinking, and if they did, we’d relegate ourselves indoors to house parties and more lame backyard kegs a la Ames to get the job done.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with some nasty cherry-flavored NyQuil in hopes of just sleeping this thing off.

Sports Illustrated cover + parents’ weekend + Ashton Kutcher in attendance + Northwestern = inevitable loss.  All season people kept saying “When we lose it will be to someone like  Northwestern” and then their friends around them would explode into a fit of giggles because the 9-0, 4th ranked Hawkeyes are just so much better than that.  Except everyone, including us, knew we weren’t.  As someone from my immediate family who was not my mother or brother texted me after “Thank God that’s over.”   I’d have to agree– we had a nice run, but OMFGSHUTUPPPPPPPP.  And now they will.

Last night was my final shift at my beloved job, at least til I return from abroad.  My boss and I decided I’m the Stanzi of the store, with me being out for the season and all.  I also was complaining that my leg was broken hurt  a lot because my back was hella messed up from some awkward couch-sleeping followed by miles of trekking to tailgating before 7 am.  In flip-flops.  All night I was having quite the mental struggle over what my final free sandwich for a while would be.  In the end, I got my favoritest favorite– I can make a ham sandwich at home anyday, but the world does not get any better than  black bean patty with avacado, BBQ sauce, some hummus, some other stuff that’s SUPERDELICIOUSINMYMOUTH.

If it rains this month, I will fah-REAK out because it will be November Rain.

Today I have to like, vacuum my living room and dust the TV and get things all ready for our PRSSA social.  I may even put out a plate of cheese and crackers.  Step aside, people– domestic goddess coming through.

Bestie’s parents came yesterday and his mother brought the best pumpkin bread in the history of the world.  You think I’m exaggerating here, but nay. It had raisins and walnuts in it (don’t barf, it was sophisticated quick bread).  Unfortunately the pan was set between college boys wielding a knife– I fear that one slice will be my only experience with that magical, magical treat.

This was my last weekend in Iowa City until the last weekend in November, and I am beyond ok with that.