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!!

Well, yesterday was the day.  My 21st birthday.  I’ve only been counting for oh, years?  I remember figuring out that it’d be the year 2010 before I could legally drink (this makes me sound like an extra alcohol dependent) and assuming the world would probably explode before then.  While it’s probably close, the Earth is still in fact intact and my i.d. is now quite legal.  I worked 9-5, a shift that went by remarkably fast and was filled with lots of fun projects. My bosses took me out to lunch and we were given a free slice of birthday cake; they are awesome.  The rest of my day was, erm… quite different from how I had ever pictured my 21st birthday being.  I went home, pizza was involved, so were some Comedy Central specials I had already seen.  This is due mostly (all?) to the fact I’m flying to Vegas in a day to have a weekend full of plenty of celebration to count for yesterday, today, perhaps the whole month of June.  I also just returned from a rather fabulous weekend in Iowa City where I got to celebrate with all of my friends over there (and be severely letdown by like NOWHERE being open for my birthday dinner with NPH because of Memorial Day.  I had my heart set on sushi and still lay awake at night craving it, ahem Formosa.)  Lauren and I saw Sex and the City 2 and then racked up quite an impressive bill at The Vine in honor of the last time I’d ever use my fake i.d.

AND, let’s not forget– I met Neil’s parents. They were lovely.  His sister even came along, and the five of us had a perfectly pleasant dinner and conversation.  His mother made the  world’s best chocolate chip cookie bars AND lasagna (which we later ate with our hands because 713 doesn’t have any forks.  Just imagine how much even better it would have tasted if we had microwaved it and used the proper utensils.)  Both NPH and the lil’ sis informed me later that I was positively loved by all, and if anything they find me a bit saint-like for putting up with the hygiene habits of most members of the house.  Now I’m counting down the days til Lollapalooza (GAGA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) just so we can stay at his house and his mom can feed me for three days.

Only THREE MORE HOURS til our plane takes off from Miami.  Have I mentioned how much I loathe all things associated with flying?  I like travel, just not the getting there.  The cruise was great, quite warm.  Perhaps I’ll post pics later.  I’m currently watching a boy of about four or five pelt his younger brother with stuffed animals whilst wrestling about in front of a Pizza Hut in the Miami International Airport.

For the next 48 hours I’ve pretty much accepted that I will be in meltdown mode, remembering forgotten things I should pack for my semester abroad, being extremely short with family members, trying to enjoy watching the Hawkeyes win the Orange Bowl but being jealous of my friends who road-tripped down to see it in person.  Once I’m on the plane I should be fine (oh, who am I kidding– two hours into it my legs will have severely cramped and I’ll be debating whether or I can hold it or should I ask the person next to me to move AGAIN so I can go to the bathroom.)

My horoscope today told me to exercise.  Boy howdy I wish it were acceptable for me to start doing laps through the H concourse.  After two weeks of constant eating and very little activity, my body is screaming for elevated heartrate brought on by something other than OH SWEET JESUS WHERE DOES ONE BUY A WATCH BATTERY IN THE GREATER DES MOINES AREA SO I CAN TELL THE TIME WHILE 30,000 FEET ABOVE THE ATLANTIC?!  Yes, people– these are my thoughts.

I must go find a Starbucks now or just stretch my feet or probably let little brother have time on my laptop (thanks Google for the free wireless.)

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…

“She’s blogging!  She survived the night!”

Yes indeed, you may all carry on with your lives normally again– one night down, 141 to go (yep, I calculated that when I woke up.)  Thanks to my newest best friend NyQuil, I slept 13 hours and my throat feels much better.  And I suppose I’m genuinely glad to be home (so much food in the fridge!  So many TVs!  Someone else to clean the kitchen!)

This afternoon we have Chistmas 2 of 3, this time with my mom’s dad’s side of the family.  Speaking of, I’ve scoped out the present situation under our trees and there are some for me, though not dozens as there should be (there’s still four shopping days left, I’m not too concerned) but T-BONE has TAPED the bags shut.  Ahem.  If I were really desperate (and it’s only Sunday, so I’m not ruling this out later in the week) I could cut open the tape, peer inside, then re-do it with no one the wiser (I mean, my conscience would know, but I’ve gotten pretty good at shutting it up after 20 years of questionable morals.  <– A half-joke.  You should half-laugh.)

Speaking of presents, NPH loved his.  Mine never arrived.  The bastard assures me they’re on their way and that he’ll send them to me to take to Germany.  I don’t have the heart to tell him I’m not devoting precious space in my luggage to three bottles of barbecue sauce.  Oh, and APPARENTLY my parents met each other long ago and were “friends” but my mom “didn’t like him like that” until she moved away and realized they were “actually in love with each other.”  Okay 1.) Barf.  2.) That was some heavy use by me of superfluous quotations around most of that story. 3.) Yes.  I understand this.  You the reader, Obama the president, Jerry the homeless guy in Iowa City ALL THINK Neil and I are either already dating or destined to be together or at some point in our lives be touching each other beyond the occasional drunk slapping I do of him when he makes fun of me for exchanging more than pleasantries with a kid who went to special ed in high school (if you do not already know this story, you don’t want to.  Might I just say for the record: HE WAS NOT “special.”  So academia might not be his strong suit.  BIG DEAL– he’s in college now.  Not a very rigorous one, but higher education nonetheless.)  I’ve completely lost my train of thought now… anyway, the point is: me + hot German man I’ve yet to meet = yes please  You may think I’m going over there to “learn German” because its required by “my major.”  HA.  Boy do I have you fooled.  This is really just a husband-finding mission.  NPH already knows he’ll be standing up between Kayla and Lauren in my bridal party in Vegas.  I think he’s quite excited for this, especially if I pick out bridesmaid dresses they’ll be able to wear on other occasions, for example, a mid-summer polo match.  Ooh, I should get them in red– Neil really does look best in warm colors.

Good MORRRRRNING!!!!!!!

Roomie’s working all day so I figured I’d turn on a little TV while I PACK and CLEAN (I’ll really try to spare you how I’m not dealing well at all with the freak amounts of anxiety I’m suddenly wrecked with about moving/subleasing/Germany/etc.)  The View is on, and unfortunately I caught it during “Hot Topics” when they were discussing that Obama gave himself a B+ job so far.  I had to switch to a different channel for a while because do you know who MAKESMESOFUCKINGPISSED?  Elizabeth Hasselbeck.  I think she’s adorable, I watched her on Survivor, as a person I have zero problem with her.  But when she opens her whiny, ultra-conservative mouth and starts going off about how our president is “delusional” and at best deserves a D because he just sucks so goddamn bad to her, my hereditarily low blood pressure gets going and I get quite irate.  So that wasn’t a fabulous way to start my morning.  I liked Charlie Gibson’s answer later that he should have given himself an Incomplete.

Let’s talk about PRESENTS.  We’re 11 days out from the  big day (pass me a brown paper bag, please) and I have a gift for one (1, uno, eine) family member (CONGRATULATIONS, Mom– it’s you.  As if it were hard to figure out.)  My father is the world’s hardest person to buy for so he’ll be lucky if he gets a package of Twizzlers under the tree (hint…hint…ideas, Sir.)  I also have NPH’s gift, only because I got it months ago as an inside joke gift, then realized I’d just hold onto it and pass it off in celebration of Christ’s birth.  And GUESS WHAT– he ordered mine yesterday… then deleted his computer history, the bastard.  I am so so SO the snoopiest person when it comes to surprises.  When I was at home, I’d find my presents hidden in the guest room or a closet.  I wouldn’t advise putting my gifts in a bag with just some tissue paper over it because it’s guaranteed I’ll peek.  I realize this is an asshole thing to do, but I can’t help it, I’m very much about instant gratification.  Surprises are something I can’t decide if I love or hate.  Thanks to my very generous parents, surprises are a normal part of my life, be it a book or box of brownie mix in the mail randomly or “Hey, what are you doing this weekend, let’s go to Vegas for your birthday.”  Methinks I love giving surprises much more than receiving…. <–not sexual.  It’s the holidays, people.

What the aitch is up with pretty major celebrities doing dumb dumb dumb endorsements?  Examples: Christina Aguilera doing DirecTV commercials, Luke Wilson hawking AT&T, Ciara doing some dumb cell phone commercial, and Megan Mullally singing a God awful parody of Gloria Estefan’s “Turn the Beat Around” for a new kind of I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter.  I doubt any of them need the money that bad (okay… so Megan hasn’t really been doing much since Will & Grace.  Le sigh.  Loved that show.)

Anyway… I haven’t started studying for my one and only final yet.  Probably won’t until tomorrow.  Just couldn’t give a shit less at this point.

Mom’s package came in the mail today.  If you have a hankering for triple chocolate Ghiradelli brownies anytime in the next week, I’m your girl.

I turned my journalism scholarships application in today with three hours to spare!  Deadlines are the only thing that gets my work done.  At the beginning of every semester I have great intentions to do ALLMYWORK within the first two weeks, but that always gives way to doing a shoddy job moments before everything’s due.  I see no reason to change this– I’ve operated pretty well like this for twenty years.  The early bird gets the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.  <– I don’t know who originally said this, but I completely ripping them off.

You know who thinks it’s hi-LAR-ious to change people’s Facebook statues or tweets or blog posts when they remain logged in on an abandoned computer?  NPH.  Last night was the first and hopefully only time I have fallen victim to this.  While it wasn’t exactly hard to figure out the perpetrator (his blog post was all about his vast superiority because he can drink more than me), I do appreciate him checking the BBC’s Web site for international news mid-shenanigan and later discovering it on my computer history.

Christmas is TWO weeks away!  Roomie has informed me that Hanukkah starts tonight.  Mazel tov?  I can get down with celebrating eight nights in a row.

So I have this idea, and I think you’re really going to like it.  A rent-a-baby service.  People like babies, but don’t want to have any of their own (I’m generally going to market this to the college-aged population.)  If a mom wants an afternoon away from her screaming kid, she drops it off at my rent-a-baby service and someone can come by and take it out on the town for about an hour.  She doesn’t have to pay for a babysitter, you don’t have to pay to hang out with a baby.  But only cool babies.  If you have a boring baby, you are not allowed to have people rent it. ”Oh wow, I’m really enjoying my walk through the ped mall today, but it’d be a lot better if I had a BABY with me.”   “Oh hey there’s Brittney– and she’s hanging out with a baby!  Ohhh, what tomfoolery she’s always getting in to.”  We’ll get into the whole diaper-changing/ background checks thing later, but I’m fairly certain you’re just as sold on this idea as me.

Well folks, I’m itching for an ADVENTURE.  Most people on campus are “staying in” this weekend and “studying” for “final exams.”  These phrases confuse me.  If I end up at 713 next to Neil on the couch, I will scream.  A change of scenery is always appreciated.  Perhaps I will go paint my nails now.  Or frost some cookies.  Yep– THIS IS MY LIFE.