Today feels like a Wednesday. It is, in fact, a Tuesday. Fact: this is the first week I’m working a regular 8-5 M-F work week. Due to weekend conferences, holidays, and afternoons off, I’ve never worked one of these at my job before. We do have a potluck tomorrow so perhaps I can pretend it’s a ragin’ party. I made pesto pasta salad, and I don’t know about you, but that was always one of our requirements for a damn good time in college.

Speaking of college, tomorrow’s date is 7/13. For anyone who ever had the pleasure of stepping foot inside the glorious place with the same address, we ask that you observe the holiday by getting black out drunk wherever you are. Unfortunately for everyone who actually had to live there, we all (and yes, I’m included myself as a resident) have big kid jobs and might have one light domestic beer before calling it a night.

I feel absolutely terrible for bemoaning my long distance relationship when there are thousands of military families out there living without their loved ones for very scary years on end, but occasionally I do get very sad, self-pitying and overall wallow-y about being apart from Neil for at least a year. My father might take this as an indication that we have moved up a Defcon (yes, he seriously inquires about our relationship as if it’s some sort of defense maneuver by the Armed Forces) which it probably is, but there’s no need to discuss that in the privacy of our own home when I can just announce it on a very public yet sparsely-read blog. I’m mostly upset about the hundreds of miles between us because I’m the sole caretaker of one Fergus M. Jackson, Esquire who, pardon my French, has been an asshole lately. It’s like he always wants to play with me or hang out on my lap or needs to go outside to pee or be petted and loved and fed. The nerve.

Not to be that freaky dog person, but one of Neil’s roommates who’s a film major just unearthed this gem from the day we brought home Fergus Jackson. Behold, try not to “Awww!” or squeal too much.

Fergus Jackson

(I don’t know why it’s not just directly embedding, but the above link will take you to YouTube for maximum puppy adorableness.)

Because I was such an amazing girlfriend during NPH’s illness, he decided to take me out to eat as a way of saying thank you. Sure, he could have gotten flowers or some dumb card, but this kid knows the way to my heart. So to Texas Roadhouse we went today, because one: I seem to be coming back from my previous vegetarianism with a vengeance, and two: he had never been. I KNOW. My boyfriend, who might as well have barbecue sauce pumping through his veins in lieu of blood, had before today never been to Texas Roadhouse. Egads. It is because of this amazing, rolls-on-the-table, pick two sides with your entree of ‘cued meat establishment, I am now in a full-on food coma on the couch while Fergus sleeps on my lap and Neil flips between infommercials, Pawn Stars, and the Bears-Packers game. (I’ve decided to cheer for the Bears today for really no other reason than I’m feeling fickle toward the Packers this season.) The ol’ Roadhouse didn’t disappoint (I had the ribs, he had the pulled pork, we shared, it was adorable) and of COURSE I was all, “You know I ate eight of these rolls one time in five minutes to win a roll-eating competition during Relay for Life our freshman year, right?!??!” Yes, Brittney. We all know. I informed my dining companion that I’m 100% certain I could shatter my previous record, but since I was already branded a freak for wearing flip-flops, I decided to not give the neighboring tables anything more at which to stare. (Don’t ask– 713 had a small-ish soiree of 100+ people last night and I didn’t feel like pulling on my fashion boots just to head out to lunch. So I borrowed a pair of Bryce’s flip-flops, obviously.) Apparently I have “homework” that’s “due tomorrow” because we’re still in “college” and life isn’t just one long “winter break.” As you may have inferred from the air quotes, I believe none of this. Priority numero uno is a nap, and hopefully when I wake up, it will magically be again the day after Christmas and I will have zero responsibilities in the upcoming weeks.

Christmas was a rousing success, and we managed to continue the awesomeness into a 713 celebration of the new year last night. Apparently 2010 sucked the big one for many people around me, but as per my prediction at this time last year, it was perhaps my greatest year to date. 2011 is looking to be equally as awesome, though perhaps a touch more scary. I could not be more excited for the coming 364 days (if this first one was any indication, this will be an amazing year) because BIG things are sure to happen. In five months, I’ll graduate college, (hopefully? No, surely) get a job, move, make a lot of grown-up decisions– so exciting!!! Yes, that was a lot of exclamation points and overused adjectives, but seriously 2011, let’s do this.

So I have this sweater.

I bought it at Target exactly two weeks ago. While NPH was taking the GRE, his entire post-graduate life in his hands, I went to Coral Ridge to blow money I don’t have on cute clothes for the coldest season. When we reconvened, he tried to explain what his score meant, what questions he may have messed up on, what schools he sent his score to. Meanwhile, I was waiting for him to notice my new boots!! that I had gotten during an impromptu trip to Kohl’s which also happened to be during their 50% off boots sale. Needless to say, it was more of me pointing out my new faux-suede fold-down knee/thigh-length black boots than him noticing them on his own. Then again, just last night I found out he doesn’t know what color my eyes are so… yeah. We’ll just leave it at that.

Anyway– back to my sweater. I’d had my eye on this sweater for a couple of weeks, though when I’d gone to Target to buy professional clothes for my trip to DC a month ago, I somehow talked myself out of superfluous purchases not related to securing a job in the greater Boston/DC area by Christmas 2010 (yeah, that’s goin’ REAL well…) Thus, my cozy knit sweater stayed on the rack. Long story short, however, two Wednesdays ago it became mine. A very purple sweater, one that I’m having much difficulty finding on Target.com, otherwise I’d just show you said sweater. (Posting a self-taken pic would be so passe.)

I purchased it– along with a lot of other things we don’t need to dicuss– and changed into it to take the boyfriend out to his post-GRE lunch & drinks at Short’s Burger & Shine. Haven’t been? Get there now, especially if you love a really black- beany black bean burger. Per the routine we’ve fallen into, we let Fergus out before leaving him for many hours. During my requisite time of fawning over his adorable puppy ass, one of his nails SNAGGED a thread in my sweater. RIP, two-hour-old beautiful eggplant top. Thankfully I’m not that into myself or my possessions, so merely said a few choice curse words and let NPH deal with him until kennel time. The small thread hanging from my sleeve didn’t exactly solicit outrage from many passersby that afternoon, so I put it out of my mind until I again donned my newly favorite sweater- that strongly reminds me of my great-grandmother- today.

Life was going well, until… I went to flip on a light in NPH’s room this afternoon. I’m sure you’re quick to judge that all my sweater’s dilemmas have happened at 713, but let’s put that out of our minds for a second, or at least until the lawsuit gets served. Some FREAK sliver of wood on his door jamb grabbed hold of my other sleeve and snagged out a noticeable thread. Sonuvabitch. (Interesting note– Wordpress recognizes “sonuvabitch” as a real word, and doesn’t put that jagged red line underneath like it’s misspelled. Curious.) So now I’m rocking this lovely deep purple sweater with TWO freak, errant threads hanging out of the forearms, almost as if to say LOOK– she can’t take care of her dog, her boyfriend, and certainly not herself. But really, I should be saying LOOK– even though I love Target like no one has ever loved a retail sore before, there’s a reason my beloved sweater was only $14.

“Well, we’ve lost ourselves a puppy,” NPH announced when he looked up from his GRE studying. Indeed, Fergus has finally passed out after entertaining himself with his various chew toys from Auntie Lo (her moniker, not mine) for far longer than you’d expect something of that size could keep going. The most adorable part was watching him make his bed (a Spongebob blanket of mine that now solely belongs to him) before settling in for what will likely be hours. Bryce just walked through with a basket of laundry and declared “Fergus Jackson is the most well-rested dog in all of Iowa!” He does sleep a lot.

Fear not, this blog will definitely not turn into Fergus Has Something to Say, and I certainly won’t become one of those dog people who starts buying him outfits and creating him a Facebook and wearing basset hound charm bracelets. I will clue you in some more, however– the dog belongs to both Neil and I, but he lives at 713. We are not “parents,” Fergus Jackson is not our “child”. Sweet Lord in Heaven I do not call myself “Mommy” to him or tell Fergus to “go play with Daddy!” when he needs to hang with NPH. My roommates have deemed themselves aunts and Natalie has called dibs on godmother status, which is all fine. But this is in no way a trial run for future children (if anything, this only reinforces the fact that I will never have them) and Fergus is much more cared for by the boys of 713 who have really stepped up, whereas I get to go home to a dog-less, squeaky toy-less apartment whenever I please. …but that’s usually pretty hard because he’s SO CUTE.

In non-furry news, t-minus only two full days before DC– pretty crazy since I’ll be going non-stop until then and be hitting the ground running immediately upon my return. The weekend after, I’ll be returning to Des Moines to help out with an event at the zoo, and the weekend after that is Halloween. No word on a costume yet– I definitely won’t be putting in as much time and thought as last year, although I do still have the costume and might just use it again since there isn’t any photographic evidence of me ever wearing it.

I’m not going to go all cooking blog on you, but I need to talk about my culinary undertakings in the past three hours for a bit. Inspired by Iowa Girl Eats, perhaps my favorite person on the Internet, I made homemade mac ‘n cheese for NPH with– wait for it– bacon and caramelized jalapenos. I know. I KNOW. My first solo attempt at any sort of homemade sauce went decently, and when I dipped in a finger even I was like, “Oh damn!” The jalapenos my mama gives me from her garden are spicy, so I cooked ‘em down in some of the bacon grease. The dish wasn’t spicy, but there was just enough bacon and jalapeno to give it a great flavor. NPH was licking the sauce out of the bowl with his finger, and his roomies later heaped on the same praise.

But that’s not all! After the mac was in the oven, I made some zucchini bread. It took a while to shred/dice the zucchini since I don’t have any sort of vegetable shredder, but it was definitely worth it. The majority of the loaf was gone 10 minutes after bringing it to 713 (while it’s true they’re kinda like goats, even this is a new record.) NPH declared “your cooking is creating a following, your Fan Club will now be demanding it.” I’ve always been generous with them on the cupcakes/ brownie mix front, but now we’ve stepped it up and are getting gourmet. I’m thinking chicken and dumplings next, though as NPH has pointed out, I’ll be out of state next weekend, thus he will most likely starve until my return. What can I say, it’s nice to be needed.

On this day, one year ago, I wrote my first post about absolutely nothing. Happy one year blogiversary to my myself! There have been 154 posts in 365 days, not too shabby considering I took a few months off to blog elsewhere about my study abroad adventures. Am I doing anything to celebrate this glorious occasion? Well it’s four-meeting Friday (it’s exactly at it sounds– even though I don’t have class on Fridays, I consistently have to be more on my game than any other day of the week) and then later I’m going to get real domestic around 713 with some bacon mac ‘n cheese for NPH and deep cleaning sparked by Bryce’s amazing job on getting the upstairs bathroom to sparkle. One of my meetings this morning was about trip to DC in six days, and it got me really excited. I’m probably more excited, however, to go shopping tomorrow for super professional clothes to wear while I’m there. I suppose you could say I celebrated this morning with a FREE bagel at Bruegger’s (the ridiculously friendly register lady hooked me up with some coupons) and Roomie Lauren said something about a pumpkin pie shake at Hamburg Inn before the weekend’s over. Ahem.

Well, here it is– the night before the last official day of my internship (I’ll be returning next weekend to help with a giant fundraising event, but school starts this Monday!) At 5 p.m. tomorrow, my car– which is currently packed full of Costco grocies, thanks Mom & Dad!– will be speeding down I-80 for my longest stay in Iowa City since December. Some days I thought this day would never come, at other times it seemed to be looming far too quickly in the future. My father asked at dinner tonight (thanks for that, too) how my summer was overall. When people ask me how I am, I usually reply “Fabulous” and they can decide whether I mean it sarcastically that day or not. But “fabulous” is about the only word I can think of to honestly describe the past three months. (Ok, “fantastic” “awesome” “super great” would all work, too.) This summer included turning 21, a trip to the hospital, one incredible trip to Vegas, some bonding with the boyfriend’s hometown, many miles logged on the half marathon training calendar, and of course– one kick ass Lady Gaga show. Sure, there were lots of times I was lonely for my friends in Iowa City, missed Germany, thought my family would drive me absolutely bat-shit crazy, and was a little bored or slightly less enthusiastic about my internship. Those times were quite few, however, and since my internship was the sole reason I was here for the summer in the first place– holy life-changing experiences, Batman. No seriously, it was that awesome. I really, REALLY love my job and I’d like to think I’m really good at it. I learned so much more and have so much more experience in journalism/ PR/ events/ design than I thought I would, and definitely more than my three years of college classes combined. The summer is not over, however– 713 will be bidding it a proper farewell this weekend, and there’s no where I’d rather be. In the meantime, I’ll leave with you some photos of one truly kick-ass summer.

Waking up in Vegas

Low potassium makes for a pokey arm

Not sure I ever told you about my new wheels...

Perez Hilton at One Night in Chicago

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