“When are you due?”

“Excuse me?”

“Aren’t you pregnant?  You must be having triplets or something, at least eight months along I’d guess.”

“Nope.  Just a food baby.  A pretty epic Christmas indeed.”

And THAT’S how I imagine a random conversation going in the grocery store tomorrow should I find the motivation or ability to get up from the prone position I’ve just kind of fallen into. 

SO.MANY.THINGS. happened today:

1.) My father noticed the um, crack in my laptop that’s been hanging out on the right hinge of the screen for like, I don’t know… a month or so?  Or three?  It was way worse and I kind of just popped it back in place (yep, he’s not thrilled.  I am a dumbass.)  He asked what my genius self planned to do if the screen decided to just crap out on my one day, perhaps when I’m say, ohhhh THOUSANDS OF MILES AWAY FROM HOME.  And I said “Uhh… Internet cafe?”  Wrong answer.  So now I get to decide whether to take my chances with this slightly handicapped Dell OR use some of my Christmas money to buy a new one.  I’m no math wizard, but the voices of reason in my life are gunning for me to get a new one to ensure (insure?) my sanity while abroad.  This option does not work well with my natural frugalness (parents, do NOT laugh– just because I can spend money like a drunken sailor at a strip club doesn’t mean this is something I want to spend said money on.)

2.) That guy tried to blow up that plane while landing in Detroit.  Normally, I don’t give two shits about things in the world not directly affecting me (I know, how mature of me) but this DOES alter my life, don’t you see?!?!  We fly out on Tuesday for Miami and sure as shit the FAA has already been all “We’re stepping up airport securtiy” AGAIN.  Even though everyone knows that if some guy on the news gets busted for sneaking bombs on in his shoes, the LAST TIME you’d want to repeat said manuever would be directly following said criminal activity.  Because that’s the first place they’re gonna look.  This is not rocket scientist, it is simply a childhood of a few too many Saturday morning cartoons.

3.) AND THIS IS A BIG ONE: So my friend Lauren (@laurensieben for all you Twitter freaks) was all “Yo Brittney, your blog is rad, we’re both studying abroad, let’s be rad together.”  So she and I now have a NEW BLOG that is devoted to our adventures in Europe.  (It is conveniently listed in the blogroll to your right!)  We have a lot in common–journalism majors, severe sarcasm, the wish to one day not be stuck busing tables forever, the ability to make at least two people outside of our families chuckle with our writing.  She’ll be in Spain, I’ll be in Germany.  Props to Papa K for getting creative with the doman name (Iowa Girls Gone Wild…hehe– we have no moral objections to our target audience being misguided perverts) and getting it all set up.

BUT WAIT, BRITTNEY– what does that mean for this little gem of a site?!?!  Never fear, you all know I’m much too self-serving to let my little Brittney Has Something To Say (dot com!  T-shirts available soon!) go by the wayside.  Perhaps when I’m lazy I’ll copy/paste the same post on both blogs.  There will certainly not be fresh content on both every day, or even every other– I plan on actually experiencing Europe and then perhaps filling in the details for you as an afterthought.  I haven’t actually thought that far ahead.  My main concern at the moment is what to wear home tomorrow since I’m quite certain I didn’t pack any muumuu’s big enough to cover this post-holiday girth.

Ohhh and I forget to tell you the absolute best part of today:

4.) I’m learning how to look into the webcam while Skyping instead of using it as a mirror.  Baby steps, people– baby steps.

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…

If you’ve had the sheer pleasure of knowing me in person, you are aware that I am not what one could call a fashionista, trend-spotter, or person who generally gives a shit what she looks like 80% of the time.  You might imagine my surprise then, as I mentioned yesterday, at the amount of SHIT I OWN TO WEAR.  Well today has been dedicated to sorting through this absolute mess of material, and might I say, I’ve been quite productive so far.

A good third of my closet is in a pile waiting to go to Goodwill, be burned, made into clothes for the dog– I really don’t care.  I’m quite the jeans & t-shirts kind of gal, and most of these shirts are from volunteer activities I’ve done.  Because I’m such an outstanding citizen.  And have such a personal commitment to my fellow man.  Anyway…

Another unfortunate discovery I’ve made (I’m like Jacques freakin’ Cousteau up there) is where a large portion of my income has gone in the past four-ish years (you know, besides the drugs and alcohol and paying NPH to be my best friend.) A magical yet Satanic store that sucks you in with all the PRETTY, sparkly things (Gisele & Heidi certainly don’t hurt their cause) and then wa-BAM hundreds of dollars later you’re having to decide between rent or groceries: Victoria’s Secret.  I’m just going to give it straight to you here, dear reader: I have 75 pairs of underwear.  Yep.  At one time I had more, but I usually lose one or two a month when they’re ripped to shreds in the heat of a Saturday night post-bar close heavy petting session.

(Is she kidding?  Is she not kidding?  That was pretty inappropriate.  I wonder what kind of a mother raises someone who says those things.  Who even uses the phrase ”heavy petting”?  That was just gross.  I might stop reading her blog altogether now…. Though she was probably kidding.  I’ve seen her at a bar in the wee hours of the morning– there’s no way that face and those dance moves could lure anyone back to her apartment.)

ANYWAY– so my point is, Victoria’s Secret should cut me a check for the hundreds of dollars of revenue I’ve pumped into their brightly-lit smelly-good stores.  I’ve made pretty good headway separating clothes into piles for the cruise, going to Grandma’s for Christmas, and even some for Germany.  Unfortunately somewhere along the way I got distracted and started trying on my old prom dresses (those bitches still fit HELLSYES.  Obviously this is permission to drink more) and then just generally dancing about my room to ridiculous music I never knew was on my iPod.  So as I said, super productive morning.

You may be wondering how tea went last night.  It was fine.  I’m not supposed to talk about the things I may or may not have seen or heard or been a part of.  I will give Melissa a shout-out though (a loyal reader)– she was there, and asked about NPH, and told me that she just knows he and I are soulmates so almost got punched in the face, but that would have just really brought down the mood of the gathering.  Props to Michelle for letting us shovel food feeding Kayla and I.

In three lovely hours (hopefully more packing, less eating and Family Guy) T-Bone will be driving the brother and I up to Grandma’s house to start the ol’ holiday festivities.  HOPEFULLY (hint hint) we get to open a present early and I just happen to pick a box that’s Webcam shaped and ohmygosh I’m totally surprised I totally forgot asking for a Webcam oh wait now I’m SO PSYCHED because I can Skype all my friends back in IC.  I mean that’s just, you know, something that could happen that I’d be okay with happening.

“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.

Am I supposed to take shampoo & conditioner to Germany or buy it when I’m over there.  SO MANY LITTLE CONUNDRUMS!! I got my housing assignment and boy howdy am I excited.  I’ll be in dorm-style living (own room, but sharing a kitchen/living room/bathroom… I think, I actually just made up the majority of that information) with… drumroll please… 3 males and another female.  *Cue angels singing.  On my housing information sheet, I let the peeps over in Germany aware of my penchant for getting along with guys better.  My mother says this will be excellent practice for hopefully living in 713 next year.  My father did not have much to say, except to bring me back to reality when I was SUPER PSYCHED about the super low cost of rent.  “Wow, four months to live there will cost about what I pay for only two months rent in the States!”  He then kindly pointed out that the lower sum was in Euros.  Drat.

Neil’s happy ass is speeding (correction: driving at exactly the speed limit) down I-80 towards central Iowa as we speak.  He could probably get here much earlier, but for some reason drives as if he already has his AARP card. 

T-Bone has spent the morning putting up MORE Christmas shit decorations, stringing lights on the tree, that sorta thing.  We watched the Biggest Loser: Where are they Now special which made me feel only slightly more like a beached whale than I already did after this week of holiday indulgences. 

I toats-mcgoats forgot that Friday is our PRSSA downtown social (read: bar crawl) which is kind of my job to plan.  We decided to forgo (forego?  Google says it can be either) bar crawl shirts and instead will be wearing ugly holiday sweaters.  Thankfully if there’s one thing my house has plenty of, it’s hideous holiday wear.  Now to plan the list of establishments to patron, which will really only hold up for maybe the first three bars.  After that everyone either stays or goes to their favorite place, goes home pissed off and sober, goes home pissed off and drunk, finds a hook-up for the night and abandons the crawl, gets a hankering for Mesa pizza and abandons the crawl, or gets arrested.  Not all, though some of these, have happened to me in the past.  I have never successfully been on a bar crawl start to finish.  Friday will guaranteed be no exception. 

Oh, and by the by, I MISS THE SHIT OUTTA MY IOWA CITY FRIENDS.  We have been apart for eight days.  Take that times about 15 (a conservative estimate of how many days we will be apart spring semester) and you have one extremely sad Brittney.  You know that saying, what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger?  BS.  I heard an alternate saying a few years ago: what doesn’t kill you makes you want to die.  I’ve always preferred that one.  While not exactly applicable in this situation, it melodramatically spotlights how I will be feeling.

Now I must leave you to go “take inventory” of the amount of alcohol we have in the basement and see if we need to go buy more before the classy family BBQ tonight.  I feel a trip to the store is in order.

Dad just asked why exactly I’m going abroad again.  “You won’t be able to see this face for five months!”  Well, it’s more like four…  My impending exit is on many people’s brains lately– when I go back to Iowa City I will have THREE WEEKS to find a subleaser, pack my apartment, finish classes, take a final, and say peace out to those I love most.  So you know, piece o’ cake. 

Barring natural disaster or terrorist attack, Bestie will for sure be having the sheer privilege of visiting on Saturday.  He and Lauren are the two people I will miss most in Iowa City.  She will be in my wedding, one of those classy bitches I can see being in my twenties with, swirling martinis and complaining about the lack of men in our lives whilst lamenting the size of our upper arms. 

My mother has officially turned into her mother.  Christmas vomit has covered every inch of our house, including the bathroom off the kitchen where a patriotic Santa the size of a toddler is just hanging out next to the shower and it scares the BEJEEZUS out of me everytime I go to relieve myself.  Neither of the trees are up yet and I plan on not being in or near the house when it gets to be that time.  I’ve seriously contemplated converting to Judaism because I am so that person who has a tree up 365 because I’m too gd lazy to take the thing down.  I feel that eight pronged candelabra thingy would be much easier to stuff in a closet.

Two days til Thanksgiving which means today I’m thankful for heat.  This elusive element is something I’ve heard other houses have, but apparently we haven’t caught on yet around here.  Supposedly there’s one of those fabled “heaters” in the basement, but it must be broken or something.  I mean, why else would could we hang meat in the living room like it were an effin’ butcher shop?  I think I’ve experienced this feeling called “warm” sometime during the summer, but my brain is half-frozen so it’s hard to remember.  Perhaps Grandma’s house will be liveable without socks, longjohns, and a down parka.

Congratulations, you’ve been awarded a study abroad scholarship!  What a sweet way to start my day.  It’s not like I’m getting handed thousands of dollars to learn how to sprechen, but my program is throwing a couple Benjamins my way to lighten the load that feels pretty heavy given my penchant for going downtown every chance I get often.

T-Bone’s playing arts and crafts time in the kitchen currently, glueing some shit to a giant map of the world for some fundraiser for church.  If she’d like to move said map out of the way of the pantry, I could eat lunch, mmmkay?  Thanks.  Christmas carols are also wafting from the living room (Norman Rockwell ain’t got nothin’ on this family.) 

Later I will be baby-sitting my neighbor boys who I haven’t seen in eons.  They’ll probably be taller than me and think I’m the lamest person on earth, but whatever.  I changed them diapers once upon a time, ya hearrrd?  The worst part is, at least the older one has definitely learned how to tell time, so I can’t pull the old “OMG IT’S SO LATE, time for bed!” when the sun has barely set.  Yep, I was definitely that baby-sitter.  Should God have a lapse in judgment and have me bear kiddies, I will most certainly be that mother as well.

Ick, it’s basketball season.  I pure straight hate basketball. 

AND NOW KIDDOS, democracy in action.  Or at least an awesome example of where some very public bitching will get you: the hospital is canceling it’s dumb dumb dumb program to solicit donations from patients.  As avid, loyal readers of this, my dear blog baby, you are all well aware that I was not exactly a fan of the proposed plan.  I’m sure my well-thought, eloquent, and completely level-headed opinions against it were weighed heavily by the geniuses behind it.  HA.

It rained, meaning the outside of my car is clean, so I DETAILED the inside as well.  I hadn’t so much as vacuumed it since April.  There was still a bunch of grass and straw on the floor from when I mud-wrestled at VEISHEA (ohhhh boy, if I had only been blogging then!)  It also smells like cupcakes because I put in a brand spankin’ new air freshener.  So basically, I’ve been more productive today than I’ve been all week.  Go me!

I’m off to go make pie crust for the mother (she’s what one would call Pie Crus’tarded, and yes, that’s a real word.)  She’s going to make three pumpkin pies, for like, other people.  Pffffffffff.  What is this, the season of charity?!  Oh speaking of, I feel SO GUILTY when I go by those Salvation Army bell-ringers.  So I guess today I’m thankful for, you know, the stuff everyone’s usually thankful for.  Warm house/apartment, family, money, food, friends, real Charlie Brown-type stuff.  Oh, and the fact that KAYLA AND SAVANNAH are coming tonight!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  See Mom, I do have female friends.