So it’s the Friday of Homecoming weekend. I am home at 10:30 p.m., have cleaned the kitchen of the catastrophic chili mess I made earlier, and am now in my pajamas trying to drink enough water to counteract the near life threatening amount of sodium that was in the sweet potato fries I had for dinner. This sudden sober clarity got me thinking on a few points, and since this is my blog, here I go a-sharin’:

First of all, this was not exactly my preferred place to ring yet another home Hawkeye football weekend. You best believe I ventured out with friends this evening, looking kinda tranny-ish, definitely with a goal in mind of sleeping most of the day away tomorrow. However, there are so many old people here. Sorry, but I’m just putting it bluntly– the amount of Baby Boomer alumni crawling the streets is just absurd. The amount of people crammed into the bars, even the shitty ones, is even more absurd. There was no space for anyone long before 9:30 p.m., and even if there were, I wasn’t about to stand in line for half an hour every time I needed to refresh my drink.

It’s not like I needed to drink tonight. It wasn’t a close friend’s birthday, and I had neither anything to celebrate nor feel overly morose about. It’s just something that happens within the brain of 85% of the students here– it’s Friday at 4 p.m., I’m going to get hammered tonight. Sorry if I’m perpetuating any negative stereotypes of my school, but I was seriously giving this a lot of thought as I scrubbed my counters a few minutes ago: we drink because we’re Hawkeyes. We drink because of the reputation that precedes us. It is not, as some apparently suspect, because we’ve so long been able to get into bars at the age of 19. The 21 Ordinance, put into effect on June 1st of this year, is going back on the ballot for the general public to vote upon in November. There’s been a huge push on campus this week to vote early– not on how to vote, just to make sure that yours counts. I’m going to vote Yes, to strike down the ordinance. There’s plenty of signs around town urging us to “Vote Yes for Safety!” While most of these are in the windows of shops that make tons of money off our drunk asses around bar close, I do have to agree that the house party culture since the ordinance passed is far less than ideal. Personally, I’m not voting yes because I think 19 and 20 year olds have some constitutional right to be in a bar with the 21+ crowd after 10 p.m. Aside from the safety thing, I’m voting that way because some seniors voted that way when I was a freshman. We shan’t go into how my life would be different should it have gone into effect three years ago, but I shudder, cringe, and shed a tear at the thought. Quite frankly, there’s some damn good specials now, and cover is basically non-existent. I like that the bars are less crowded, but it’s the principle of the thing. The ordinance overall affects me very little, so I’m going to do my fellow underage drinker a favor, just like the former fellow underage drinker did before me.

But back to our reputation. There have been numerous campaigns in my four years on campus to curb binge drinking, perhaps one new catchy slogan every fall. This year it’s the Think Before You Drink movement. Has anyone seen any actual data that these yearly pushes to give students fun and sober alternate weekend activities is working? I’m certainly not trying to say that the amount of alcohol any given 21 year old senior consumes in a three day period at Iowa is at all healthy or something to boast about, I’m just trying to be realistic. If the president wants to really make some sort of effective change, the entire school is going to need a national, and most certainly statewide, re-branding. If the 21 Ordinance sticks, and I won’t exactly be unable to sleep at night if it does, that is the first foreseeable step, to me, in getting rid of our ridiculous drunken reputation. If we lose that stigma and essentially just become a house party central like Ames (but with more hipsters) students won’t feel the need to drink up to the blood alcohol contents of the alumni before them.

I realize I have organized my thoughts quite poorly, that I have probably often contradicted myself, and mostly just made my relatives quite concerned for my liver, wallet and waistline. I just don’t think that other college students have the same drinking culture that we do in Iowa City, certainly no one else in Iowa does, and it’s definitely something worth looking at. Perhaps I’m just that girl who can’t say no, who doesn’t realize it’s all in her control to stay in on a Friday night and not be in a stink about it. Perhaps my friends are all just a bunch of drunkards, and come May I’m in for the reality check of my life. For the record, my grades are just fine, I’m performing fabulously at both my job and internship– from the student perspective, I don’t see a problem with our campus-wide drinking habits. It’s just curious when you take a step back, as to why we have such extreme habits. That’s all.

Day Two: Nine things about yourself
…this whole blog is about myself, so I’ll try and get creative with things you haven’t heard. They won’t be “I’m watching Forgetting Sarah Marshall right now” (which I am) or “I skipped class today” (which I did.) Hey, I turned in my assignment first.

9. My favorite beer changes often, but it’s currently Boulevard Wheat, extra points if served with a slice of lemon. Do NOT confuse this with Boulevard Pale Ale which is what I imagine fermented chalky piss to taste like if it were to be bottled and distributed at the local HyVee Wine and Spirits.
8. Lunch is my favorite meal of the day. It used to be breakfast, but somehow the noon-day eating has really taken hold of my heart. Perhaps because once you’ve eaten lunch, it’s more socially acceptable to just keep snacking into the next meal.
7. I don’t like s’mores. I don’t like the three things that make up s’mores (unless the milk chocolate is in the form of M&Ms and then well, all bets are off, buddy) though I have had s’more Pop-Tarts and can’t say I hated them. Anything with that much partially hydrogenated oil is guaranteed to be yummy, though.
6. I no longer have a key to 713. This hasn’t really affected me in the least, and I voluntarily surrendered it to one of our friends who is parking his car in their driveway for the year. (Are you paying them for that, Jordan?)
5. My current roommate situation is the first I’ve been really diggin’. I like the dynamic of living with two other people instead of just one. We’re only about a month in so this could change, I suppose, but Vegas is already booked bitches (166 days!)
4. Speaking of roommates, we’ve all been given nicknames. I was probably at 713 during this process, thus just came home one day to the name “Bitch Duck” in block letters taped to my door (I’m told it’s from an episode of Family Guy.) The others are named Ho-Train and Skankasaur– our first names are merely formalities. On the first day of class when my professor told us to shout out during roll call if we preferred to be called something else, every fiber in my body was screaming “Call me Bitch Duck!” But instead I just corrected her about the pronunciation of my last name.
3. I have really good pitch, singing-wise that is. Or so I’ve been told. And so I’d like to think when belting Katy Perry and speeding down I-80. But seriously, collegiate music majors have told me this. Homegirl can saaaaang.
2. Horrible acne. Even at age 21. What?! I figured one of these nine should be horribly TMI.
1. The song One Night in Bangkok makes me so, so happy. Like, deliriously so. What a silly, fun song. I realize this was a very anti-climactic #1, but it’s really the most on-my-mind thing as of late. Besides pretzel M&Ms, of course.

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!!!

Yep, I said it. I feel old. Today is the last day of my last summer vacation ever, and I’m not sure it even counts because I have a meeting later for which I’ll have to at least shower and leave the house. Iowa City is once again overrun with just bodies: bodies in the streets, bodies in droves pouring out of the liquor stores, tomorrow bodies getting lost, meeting for Mesa, cramming the Cambuses. I refuse to believe I’m one of these bodies, that I’m some how removed from the masses and am better than their mundane summer stories and 21-ordinance griping. I have a very “been there, done that” attitude, and I’m secretly kinda let down that I’m old enough to buy my own beer. We’re now entering the Get a job, get a job, get a job phase– no, thanks. If I’m told one more time that the job market has us all fucked from the get-go, I will scream and secure my sleeping bag space under the Benton Street bridge. I hadn’t given class starting tomorrow even a minutia of a thought until I had an inbox full of emails from professors with attached syllabuses. There’s so much reading. One of my professor is taking attendance. I have to give a speech on my first day of class tomorrow. Apparently I’m quite enjoying the bold HTML function today. Quite frankly, I feel completely overwhelmed. Three months of carefree summer loving has been beaten to a bloody pulp by course packs, a schedule already full of appointments, and general chest-gripping panic attack-inducing anxiety. So basically I’ve gone from feeling old (yes, I wrote the first part of this post this morning, pre-wheretheeffdidsummergo breakdown) to feeling incapable and infantile and stressed. I promise that was my last bolded word for today.

Lollapalooza was Gaga. And by that I mean, the whole reason I went to Lolla this year was for Her Majesty herself. I took a much more relaxed approach to the festival than last year, not to mention I had many more friends to hang out with at places other than the event itself. It’s guaranteed I’ll have issues anywhere porta-potties are the only means of relieving myself, but thankfully there were no major incidents or lack of toilet paper to report. I can’t really go into a full-on review of Gaga’s show because mostly my mind was just blown, but as everyone afterward said, it was a performance. Homegirl had some serious angst from performing at Lolla three years ago when she was a nobody and being told she’d remain so– there was a lot of shouting and “F You’s!” to the proverbial man. There were also a lot of parents who brought their kids (we’re talking 8-12 year olds) which was super inappropriate. Other than that, Green Day was good– everyone after Gaga just reminded me I wasn’t at Gaga (yes, it’s more than obsession.) Upon my return to Iowa City, I finished moving into my apartment and decorating my room. I was pleasantly surprised by how much stuff I brought back from Germany to brighten up the place, feel free to come over and check it out sometime. I only have ONE WEEK left at my internship, which honestly I’m pretty excited about, only because that means school starts afterward and I’m oddly psyched for routine life to start again. Oh– so I was introduced to Great Harvest Bakery this weekend. No, my life will never be the same; yes, I definitely ate more than one scone. WHYYYY don’t we ever get the cool places to come to Iowa??

Blogging from NPH’s kitchen– his mother made homemade blueberry muffins with streusel topping, add her to the list of things I love. Chicago is an absolute madhouse this weekend, not only because of Lollapalooza but because the weather is gorgeous AND Obama was in town the past couple of days. We didn’t see him, but every member of the Chicago police department seemed to be lining Michigan Avenue. As you may know, I am an avid reader of Perez Hilton’s blog– I don’t care if you judge me or hate him, he is one faboosh flaming former fatty. Anyway, he puts together “One Night In…” concerts when he’s in a city, and last night was a One Night in Chicago show to informally kick off Lolla. GUESS WHO WON TWO TICKETS?!?! Judging from the amount of capital letters in that last sentence, I hope you guessed ME! I invited the ol’ boyfriend to be my plus one, and we headed to the Hard Rock Hotel yesterday afternoon to get our wristbands. Doors were supposed to open at 8:00, we got in line behind about 20 or 30 people at 7:30 and were finally let in a little after 8:30. That hour of standing of people watching along the Magnificent Mile was both hilarious and slightly depressing in that I will never be that thin, have that big of a wardrobe budget, and be able to walk that far in that high of heels on a Thursday night while living my swank entry-level PR job in a major metropolitan area. Not that I really want to. We got inside, found a bar, ordered two drinks (specialty ones named like “Blogger Bomber” and other Perez-related stuff) then found out… wait for it… it was an open bar. That’s right ladies and gentlemen of my readership– FREE BOOZE. All night. UV Vodka was one of the sponsors– needless to say, we were pumped. Don’t think I went all balls to the wall, though (because one, there was no beer anywhere) but two, I needed to say alert and pumped for the Jump Smokers DJ Set, Nneka, J Brazil, Lissie, Kid Sister, and B.o.B. Now the only one in that line-up I’d even heard of was B.o.B. (damn that “Airplanes” is catchy) but I can honestly say they were all AMAZING. I won’t go into detail on each, but I was honestly impressed– Perez can pick some musicians. I ran into a fellow Hawkeye I was in PRSSA with who confirmed that Lady Gaga was indeed supposed to make an appearance (I KNEW it) but cancelled. Bummer. But not that big of a bummer because I’ll be seeing her tonight at Lolla, granted probably hundreds of yards away instead of literally ten feet. Oooh– we’re catching the train back into Chicago now. The train reminds me of Germany, sad; the buildings remind me I could never live in this giant of a place.

Did the lack of potassium kill her?!?! Nope, I just kinda forgot I had a blog there for about a week.  The good news is, I went back to the doctor and my electrolyte levels are back to where they need to be– no more health-related posts!!  NPH not only visited me at work when he got into town on Friday, but was also quite impressed when I introduced him to Famous Dave’s.  We made the trek to Adventureland Saturday morning– holy humidity, Batman– and the first four parking lots were already full when we pulled up 20 minutes after it opened.  Also, turns out the parking stand people only take cash which presents a few problems for college students who are slaves to their debit cards and don’t put much time into pre-planning their theme park day trips.  After making it through the gates and gooing on a ridiculous amount of sunscreen, we headed off to wait in line for the Raging River (I.HATE.LINES.)  Neil was previously a security guard at Six Flags so proclaimed “This is nothing!” as I whined about it for the duration.  All our loitering did provide ample time for people watching which is usually interesting, though watching and eavesdropping on the crowd at the biggest attraction in Altoona, Iowa made me more sad than intrigued.  When we finally got to the front of the line, three teenage boys from Kansas City, Missouri were also in our tube (how do I know this?  They introduced themselves.  And it only got better from there.)  I felt kind of bad for them because they were at the peak of social awkwardness in their lives– voices were cracking, whiteheads were ripe for the popping, hive fives were given after one of them got particularly splashed when we rammed into a wall.  ”Dude, you sooo have to give Brenna a hug after this.”  ”Ohmygod no, dude– she’d so kill me.  Haha dude you’re right, I’m so gonna get Brenna all wet.” My definition of the seventh circle of hell?  Close.  We rode a few roller coasters after that which weren’t as thrilling as I remember them being as a child, though Neil laughing maniacally next to me as I screamed for Jesus to save me before I surely plummeted to my death was a new couple-y experience.  After lunch (who knew they served beer at Adventureland?!) and NPH’s first funnel cake (which was GROSS, but the poor thing hasn’t been to the State Fair yet so still deemed this nasty imposter cake delicious) the humidity rose as our patience for the screaming children around us tanked.  Somehow we found ourselves in a  bar watching the USA lose the World Cup game to Ghana, then may have ended up at my house to drink more and watch Step Brothers. I know the first half of that damn movie by heart, but since there’s always a case of some cheap domestic brew involved, the second half of the movie is kind of hit-or-miss for me.  After two days of work, I spent my day off today helping my grandparents get their garden ready for a garden tour in a week or so.  And by “helped” I mean kinda spray-painted some stuff, wandered the house, ate a weird amount of chicken salad for not liking mayo, and then tried unsuccessfully to fix their printer.  Productive day?  Oh my yes.

My alarm will go off in six short hours, but I’m much too excited about the Harry Potter theme park-centered Spring Break road trip I’ve decided to go on to get any sleep.  As NPH pointed out, there will be many great hole-in-the-wall barbecue joints between here and Orlando.  I need to start breaking my paycheck down into Rent/ Booze/ Spring Break. Apparently I should also be saving heavily for life post-college,  but I don’t see much room for that in the aforementioned list.

Yes, this post is evidence that I did indeed survive my weekend of post-21st birthday celebrations in Las Vegas.  A grand time was had by all, save for perhaps our livers and wallets.  I gambled for the first time in my life, perhaps $4 total into penny slot machines, and made not a cent of it back.  Our flight from Omaha to Vegas on Thursday afternoon was delayed three hours due to a broken hydraulics system in the plane just before take-off. While we were less than thrilled, Southwest then provided free booze when we finally were airborne– not a bad deal at all.  Unfortunately we began to think we were slightly jinxed when our limo tour around town also went kaput (thankfully on an exit ramp) and a few other transportation-related annoyances that are now a bit hazy to recap.  Clearly we didn’t let any of that stop us and made it to IN-N-OUT BURGER, the super swank nightclub Tryst in the Wynn, Fremont Street, the hotel pool, THE HOFBRAUHAUS, and the Hard Rock Hotel bar a few more times than you might have thought possible.  One of my friends in my program while in Germany lives in Vegas and was able to meet us at the Hofbrauhaus!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <–that’s how I excited I was.  We had the best time, and the menu was surprisingly authentic, though the music was not (“Sweet Home Alabama” isn’t exactly a crowd favorite in Deutschland.)  NPH loved the German beer and my favorite mustard so I guess I’ll keep him around for a while.  I’ve been trying not to think about how it’s only been a month since I’ve been back because it feels like a lifetime ago, and sometimes I have dreams where D-bag’s in ‘em or I’m speaking in German and I get very sad.

OVERALL, Vegas = giant success.  I’m both pants-pissing excited and a bit fearful of future roomie Lauren living there after graduation; I’ve been there three times in as many years and don’t see any reason to discontinue the trend.  Perhaps I’ll  branch out from getting sickeningly stuffed on Canter Deli’s turkey reuben every time I go (not likely) or stay at the Paris on my next visit so breakfast can come from their bakery case every morning (has to happen.)  Hopefully the bartenders at the Hard Rock don’t have that quick of a turn around rate since I’m now on first name basis with a few (shout-out to Greg and Joe, and yes, I’m name-dropping.)  While I’m still love love loving my internship, the next countdown is now set for Lollapalooza: I’ll be seeing Lady Gaga in exactly two months.  <There’s not a squeal loud enough to insert here.>

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.

I’ve returned home from Iowa City one night earlier than scheduled, due to an oncoming wretched cold/ my cousin’s graduation party tomorrow.  While I of course enjoyed myself, it was an interesting glimpse into some growing pains I’m sure to encounter over the next three months.  Wednesday was my first day of, “What a lovely American visit this has been, get me back to Germany now.” Once I start my internship (MONDAY!!) my mood is sure to improve because quite frankly, I’m bored outta my gourd.  NPH’s birthday party was a rousing success– I introduced a few of the well-dressed attendees to German beer, and the cake and cupcakes were merely a memory shortly after the last bars of “Happy Birthday” were flatly sung.

Yeah, it was Funfetti. Feel free to hire me for your next party

The two-hour drive between Iowa City and home is sure to be the bane of my summer 2010 existence.  Come to think of it, so will the drive to and from my place of employment– completely on the other side of Des Moines, a journey that will often be made with the other 9-5ers trucking into the city from the suburbs.  (Ok, I’m KINDA really looking forward to being one of these under-caffeinated, overly aggressive commuters, but I feel it will quickly get old.)  Maybe I’ll become an avid player of morning radio show contests.  I’m also entertaining romantic daydreams of wearing professional office attire, then fielding many text requests from various family and friends to meet them for post-work dinner or drinks.  This glamorous dream-life I’ve created for myself is helpful during instances like today’s commencement exercises at Iowa.  The campus was overrun with seniors in their caps and gowns, parents looking horribly out of place and furtively glancing about like, “I’m in Iowa City, I could get puked on at any moment.”  Most of my friends have made several comments about how that’s going to be us in a year: Ohmygod we were just freshman yesterday/ I’m not ready/ let’s all drop out, grow beards, and start an alternative community in one of the lesser-populated Western states.  Surprisingly, I have not yet joined them in their panic, and am instead quite excited to become gainfully employed immediately post-college (because don’t you know, journalism majors are in such hot demand right now …) and start my shockingly cosmopolitan life in an equally cosmopolitan metropolis somewhere.  Oh, Sex and the City, you are so setting me up for quite the slap in the face later from the real world.