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.

I’m certainly no food blogger, though I follow quite a few of them. (Stop on over and stalk Iowa Girl Eats if you want to check out the best food blog around.) Food is probably my favorite thing in the world, and one of my resolutions was to stop spending so much money on eating out and get more culinary at home. After my first day of class (uneventful), I went to Aldi for giant shopping trip since all my bare cupboard held was oatmeal and an odd amount of marshmallows my mother sent home with me after Christmas.
ALDI IS THE BEST STORE IN THE WORLD!! Price-wise, that is. You all know NPH and I are loyal Hy-Vee fans til we die, we go at least five times a week for random things he thinks he needs. However, I bought a load of food (I won’t bore you to tears by documenting it all, but it included produce, breakfast stuff, sandwich stuff, coffee, etc.) all for $33! Thirty. Three. Dollars. I was over the moon. I came home and fired up the oven to roast some vegetables (see, Rob, I’m counteracting that coleslaw in my arteries with loads of Vitamin A and potassium.) I’ve never actually roasted vegetables before, but my favorite salad at Micky’s is loaded with roasted broccoli and cauliflower, so I tried to recreate it at home. Now, when I make my next statement, some of you may be outraged, some may be filled with disbelief, but I’m going to go ahead and announce it anyway: roasted broccoli is my favorite food. In the world. I could eat it every single day for the rest of my life. I don’t think you understand this love affair. It. Is. Perfection. Sit back, ruminate on that, maybe take a minute to try and understand where I could possibly coming from.

…oh, one of my co-workers made cake balls for the office today. No, you read that right: cake balls. Little balls of cake. Dunked in almond bark. There were two kinds, carrot & red velvet, I obviously went with carrot (and perhaps had a red velvet later.) There are a few different recipes out there, but here is the best, the one I had the privilege of trying today. I’m pretty sure there’s also crack cocaine missing from that recipe, that’s how good they are. I may have referred to them as Devil Balls a few times. So really, roasted broccoli is my new favorite savory food. Cake balls can be my new favorite dessert. Because they’re BALLS of CAKE. Feel free to snicker.

I’ve been hiding something from you. I’ve been trying to hide it from myself, but I need to come clean.

I’ve had two Taco Bell $5 Buck Boxes in less than 48 hours.

I know. It’s disgusting. But so, so good. I’ve eaten at Taco Bell maybe five times total in my life. It definitely wasn’t a place we went when I was a kid, and I generally try to avoid places where food comes at you through a window. I’ve been seeing the commercials for the five dollar box for a while and didn’t give it much thought, but one day I really paid attention and was like DAMN that’s a good deal. Five items for five dollars? Enough to fill you up for hours (though might perhaps make you regret your entire life later)? Sign me up. I knew I wouldn’t be able to eat this on just any regular day though, so it’s not always been sober consumption (that makes it all the more delicious.) God bless Neil’s still-fevered soul for being my enabler, for not breaking up with me after I waxed poetic on the sheer awesomeness of the Crunchwrap Supreme for a solid twenty minutes post-meal. Arteries, I’m sorry. Thighs, I’m even more sorry. I promise I’ll cool it on meals that come packed in laptop-sized boxes. For those of you who are now morbidly curious, go to Taco Bell and try it for yourself. Get the Beefy Crunch box, not that nasty Volcano one because it’s doesn’t come with aforementioned Taco Frisbee (crunchwrap supreme.) No need to thank me, your bloated, sour cream-filled tummy will be all the repayment I need. I’m gonna go lay in one position for a very long time.

Someone found my blog by Googling “how long til adam richman gets a heart attack.” While humorous, I hope the answer is a very long time from now, or that he steps away from the eating challenges before then because I think he’s kinda cute in that lovable oaf kinda way, and Lord knows I’ve always had a thing for dark hair.

After reviewing yesterday’s post, I realized I had COMPLETELY forgotten to share with you my FAVORITE part of the trip (thus all the capitalization): MY NEW HAT.

Such a gem. So warm and…. Miller Lite-y. I wore it during a 30-second Aldi trip yesterday, and you can best bet there were a few um, glances. NPH posed a great question yesterday when, 20 minutes outside of Iowa City and over four hours into what was starting to seem like the longest car trip of my life, he asked, “How are you going to survive when we drive for 12 hours at a time going to Vegas?” Egads. My answer is that of course I won’t actually survive and he’ll have to dump my lifeless body somewhere in Durango, Colorado for D-Bag to find, since visiting him is the only reason I’m subjecting myself to the confines of a vehicle instead of a cushy less-than-three-hour flight.
In all seriousness, I did enjoy the road-tripping part of our Milwaukee trip sometimes almost as much as the actual exploring the city part (a stretch of the truth, but follow me.) We weren’t really on a time crunch to get back, so getting lost in Madison twice wasn’t really a problem, and we were able to stop off in Mt. Horeb, Wisconsin– the troll capital of the world. No seriously, that’s their town motto. Their website is Trollway.com (why the town isn’t just called Trollway, we may never know.) Obviously we had to stop, only to find out that this place thinks it’s somewhere in England because every intersection is a roundabout. They had a McDonalds so we stopped for a sweet treat (ice cream cone for her, Oreo McFlurry for him) and were baffled because I drove right past the window to pay because it was on some diagonal hidden corner of the building. The guy in the window had to shout out for me to reverse and make another attempt because OH WAIT I’m sorry, I’ve never been to a freaky diagonal Mickey D’s before. Silly trolls.
Road trips are also that magical place when you find out weird things about the person you’re traveling with, such as NPH’s complete– do I wanna say obsession here? Perhaps just love– love for Culver’s. Yeah, that Culver’s, the restaurant with the Butter Burgers. Is the part where I say ew? But sometimes we take one for the team to make our loved ones happy, so you better believe we stopped for lunch on the way back so someone could cure that Culver’s craving. In defense of his arteries, there’s no Culver’s in the Iowa City or Chicago areas, so the only time he can get it is perhaps twice a year when he ventures away from those places.

SO– to end what has become a sort of Saturday morning ramble sesh, I will answer the question probably burning in all your brains since bacon ended up in my Bloody Mary: I’ve abandoned the whole vegetarian thing. Why? Well, in a simple answer, I do like meat. Sometimes. Still not a lot, but I did find it much harder to be a veg in certain situations. I will still always pick a veggie burger over a real one because somehow Morningstar Farms has managed to find heaven and pack it into their chipotle black bean burgers. Also, not to completely rip off Marie, but I LIKE VEGETABLES!!! Also, the doctor says my iron and protein levels are low. I realize I can take supplements for that, but I could also just pick up some meat sometimes. Because there are two things I’m going to get in Vegas over Spring Break besides obliterated: In-n-Out Burger and a turkey reuben from Canter’s. And yes, I mostly posted this confession for my two vegetarian roommates who I’ve been pretty scared to come out of the meat-eating closet to because well, they can be vicious. You shoulda seen the way Rachael attacked the Wii when our marathon session of Say Yes to the Dress stopped streaming on Netflix. Ruthless, I tell you.

We went to The Fighter as a family today and it was simply fabulous. And I’m not just saying that because Mark Wahlberg has managed to catapult his way into my Top Five Celebrity Hotties, or because the kettle corn was fresh at Jordan Creek. To continue my Oscar predictions long before any nominations are made, Christian Bale will absolutely, positively win most every acting award ever for his supporting performance as Micky Ward’s brother Dicky. When the credits roll and we saw the actual Micky and Dicky, everyone in the theater was like HOLY SCHMOLIGANS because Christian Bale seriously became Dicky. The acting was just impeccable all around– the characters you’re supposed to hate, you’ll really hate– and the story wasn’t dragged out longer than needed. The feel good ending (sorry, did I just ruin it?) doesn’t hurt, and the Bostonian, Masshole accents are the icing on my New England-loving cake.

In other news, some really scientific research has led me to believe that my sanity can spend about 72 hours at home before I start itching for an escape. I mean, I love my family, but they can be at times… challenging. I realize this is not at all a problem exclusive to me, especially around the holidays, and that as I get older things will only become more testy. Perhaps making this all worse is that I accidentally grabbed NPH’s phone charger from his house so now have both of ours… and he has none. His phone is dead for at least another couple days, and I have no texting outlet who is equally as bored at home on his couch. I’ve been passing my time baking a ridiculous amount of Christmas goodies and perfecting my great-grandmothers apricot crescent cookies that will get to make an appearance again finally when we go to my grandma’s tomorrow. Unless I eat them all on the journey there in some sort of emotional breakdown over how much I miss my basset hound.

Today I finally found myself in the holiday spirit, perhaps because of the news of our Hawkeye receiver Derrel Johnson-Koulianos’ recent drug charges. (Get it? It was a cocaine joke! Don’t worry, I’ve got plenty more.) Today I finally hung up Christmas lights in our living room (and made an inappropriate lighted appendage with the remainder of the strand on the wall above our TV) and got rillll domestic in the kitchen with peanut butter balls, chocolate covered pretzels, and frosted sugar cookie cut-outs. Unfortunately, I discovered that I hadn’t stolen any of my mother’s Christmas-themed cookie cutters like I’ve done in years previous, so was left with the only other cookie cutter in our house: the aforementioned inappropriate body part. For the record, the cookie cutter belongs to Roomie Lauren, and I believe was purchased as a gag gift and/or jello shot shaping device long before I came into her life. So really, I’m the innocent one in all of today’s debauchery.

SPEAKING of debauchery, my social networking sites have been understandably blowing up with the news of DJK’s arrest. I’ve seen some quite annoying updates, some really funny jokes, and everything in between. Personally, I have no feelings beyond mild amusement. Our football team wasn’t exactly having the immaculate season we were promised, and as someone said, he’s only human. He was given superstar status and everything he could ever want here, so I shouldn’t think it’d be surprising for a guy his age to think he was invincible when it came to his off-the-field drug habits. He is certainly not the only person on campus doing these drugs or selling these drugs, but he’s the only one who will be getting this attention because damn, can he catch a football. Honestly, I feel bad for him. He made a lot of dumb mistakes, but now he has to deal with the consequences for the rest of his life. Sure he’s an idiot and should realize that his legions of fans would hold him to a higher standard than the other coked out losers roaming Iowa City, but I’m an idiot sometimes and you’re an idiot sometimes– at least we’ll probably never be a trending topic on Twitter when we get caught.

I have nothing to write about. I could complain about how obese and unmotivated I feel, or fill you in about all of Fergus’ adventures with the family for the past week. I could (belatedly) make a list of things I’m thankful for, but I’d say my Thankful til Thanksgiving thing on the blog was a big fail this year. I finished Ozzy Osbourne’s autobiography I Am Ozzy last night– it was fabulous, as I think most drug-fueled memoirs are (besides my possibly most prized possession, a signed copy of Slash’s autobiography, I also have Steven Adler’s recent book, and Nikki Sixx’s The Heroin Diaries.)
Savannah and I went to the movie Morning Glory for her birthday on Tuesday, and it was really good. Does Harrison Ford growl like that when he speaks in real life? We finished off the night by going to some Adel bars– an, um… interesting experience that I wouldn’t like to repeat more than once or twice a year. My grandmother once again hosted a kick-ass Thanksgiving, though I’m gonna get mushy here for a second when I say both Fergus and I miss NPH something awful. We’ve been trying to put together a Norman Rockwell puzzle for over 24 hours– you’d think 1,000 pieces wouldn’t be that hard with three people working on it, but you’d be wrong.
“Are you telling them how good Fergus was? Grandpa didn’t even take the paper to him once.” –my grandfather, better known as Papa John, sitting next to me. He and my grandmother are definitely my most avid blog readers, and he’s correct in that Fergus was shockingly well-behaved the whole time. They’re probably going to be disappointed at the lack of substance in this post, but I promise a better follow-up later with photos and a better attitude in general towards being out of bed.

I’ve mentioned weddings on the blog before– they were a part of my internship this summer and my apartment certainly has no shortage of ladies already thinking about theirs. Perhaps it’s because an uncanny amount of my peers seem to be getting hitched, but I’m just gonna put it all out there when I say I’ve been thinking about weddings a lot lately. I don’t feel it’s necessary to insert the disclaimer about being only 21 and hell NO my current relationship is not anywhere near even possibly the iota of a thought near anything resembling a semi-serious event involving a clergyman, but there it is for you, just in case. It’s just that– and I realize I’m playing up gender stereotypes here– I’m a girl and dammit weddings are pretty. They’re fun to look at it, they’re fun to think about, and I know for a fact I’m not in the minority on this one. Natalie and I had a classy sushi date last week, and the subject of our respective eventual nuptials came up. From what kind of ring we want, to how we want him to propose, to who we’d have in our wedding party if we were to have a ceremony tomorrow– we’d both already both put a lot of thought into it and had some pretty entertaining thought processes leading up to our decisions.

I’ve had a Knot.com account since shortly after my freshman year of college (stop laughing. I had a job that required a ridiculous amount of free time on the computer, and you have to register if you want to see all the dresses!) This summer, it became far more legitimate for me to have had this experience since I got my place of employment to be advertised as a ceremony/reception venue. One of my roommates also has one just for fun, and she gets at least one postcard in the mail a week related to wedding photography, bands, etc. I won’t rat her out, but she knows who she is. Lately, in order to prolong the inevitable, painful post-graduation job search, I’ve found myself spending shameful amounts of time on 100 Layer Cake and Green Wedding Shoes, poring over elopement posts (the way to go) and having mini-freak outs at every single cake (the CAKES! and pies… and cupcakes.)

Don’t even get me started on following real people who are planning their weddings. A classmate of mine recently tied the knot after being engaged for what seemed like forever– you can bet I did a shameful amount of Facebook stalking throughout the ordeal (but seriously, where are her honeymoon photos?) I’ve only recently discovered people who are blogging about their wedding planning experiences, for example Mary, who’s having BBQ at her wedding (perhaps I’ll have to go un-vegetarian for my reception. There WILL be German food served.) I need to stop, or perhaps just channel my obsession into something profitable. If you’re in the wedding planning business, I certainly have a large amount of free time coming up around May.

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

I’ve returned from Thanksgiving 1 of 3, a lovely weekend in Kansas City full of food, family, and that football game that I’m not going to talk about. I’m not sure what it is about Mondays, but they’ve become my most productive day of the week and when you’ll probably catch me in the best mood. Today not only did I feed someone’s parking meter that had expired, I took an impromptu trip to visit my former co-workers at the hospital. It was the first time I’d been back since leaving a month before studying in Germany– needless to say I was getting some very Twilight Zone-ish vibes considering I’d worked there nearly every day for two and a half years. It was surprisingly the same, though I’m not sure what I was expecting, which was both reassuring and kinda sad. Roomie Lauren and I just returned from dinner at Masala, a local vegetarian Indian restaurant. Yes, it was delicious and yes, I can see Indian being my new food kick for a couple weeks. On the docket for the rest of the night? Finding a job, naturally; perhaps I’ll bake 713 some autumnal treats, though that would require me leaving the couch. Today I’m thankful that my doctor talked me into getting the flu shot, and that my leg doesn’t actually need to be amputated, I just merely have a calcified hematoma (really, really bad bruise) from that terrible spill I took in DC a month ago. Seriously, it’s like I have a third knee. Lots of ice, ibuprofen, and massaging the calcium from my blood that’s collected on the area back into the ol’ veins is helping the pain, though. It’s pretty fantastic.