Good morning friends, family, Twitter creepers & those of you who only find this blog by searching “Avoid the Stork.” Recently I’ve gotten bangs (not really by choice, more by way of an overzealous stylist at Pro Cuts. Have you been? It costs about $12 to get your hair cut there. I am far too cheap to care enough about my hair to not get it cut for only twelve dollars), started being oddly productive on Fridays, gotten really into putting honey mustard dressing on my salads, adjusting to putting only one space after a period in sentences which is difficult and completely against everything I was ever taught for 13+ years of schooling, hitting the job search hard, and getting completely Becky Home Ec-y in the kitchen (was my mother the only one who ever used that phrase? It’s probably made up.) In addition to making homemade valentines this year, I’m also making some of the edible variety by way about one hundred sugar cookies– thanks for the cutters for Christmas, Grandma– with people’s names piped on the top. That is today’s project, I’ll be sure and report back on how it goes. I also plan on making these gems before the weekend is over, and in a perfect world I would also squeeze in a meal just devoted to these, but I’d like my pancreas to survive til Monday– Valentine’s Day, my favorite holiday. For those of you who live under a rock or need a refresher, I will be spending my V-Day evening in Moline, Illinois at perhaps the greatest show of my nearly 22 years. Making this event even more blessed is the meal I will be happily shoveling in my face beforehand. The Ozzy/Slash tickets were Neil’s Christmas gift to me, if you recall, thus my German beer hall visit is technically my Valentine’s Day present. Or so he says, but there also better be some flowers or trinkets bestowed to me throughout the day if he knows what’s good for him.

There’s no more denying that school is officially back in session, and it seems I’d forgotten how jam-packed busy the first couple weeks of each semester are. I only have two classes Monday-Thursday, none on Fridays, which I haven’t since sophomore year. I’ll only have to work four days a week in the real world, right?! Those aren’t very difficult as of yet, homework is minimal, and to say that I’ve gotten faking concentration, skimming, and summarizing down to an art form in this last semester would be an understatement. The thing that’s got me feeling exhausted only two weeks in, however, are my extracurriculars (and no, I’m not talking about those that involve elevating my blood alcohol content.) In addition to class, I have a job, an internship, and am on the executive board of a pretty big student org on campus. I realize there are scads of my peers who are in the same boat, if not even more busy, but these three things demand a lot of my attention a lot of the time. Thankfully, things for PRSSA will die down after the large event we’re putting blood, sweat and literal tears into gets over with in February. Sometimes I feel bad that my time isn’t spent focusing as much on my marketing internship as it should because I’m so busy at my actual job where I’m busy promoting our newest program, planning events, and sitting on a team to create and implement a very big pledge campaign to be revealed this summer. (And no, this isn’t meant to be bragadocious, I’m just keeping my grandma all up to date on what’s going on with my life.) I find myself not only being excited for graduation just because I’m still under the illusion that I’ll magically feel like an adult come May, but because once I do get a full-time job, there will be only one big picture item on which to devote my energy. I’m not really complaining about all the various projects I’m currently filling my time with– if anything, it’s a really great feeling to check lots of things off my to-do list every night and see concrete results once something is finished. Just letting you know, that’s what’s on my my mind.

…and for all of you Millenials over there, head on over to The Next Great Generation where it’s 90s week and you can read cool posts about Hey Arnold and stuff. I really, really liked Hey, Arnold!

Merry Christmas Eve!
As per usual, we’re at my grandmother’s house in Fort Dodge eating far too much, putting together a puzzle, and waiting until church and dinner are over tonight to get to the main show: presents. (Yeah, yeah, it’s all about giving. But you have to admit presents time is still the best time.) Hopefully Fergus is still alive at NPH’s house. My grandfather asked me yesterday, “Who do you miss more, Fergus or–” and before he could finish, I shouted, “FERGUS!!” Sorry, Neil. My favorite part of our journey North thus far was when my grandmother went out of sight by the basement stairs and shouted, “It’s just a box, not me, folks– don’t worry,” which made no sense until we heard something tumbling down the basement stairs (the box, not her.) You probably had to be here, but I thought it was amusing. When I brought NPH up here earlier this week to meet them and inquired to Grandpa as to where they got a particular set of ornaments I was admiring, he told me he was lucky to know his own name and address most days, so how the hell should he know.
Since I haven’t taken any photos yet of this joyous holiday weekend, I will leave you with this, Fergus in his Christmas sweater (from a couple weeks ago, sadly, because we are not together today):

What a diva

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.

For being officially on Christmas break, I sure have left myself a lot with much as-yet-unfinished business before leaving Iowa City tomorrow. While packing for home is the most daunting task on my to-do list, it’s surely the one that will be put off the longest. NPH, his roomies, and I are hoping to catch a showing of Black Swan in Cedar Rapids this afternoon (Fandango doesn’t show it playing in Iowa City?) I’d also like to see The Fighter sometime over break, but I feel that’s more of a kettle corn with the Pops event. Tomorrow I’m loading up the car with NPH and Fergus and heading to the booming metropolis of Fort Dodge, Iowa so that the grandparents and boyfriend can finally meet. Mostly I just want him to experience my grandmother’s house at Christmas because it’s off the CHAIN and not able to be adequately described with words. But seriously, trees in every room. And that’s not even the tip of the iceberg. Afterward, we’re headed to Adel so my mother can see Fergus again (ok, not the only reason, but definitely the one she’s most excited for. For not being exactly thrilled that we got him, T-Bone is in l-o-v-e with this dog.) Perhaps send some well wishes NPH’s way that he makes it out of this family-filled weekend alive and still sorta fond of me. Now if you’ll excuse me, Roomie Rachael made cookies last night, and I’m hoping to snag a few for breakfast. Break is quite necessary, if only for the free food.

OH AND PS– for some reason ICON is being terribly dumb and enlarged on my screen and not showing the toolbar to get to my grades. Any other Hawkeyes experiencing this? Because I’m gonna need to see how I did on my EU final like now.

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.

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.

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.

56 days til Christmas…

Halloween is probably my least favorite holiday (Valetine’s Day for some reason has always ranked #1) but this year I am inexplicably already a CHRISTMAS nutcase.

Example one: I have been listening to holiday music on Pandora for the past week.  My co-workers are quite concerned for my already questionable mental health.

Example two: I really, really wish it were possible to get all my work done in the next month and spend the entire month of December at my grandmother’s house, the most decked-out Christmas wonderland of a place that you cannot even wrap your mind around.  She’s got the tunes pumping through the house 24/7, soooo many presents, I LOVE WRAPPING PRESENTS, baking cookies, checking my stocking on the hour.  She has a tree in every room of the house (every.room.  Bathrooms, hallways, etc.)

Example three: It is currently raining.  I actually wished it were snow today.  WHAT?!  I hate the cold.  Every year I swear it gets colder and I turn into an 80-year-old curmudgeon and check on condo prices in Florida.  Bestie is often perplexed by my constant state of freezing, “You’ve lived in Iowa your entire life.  Get over it.”  My freshman year here we had TWO snow days (I still made it to work and was rewarded with fresh-baked cookies and getting off early since if there’s one thing psych patients don’t put up with– which is actually quite a long list– it’s blizzard-like conditions.)

Example four:  I am kicking myself for not stealing the giant bag of Christmas cookie cutters my mother has stored away in the basement.  I saw them when digging for possible Halloween costumes (WHERE were the pumpkin cookie cutters, mother? ARE YOU HOLDING OUT ON ME!??!)  Thankfully, Roomie is more than supportive of my holiday frenzy and I’m having grand visions of us dancing about in the kitchen, a cloud of powdered sugar rising as we dance to Bing Crosby.  Seriously, I may need a CAT scan.

I have a few theories as to why I’ve been bitten by the jolly holiday bug so early, besides my obvious love of getting gifts and eating food.

1.  Christmas last year, no offense to anyone I spent it with, sucked the big one.  Mid-November through New Year’s Eve was just one giant shitstorm of suck.  These were due to personal circumstances and my inability to maturely deal with grown-up situations, so I mostly pouted a lot and was a giant bitch to everyone.  Christmas Maniac Brittney of ‘09 promises to sing a different tune.

2.  For some reason, being off at college and all, sometimes I like… miss my family.  Que horror!  I’m getting all nostalgic about Christmas (laaaaame sauce, Brittney) and superflippinexcited to be thrust in the whirlwind of crazies-on-crazies (I say this now, but know that when there I will have sporadic urges to hurl myself off the roof.  Ahhh, family.)  Also, with my trip to ze fatherland looming two months away, I’ll have to milk my time with these people for all it’s worth.

3.  CMT has been playing Christmas Vacation, the absolute best Christmas movie of all time– no discussion, please, I am right– for no reason at all.  I don’t know that I have ever watched CMT in my life, but it was on a couple weeks ago and thankfully Bestie also has a health Clark Griswold appreciation so we WATCHED IT and it was AMAZING and he was not at all freaked out that I can do every single line from the movie VERBATIM.  And they’ve kept playing it. I even looked up CMT.com *shudder* and there was nothing on their Web site to acknowledge that playing Christmas movies in the October was anything out of the ordinary.  At least somebody there knows what’s up.

In closing… I am now going to class even though it’s pouring and even though I don’t want to go, don’t try and talk me out of it.  Boo.  BOO.  <– ooooh see, I’m still kinda in the Halloween spirit.