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

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.

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…