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.

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.

If you’re checking in for an update on my bruised behind: it might possibly be worse. It’s also shaped kinda like Massachusetts, which is fitting since most days I’m fairly certain my ass is the size of Massachusetts.

This afternoon I volunteered at the local Hope Lodge with some other girls from PRSSA. We put up their holiday decorations, which included many wreaths and figurines and strands of lights. We also assembled two trees which we then adorned with some uh, interesting artistic themes could most politely be described as eclectic. There were two guests who also participated, one who loved to decorate at home and was more than willing to put in her two cents whenever it seemed we were at a loss for how best to hang ribbon on a tree. I’m really glad we went– they had a good time, and the place looks great.

Afterward, Roomie Lauren and I got take-out sushi from Oyama, a place I forget about but is probably my favorite sushi place in Iowa City. Leprechaun roll? TO DIE. Fergus, who has been feeling under the weather lately (probably because he is a little cuss and gets into very non-edible things) joined us later to have way too much fun playing with Lauren while I made gingersnaps. Aren’t we just the cutest little family. Neil told me what he’s getting me for Christmas today (IT’S SO AMAZING) and I told him Friday (because I can’t, can’t, can’t wait for anything to save my life) and because we both got each other not so much items as experiences. What he got me (where he’s taking me?) is way better than me to him, but that’s because Slash is involved. SEE, there I go again. Jumpin’ the gun on everything.

I’ve been home on Thanksgiving Break for about 24 hours: last night I attended my aunt’s bridal shower/ bachelorette party, and today I saw the new Harry Potters movie with a handful of family members. My belly is full of sub-par pizza, and I’ve retreated to my room to really buckle down on the job search. Some sites and companies have proved slightly promising, though many are dead ends of gimmicky postings that serve as a constant, nagging reminder that any job I do get will likely be from the effort of networking and relationships instead of search engines and whispered prayers. I’ve got a few tabs open to jobs I’ll be applying for– actual cover letters instead of filling in the blanks of electronic applications.

Yet I’m finding I can’t do it. I don’t know what’s stopping me. Could it be the heartburn from that way too salty veggie pizza? (Sorry Dad, but Godfather’s really isn’t doing it for me anymore.) Could it be that I’ve been constantly reminded for the past two years that the job market is shit, and I’ll be lucky to be offered a position during the third shift on some fast food restaurant’s janitorial staff? It could very likely be that I don’t have much confidence in my cover letter-writing skills, or that I have no idea where geographically I want to work, and I still can’t articulate a real answer when my parents’ friends ask, “So what is it exactly you want to do?” I could try and BS myself into thinking that I’m just scared it’s actually going work, that I’m going to get a job and THEN what? That would be an ideal situation, and I’d hope my pansy self would be able to be first and foremost over the moon, and then address the Holy Majackas I’m Officially an Adult panic moment at the appropriate time.

Mostly I realize that I’m scared because this is the big leagues. I’m scared that being a graduating college senior came far too quickly, and I’m scared of what happens next because I don’t know what happens next. I’m scared I’ll move somewhere where I don’t know anyone, scared that NPH and I will be forced back into friendship because of long distance and that my visitation with Fergus will be relegated to the occasional photo or Skype session. I’m scared I won’t get to live with my awesome roommates anymore, and that I might have to shack up with a stranger who will stink and not do their dishes and rob me. I’m actually really quite frightened I’ll get a job I won’t know how to do, that I’ll be in there the first week and my boss will realize my hiring was a terrible mistake. There’s a litany of other things I have anxiety over– the Hawkeyes’ loss today, how fat I look in photos taken last weekend, if Fergus is going to pee on everything when he gets here later this week– but I’ll stop burdening you with my insecurities.

It’s time to write some cover letters.

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.

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.

…and of course I can’t blog today without mentioning what I’m thankful for (but seriously, every time I go to do it, the first thing that pops in my mind is a food item. Today it would have been the bomb-tastic muffins Roomie Lauren made over the weekend. I had one this morning, not really sure if I was supposed to, but I’m pretty glad I did. Way to go, Fiber One Apple Cinnamon mix.) Instead, today I am officially thankful for running. I suppose I could also say my legs. Or the random urge I got to run today. You get the idea. It’s been a while (ahemtwomonthswhaaaat?!) since I’ve gone on a run, and today’s was glorious and strong and reminded me that I can just go out and do it and not get all mentally tweaked on adding mileage every single day and calories in vs. calories out and 13.1! 13.1! 13.1! I’m sure I’ll register for another half marathon in the spring, though I’ll need to keep my head in check while training for it. With the semester I’m looking at, it’ll be a miracle if I’ll have time to breathe (exaggeration? You wish) but perhaps that’s just the sort of thing with which running can better help me deal.

Today’s friendly reminder: the Class of 2011 graduates six months from next week.

Halloween Fergus

German beer girl (way to go, Halloween clearance sale at Target!)

AhhhhhGunsnRosesAhhhhhh

Which one of these is not like the other ones?

NPH isn't one for getting all gussied up

Also, giant shout-out to Roomie Rachael who is apparently scrubbing the apartment clean this morning while I “look for jobs” (Facebook?) in the living room, waiting for Roomie Lauren to wake up who I will then assault until it’s pumpkin pie shake time. Don’t let me down today, Hamburg Inn.

Upon returning home, starving, after a day of work and class, I was greeted by my roommates discussing the merits of various desserts.
Lauren: “I don’t like angel food cake.”
Everyone else in the tri-county area: “WHAAAAAAA?!?!?”
Lauren: “I don’t know it, it’s just like, too… something.”
Rachael: “Dense?”
Brittney: “Spongy?”
Lauren: “Yes, I think it’s too spongy.”
I then had to laugh like a five year old because the word spongy reminds me of the sponge worthy episode of Seinfeld.
Lauren: “Doesn’t it have like, a web?”
Silence from the other two in the room.
Lauren: “You know how it looks like a tiny web on the inside? Or maybe that’s meringue I’m thinking of.”
Brittney: “It’s probably meringue since you have to beat egg whites. I don’t like meringue.”
Lauren: “Or maybe it’s coconut cream pie.”
Brittney: (vomits on the floor at the near mention) “I HATE coconut cream pie.” (And all coconut in general, if you were wondering.)
Lauren: “I just don’t like pie.”
Again, the entire world: “WHO doesn’t like pie?!”
Lauren: “I’m going to Google ‘web pie.’”

“Well, we’ve lost ourselves a puppy,” NPH announced when he looked up from his GRE studying. Indeed, Fergus has finally passed out after entertaining himself with his various chew toys from Auntie Lo (her moniker, not mine) for far longer than you’d expect something of that size could keep going. The most adorable part was watching him make his bed (a Spongebob blanket of mine that now solely belongs to him) before settling in for what will likely be hours. Bryce just walked through with a basket of laundry and declared “Fergus Jackson is the most well-rested dog in all of Iowa!” He does sleep a lot.

Fear not, this blog will definitely not turn into Fergus Has Something to Say, and I certainly won’t become one of those dog people who starts buying him outfits and creating him a Facebook and wearing basset hound charm bracelets. I will clue you in some more, however– the dog belongs to both Neil and I, but he lives at 713. We are not “parents,” Fergus Jackson is not our “child”. Sweet Lord in Heaven I do not call myself “Mommy” to him or tell Fergus to “go play with Daddy!” when he needs to hang with NPH. My roommates have deemed themselves aunts and Natalie has called dibs on godmother status, which is all fine. But this is in no way a trial run for future children (if anything, this only reinforces the fact that I will never have them) and Fergus is much more cared for by the boys of 713 who have really stepped up, whereas I get to go home to a dog-less, squeaky toy-less apartment whenever I please. …but that’s usually pretty hard because he’s SO CUTE.

In non-furry news, t-minus only two full days before DC– pretty crazy since I’ll be going non-stop until then and be hitting the ground running immediately upon my return. The weekend after, I’ll be returning to Des Moines to help out with an event at the zoo, and the weekend after that is Halloween. No word on a costume yet– I definitely won’t be putting in as much time and thought as last year, although I do still have the costume and might just use it again since there isn’t any photographic evidence of me ever wearing it.