My suitcases are full, the Post-It lists on my wall are mostly checked off, the Hawkeyes are on TV in six hours.  I’ve been much calmer today than anticipated, kind of like the night before studying for a final when you just can’t care anymore about what grade you’re going to get.  I did have one mild to moderate breakdown (not for any particular reason, though being in a cemetery may not have helped) in which I found myself in a vehicle with no tissues and resorted to using my new scarf to wipe the streaming snot from my face.  But other than that, pretty freakin’ excited.  The German foreign exchange student my brother went to prom with lives in the town I’ll be studying in and although (I’m fairly certain) we never met, she’s excited for me to come and show me around and take me out on the town.

Internship application 3/3  was sent today, the one I’m most excited about, the one I’d PEE.MY.PANTS. if I got.  Maybe I’ll get ambitious and apply for more while abroad (HA).  Apparently with my spending habits, I need to find more than 10-15 hours at a sandwich place a week  to supply some cashflow.  I’m predicting around mid-March or April I’ll start freaking about my nebulous summer plans, don’t worry– I’ve accepted my self-diagnosis of CRIPPLING NEUROSIS.  I think when my mom and I went to the mall last week and I wouldn’t go up and ask the hair salon lady if I could get an appointment she realized that her daughter is a social FREAK (perhaps a new spin on the blog could be WhatMentalIllnessIsBrittneyOnTheCuspOfToday.com)

NPH keeps telling me to calm the truck down (<–see?  2010 resolution of swearing less), that “everyone loves Americans” (blatant lie) and “you’ll make friends so fast you’ll freak” (blatant Jimmy John’s rip-off.)  I’m no longer talking to him however because currently he and three other of my good friends are drunk in Miami for the Orange Bowl.  When he asked if I was just “chilling all day” and I said AREYOUHIGH today might be one of the most critically busy days of my life he responded “Oh yeah.  Well I just have drinking and football.”  I’m just SO happy for you.

My layover tomorrow in Chicago is four hours long.  I will not have a cell phone, thus it’s really a crapshoot as to whether I’ll have my sanity.  My trusty shiny new blue laptop will be with my however so I will be blogging, Facebooking, Twittering up a storm– how excited are YOU?!

Only THREE MORE HOURS til our plane takes off from Miami.  Have I mentioned how much I loathe all things associated with flying?  I like travel, just not the getting there.  The cruise was great, quite warm.  Perhaps I’ll post pics later.  I’m currently watching a boy of about four or five pelt his younger brother with stuffed animals whilst wrestling about in front of a Pizza Hut in the Miami International Airport.

For the next 48 hours I’ve pretty much accepted that I will be in meltdown mode, remembering forgotten things I should pack for my semester abroad, being extremely short with family members, trying to enjoy watching the Hawkeyes win the Orange Bowl but being jealous of my friends who road-tripped down to see it in person.  Once I’m on the plane I should be fine (oh, who am I kidding– two hours into it my legs will have severely cramped and I’ll be debating whether or I can hold it or should I ask the person next to me to move AGAIN so I can go to the bathroom.)

My horoscope today told me to exercise.  Boy howdy I wish it were acceptable for me to start doing laps through the H concourse.  After two weeks of constant eating and very little activity, my body is screaming for elevated heartrate brought on by something other than OH SWEET JESUS WHERE DOES ONE BUY A WATCH BATTERY IN THE GREATER DES MOINES AREA SO I CAN TELL THE TIME WHILE 30,000 FEET ABOVE THE ATLANTIC?!  Yes, people– these are my thoughts.

I must go find a Starbucks now or just stretch my feet or probably let little brother have time on my laptop (thanks Google for the free wireless.)

Nine days.  I’d sell my soul to be there now.

We’re flying out earlier than expected for our cruise tomorrow.  Miami will be nice.  I will have no connection with the world (Facebook, blogging, cell phone) for like, a lot of days.  And then only one full day in between flying back and flying out for Germany.  My room is beyond a wreck (not on purpose, contrary to apparent popular belief) with boxes, clothes, suitcases, lots more clothes, Christmas gifts.  It’ll be weird celebrating New Years on a ship with strangers and my family.  Hopefully there will at least be champagne.

I got new glasses today.  And my digital camera from Christmas finally came (thanks, Grandma!)  There’s nothing really great to put up pictures of yet, but you can bet there’s much bigger excitment to come.  That’s all for today, folks.  I will spare you my shit-tastic mood.

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.

Day two = poo!

Sorry for the childish rhyme, had to get it out.

WHERE did I get so many clothes?!  The amount of shirts, jeans, dresses, skirts, shoes,  belts (<– hehe I do own some, never wear them, sorry to those of you who have been casualties of that one) is beyond ridiculous.  And if you asked me right now, of COURSE I need new clothes.  I don’t wear most of what I have, and while I often go through my closet to give stuff away, I tend to keep a lot of things for hypothetical situations that happen at most twice a year (i.e. intense cardio, high class afternoon tea with government officials, job shadowing an auto mechanic.) It is ALL currently dumped on the floor in my room (and has spilled into the hallway) and I have no plans of organizing anything before I leave (I bet you $1,000,000.50 that my mother just read that and shouted at my somewhere in the house something about ‘Get your ASS upstairs and hang up that stuff.  I’m not going through it when you’re gone.’).  There will be two piles: cruise, Germany.  Luckily I’m much more prepared for the cruise since all of my “going out” clothes for IC don’t involve much material, I have zero idea how much/what I should be packing for Europe.  I plan on just wearing my 713 shirt day in and out until people stop trying to befriend me and start whispering behind my back about “the smelly American who bursts into tears at the mention of bratwurst or Miley Cyrus.”  I’m really planning on making quite the international reputation for myself.

DO.YOU.KNOW. where I’m going tonight?  Wine Tea.  Not just any tea, THE TEA my mother attends every Monday night with a handful of friends.  They only call it “tea” because, I don’t know, they don’t want everyone to know there’s anything BUT tea flowing, and that the conversations are much more tame than “I’m going to smack my child <insert name> because they are such a <insert deragatory adjective> and while I’m at it, so is <insert name of significant other.>” (Haaa, I kid… kind of.)  My brother calls it the DMC — Drunken Mother’s Club– but that’s not very nice.  I suppose what they’re doing is no different than what NPH and I do on a nightly regular basis, or why Lauren and I get together usually once a week and bitch about our lives and our lack of male attention and ever-increasing waistlines.  ANYWAY– I’m pretty pscyhed for this because 1.) I freakin’ love those ladies.  They are bat shit crazy, in the nicest way possible.  2.) I will be getting out of this house.  3.) They will be all “Oooh fresh meat” and ask me questions about myself– and I hope you’ve all realized by now, I’m my number one favorite topic– that will probably center around “WHO is this Neil kid and WHEN are you getting married?!?!?!”  And then I will calmly answer, “Never” and then text him “It’s happening again” and then he’ll offer to drive to Adel and run me down with his car to prove to the world that, in fact, we have ne’er seen each other naked.

Well now that I’ve completely forgotten any thesis I may have been trying to conclude upon, I will leave you and go FIND KAYLA since apparently she’s DIED en route or doesn’t realize this is our ONE DAY to hang out before I LEAVE possibly FOREVER.  Or until May, whichever comes first.