Did I watch the royal wedding live? No. Did my boyfriend? Yes. He texted me at 5:28 am “I think you’re gonna like her dress.” NPH knows me well then, I suppose, but then again I haven’t read a single bad thing about it. Kate/Catherine/Duchess of Cambridge looked HOLYCRAPSTUNNINGGORGEOUS. I’ve watched what I need to online and now feel sufficiently royal wedding-ed out. I’m not a fan of the people going out of their way to be downers about it. It’s ok that you don’t care, but this is big doings to an estimated 1/3 of the world’s population, so shut your pie hole. The bride is gorgeous, they look truly happy together, and I hope the press leaves them alone. But it’s British tabloids, so that won’t happen.

Wednesday was my last PRSSA meeting ever. I’ve been involved since the first chapter meeting of my freshman year, so it’s a bittersweet sigh of relief. We went to Hope Lodge last night to make dinner for the guests, tonight is our “downtown social”, and Wednesday is our final banquet where we exec get to pass the torch to the newly elected members and run for the hills.

Speaking of sprinting away from things: I have five classes and two finals between now and when I’m officially graduated. Let the festivities begin!

Very, very, very quick post.

I’m in the guest bedroom at Natalie’s house, about ready to pass out from exhaustion. This has been quite the long week, and my weekend is only going to get busier (but so, so much more fun.) In the morning we fly to Boston– send up a few quick ones that snow overnight won’t delay our flight out– and get approximately 48 hours in the most fabulous city (ok, 3rd most fabulous) in the world to eat, drink, play, network, schmooze, make friends, see the sights, and really anything but sleep. Did I mention our hotel has warm cookies for each guest upon arrival?

Fergus lost his manhood on Wednesday, but as the receptionist told me when I picked up this morning, “I don’t think he even realized he had surgery.” He’s already back to his rambunctious puppy self, and I will miss him terribly in my absence. I had my first midterm of the semester on Tuesday, pretty sure I rocked it, though I find myself caring less and less as we get closer to May whether I did or not. The fact that we’re leaving for Vegas for Spring Break two weeks from tomorrow is nuts. Complete and utter insanity. I will mostly likely be back here in the ‘burbs next weekend for a night while Neil gets his car in tip-top shape before the drive, so there really is no rest for the weary. Not that I’m complaining, things are quite awesome as of late.

(Oh, bootcamp still leaves me pretty sore– and ravenous– but getting up before the sun is getting easier, and I’m starting to notice larger muscles. Now if only the extra inches around my abs that have settled in post half marathon training would get the hell outta here.)

BOSTON BOSTON BOSTON

I’m headed to Boston!!

Natalie and I will be headed to Bean Town at the end of the month for a PRSSA conference and there are no words for how over the moon excited I am. One weekend definitely won’t be enough time, but I. am. over. the. moon.

NEW ENGLAND, HERE I COME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Here I sit on yet another Sunday evening come too soon, with homework I should do but will not until mere minutes before it’s due, and a tired and sick basset hound slumbering at my feet. This weekend was par for the course in Iowa City, and now I’m playing catch up with things that actually matter because I can never seem to find the motivation to do them anytime before near midnight on Sunday. Fergus is indeed sick– he’s puked three times tonight and sounds like he’s snoring when he breathes. If he’s not better by morning I suppose it’s then to the vet we go (his six month birthday is on Wednesday!) Tonight I was on the radio for the second week in a row, something I find ridiculously self-satisfying, perhaps even more so than this Internet shrine I’ve been pounding out my thoughts on for over a year. My friends DJ a show on our campus radio station every Sunday night, and somehow I’ve been deemed trustworthy enough to man a mic and share my thoughts with the approximately 13 people listening. I’m not allowed to pick tunes, however, which if fine by me because my fellow studio rats still entertained my GNR obsession by waxing poetic on all things Slash and Axl for a solid five minutes. Danke, friends. My parents and really all family who aren’t me or my brother have descended upon Hawaii for my aunt’s nuptials on Wednesday. I am not only jealous because there’s a snowstorm imminent back here in Iowa, but I love weddings and am definitely missing out. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a paper to write and many things for PRSSA to do and a work meeting at 9:30 tomorrow morning that will require me to fall asleep at a decent time.

And Rob, I sincerely hope you found your wallet.

Our respective alarms all start blaring at 5 a.m. this morning (Eastern time, so really 4 a.m.) to get on a plane back home. Shout out to the Radisson for having Sleep Number beds, free wireless, and a free shuttle to the airport. While in hindsight we should have just come back Monday night, at least we moved to a hotel right next to the airport for maximum sleep in time and it was glorious. After a lot of connecting and waiting and random dozing off and flying and driving and one oddly delicious breakfast sandwich from Potbelly even though the lady put bacon on it the first time, we made it back to Iowa City and went our separate ways. While we did some serious bonding over our long weekend, I feel I need an extended break from all things PRSSA and my fellow members (said as lovingly as possible, of course.) If I heard the words networking, social media, Twitter, or resume in the next week, I will LOSE IT.
While I should be getting some homework done, sleep is absolutely trumping any deadlines I currently have, so I’ll leave you with some photos from the trip. A freshly bathed Fergus is snoring away next to me– he snores a lot and gets the hiccups once a day, thoughts?– and I will probably soon join him (I seem to have chronic sinus problems, the snores are not my fault. I SWEAR.)
I just sneezed twice and he woke up, bewildered. Love.

PUMPKIN MARTINIS!!

No zoom-- we were literally at the White House's front door during the Garden Tour

Sasha & Malia's new play set

The changing of the guards at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Arlington National Cemetery

If you’re a-Facebookin’ and wanna see all my pics, you can click here.

I suppose this post could be filed under “semi-big announcements,” only because it has to do with another semi-big announcement I made a while back when I revealed I registered to run my first half marathon in October. Most of you know of my involvement in PRSSA on campus, being VP this year after three years of pretty serious involvement and general geeking out about most things that will lead to a richer professional life right outta college. Imagine my dilemma then when I found out that PRSSA National Conference this year is scheduled over the same weekend as my race. As much I would love to go to DC (never been!) I said no, thanks– I’m already registered, I’ve already been training, staying in Des Moines is hundreds of dollars less than going to the coast for some stuffy conference anyway. I sat by while other executive members planned their trips and tried to recruit more interested members in getting in before the registration deadline. Well, today I changed my mind. I know, you’re shocked. The most indecisive person in the world flip-flopped her position on something. It was actually brought about by a guest speaker we had the pleasure of doing casual lunch with today. She was PRSSA President back in the day (the year I was born, actually) and hearing her speak of her experiences and how networking and the people she met led to such great things really got me thinking. I love running. I’ve been running, and I know that while 13.1 miles is no easy task, I could definitely do it. I don’t need to be in an organized race to run that distance or farther; with a couple weeks more mileage I could wake up on a random Saturday and do it around the city. This is my only chance to go to such an event, and the line-up of speakers and events they have planned for us makes it kind of silly for me not to go. As my father said (because yes, at 21 I still call him to run ideas by him and get his advice before making semi-big decisions) “You’re not going to get paid for being a marathon runner” aka– this is much bigger investment in The Life of Brittney. So yeah, I am kinda bummed about the race because I’ve been getting weirdly excited about it. I don’t really see it as quitting because races of all distances are pretty plentiful. I’m much more excited about flying again, staying in a hotel (I LOVE hotels, perhaps a post for another time), continental breakfasts, buying and wearing professional clothes, handing out business cards and resumes and working through my awkward meeting people issues, and perhaps meeting up with NPH’s little sister who goes to school in DC and might have a package of delicious baked goods waiting from their mother upon my arrival. Hey, a girl can dream.

The neti pot is beginning to fail me, thus it’s time to pull out the big guns.  Mainly, 21st century medication in all forms– Mucinex, some kick-ass nasal spray stuff (this whole process has taught me I have zero problem with putting things in my nose) and some HyVee brand cold medication and cough drops that it took us way too long to decide on late Thursday night.  (After watching me go up and down the aisle multiple times, Neil: “You know, you don’t have to have ALL the symptoms listed on the box.”  and “Contrary to your apparent beliefs, Brittney, I haven’t actually taste-tested all of the throat losenges in the greater Iowa City/Coralville area.  Just. PICK ONE.” 

SO LAST NIGHT… PRSSA ugly sweater bar crawl.  I’d like to think it was a success, mostly because I planned it, but also because with the amount of bone-crushing hugs from everyone– the ones brought on by either severe inebriation or extreme adoration– it seems others enjoyed themselves as well.  Example: I was lifted in the air twice.  Previous to last night, I would have bet money on that being a feat most of my friends could not undertake.  Well, now that I think about it, neither of them are actually in PRSSA and in fact are two of my favorite people from the 713 pool.  But I digress.

I looked bomb diggity and so did Natalie (she and I thought that tights under shorts were a good option, she wore two pairs and I wore longjohns under mine) and really everyone else did as well.  NPH came to the pizza place where we started and got to meet everyone, his own personal legion of adoring fans.  He and Natalie got on famously, she specifically asked that I mention them in my blog and how much she ”LOVES NPH” and he is “SO AWESOME” and ”GOOD JOB PICKING YOUR BEST FRIEND.”  Uh, thank you.

Natalie, me, NPH

Anyway, luckily my apartment is in freak proximity to downtown so I was able to go home and put on jeans without missing much.  The tights plus the snow on the ground really weren’t a great combo.  From there the night was a blur of red and green sweater vests, super flattering pictures, my partner in crime Lauren joining us, Natalie befriending a bartender and essentially getting a gallon of vodka Sprite for $3, perhaps a Pancheros stop, and some flailing about that we tried to pass off as dancing to “Bad Romance” with a German.  THAT’S RIGHT, folks.  Apparently the towering presence of Aryan perfection on the crawl the entire night is actually straight off the boat German, methinks visiting or studying here for a bit.  I was not informed of this until five minutes before we called it a night, but I took solace in the fact that if his fellow countrymen even look half as good as that one, next semester will be a fun time indeed.

Speaking of studying abroad, I talked to a few PRSSAers who have done it (Italy & Spain) and realized I will probably be traveling a lot more in Europe than had originally planned.  I will definitely not have class five days a week, perhaps only two or three (it’s 17 credit hours though) and they both assured me that I’ll want to stick around after my program ends to do more.  One girl’s parents gave her three extra weeks to backpack, and she told me about the super cheap airline over there where you can hop on a plane and go to a new country for like 10 Euro.

And speaking of abroad, days like yesterday when Amanda Knox was found guilty in Italy are days I am extra thankful to live in America.  I don’t think she did it.  Perhaps that’s just the American media poisoning my mind, but she didn’t.

Am I supposed to take shampoo & conditioner to Germany or buy it when I’m over there.  SO MANY LITTLE CONUNDRUMS!! I got my housing assignment and boy howdy am I excited.  I’ll be in dorm-style living (own room, but sharing a kitchen/living room/bathroom… I think, I actually just made up the majority of that information) with… drumroll please… 3 males and another female.  *Cue angels singing.  On my housing information sheet, I let the peeps over in Germany aware of my penchant for getting along with guys better.  My mother says this will be excellent practice for hopefully living in 713 next year.  My father did not have much to say, except to bring me back to reality when I was SUPER PSYCHED about the super low cost of rent.  “Wow, four months to live there will cost about what I pay for only two months rent in the States!”  He then kindly pointed out that the lower sum was in Euros.  Drat.

Neil’s happy ass is speeding (correction: driving at exactly the speed limit) down I-80 towards central Iowa as we speak.  He could probably get here much earlier, but for some reason drives as if he already has his AARP card. 

T-Bone has spent the morning putting up MORE Christmas shit decorations, stringing lights on the tree, that sorta thing.  We watched the Biggest Loser: Where are they Now special which made me feel only slightly more like a beached whale than I already did after this week of holiday indulgences. 

I toats-mcgoats forgot that Friday is our PRSSA downtown social (read: bar crawl) which is kind of my job to plan.  We decided to forgo (forego?  Google says it can be either) bar crawl shirts and instead will be wearing ugly holiday sweaters.  Thankfully if there’s one thing my house has plenty of, it’s hideous holiday wear.  Now to plan the list of establishments to patron, which will really only hold up for maybe the first three bars.  After that everyone either stays or goes to their favorite place, goes home pissed off and sober, goes home pissed off and drunk, finds a hook-up for the night and abandons the crawl, gets a hankering for Mesa pizza and abandons the crawl, or gets arrested.  Not all, though some of these, have happened to me in the past.  I have never successfully been on a bar crawl start to finish.  Friday will guaranteed be no exception. 

Oh, and by the by, I MISS THE SHIT OUTTA MY IOWA CITY FRIENDS.  We have been apart for eight days.  Take that times about 15 (a conservative estimate of how many days we will be apart spring semester) and you have one extremely sad Brittney.  You know that saying, what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger?  BS.  I heard an alternate saying a few years ago: what doesn’t kill you makes you want to die.  I’ve always preferred that one.  While not exactly applicable in this situation, it melodramatically spotlights how I will be feeling.

Now I must leave you to go “take inventory” of the amount of alcohol we have in the basement and see if we need to go buy more before the classy family BBQ tonight.  I feel a trip to the store is in order.

For the time time in 20 years, I found my inner Zen at around 4 pm today.  Tomorrow will come whether my paper reaches five pages or not, whether I keep rambling about Nazis in it or not (I am sadly not kidding– somehow my Legal & Ethical Issues in Mass Communication term paper has turned into a diatribe about the undercurrent of raw emotions that surely must exist in present day Germany because of the Holocaust.  I am so not getting a decent grade.)  It will come whether I know what the O’Brien Test is (I don’t) or whether or not hidden cameras are legal in Iowa (they are… I think.)

There is a french silk pie chilling in the refrigerator, courtesy of my awesomeness, that will be devoured at a very 713/529 Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow night.  Bestie’s making the turkey and said we probably won’t eat until almost 10 pm anyway, so I can go see Adam Richman AND have an awesome time recreating the slaughter of thousands of Native Americans by greedy white people first Thanksgiving.  And then get really drunk only to wake up really early possibly still intoxicated to travel two hours down the interstate in time for an oil change at 10 am.  Gotta love the end of midterms week.

Today I am thankful for my boss.  What?  But, Brittney, you loathe your job to the very core!  Well yes, but that’s because it’s inane busy work spent in front of a computer when I could be sleeping or eating or doing really anything besides wearing business casual clothes to class when all of my peers get to wear sweatpants.  I’m super pscyhed because I’m not working AT ALL next week.  Weeeee-hoooo!!  I invision a lot of lounging and eating and sleeping and sweatpants-wearing in my future.  Happy Turkey Day to me!

Also, I hate Murphy’s Law.  While on a given day I’m usually rockin’ an attractiveness rating of a good four or five points higher than your average college student, today was an exception.  I looked like the Elephant Man.  I consciously went into public full-on knowing this, thinking I wouldn’t encounter anyone whose opinion really mattered.  Boy was I wrong.  And I paid for it in ten minutes of super self-conscious conversation, followed by a complete melodramatic over-analytic meltdown about said meeting. 

This is when having a female best friend and a male best friend really comes in handy.  While both of them were supportive and assured me that  they have both seen me look like this elusive Elephantitis creature and they’re still talking to me, their follow-up approaches to talking me down from the ledge were varied.  Kayla lied to me and told me what I wanted to hear.  Apparently other Bestie is a walking copy of He’s Just Not That Into You and told me what was up, straight up no chaser.  I am now fake mad at him for doing this.  CLEARLY he does not understand girl logic, as I told him, and he replied with, “Nope, because it’s not logic.”

Anyway (hey, Natalie!) I’m gonna go do one of the million other things on my to-do list that you would think I’d have done by now, but you would be wrong.  I have to like, plan our end of the year social?  For PRSSA?  And talk on the phone to strangers to get estimates on how much banquet service will cost ?  Barrrrrrffffff, I HATE talking to strangers on the phone.  Perhaps there was some incident in my youth regarding rejection via landline that I’ve repressed but still scars my subconscious.  Whatever the case, NOT. Looking. Forward to it.

Our trip to Des Moines was a rousing success, minus not doing so well with all the one way streets, not realizing there’s a difference between 6th and East 6th, and parking near where we believed KCCI was located, but having to actually run up a hill in heels because we were nowhere close.  Running a 5K in jeans and now footraces in formalwear?  Hold your applause until the end, please

Last night’s continuation of “I don’t even know who turns 21 this weekend but I’m following a large group of people downtown under the promise of lots of pitcher” involved me getting to wear a cardboard crown from Burger King in public.  I was the Burger Queen.  The Burger Queen was pretty proud of herself that the crown made it unharmed the entire night and was still on the couch this morning.  At some point I also acquired a medium-sized stick which I used to conduct a roomful of people in a melodious rendition of “The Twelve Days of Christmas.” 

A friend and I decided this morning that toast is perhaps the most underrated food in the history of the world, so we set out in search of some.  Did we grab some bread from the kitchen and put it in the toaster?  OF COURSE NOT.  We went to a diner neither of us have ever been to and got omelettes because they came with toast (and hashbrowns!  And fruit!)  It generally did not bother me that every single other patron, mostly middle-agers or nice families, was openly staring at me.  APPARENTLY my scarecrow-esque hair and raccooned slept-in eye make-up and bright green t-shirt that’s supposed to look like doctor’s scrubs (complete with stethescope and fake blood)  provided some early morning entertainment for my fellow patrons.  That or they were just really afraid that Homeless Meth Addict Girl was going to steal their food.   I should have worn my crown.

The toast though…. wtf.  You know exactly what kind of toast I was expecting– the perfectly buttered, crunchy piece cut into triangles.  This toast was CHEWY.  Like, not crunchy.  Ch-EW-y.  There was a choice between white, wheat, rye or an English muffin.  I ordered the white– I never order the white.  Perhaps THIS TOAST is the very reason I never order white.  So disappointing.  I even tried to put some jelly on it, but to no avail.  The toast and I had to part ways.  You probably don’t need two guesses as to what I’ll be fixing myself tomorrow morning.

Continuing my thankful ’til Thanksgiving challenge, today I am thankful for… my mama because she’s currently working on the (approximately) ten loads of laundry I brought home with me.  I will be working as some sort of indentured servant tomorrow to prepare for Family Thanksgiving #1 though, so really, it all evens out.

We saw 2012 today and holy blecccchhhh.  I was hand-to-mouthing kettle corn the entire time, though, so the three hours we  spent in the theater were not in vain.  It was cliched from beginning to end– the phrase “whenever we’re together, that’s where home is” was even used.  You can tell it wanted to be Armageddon but NOTHING CAN BE so don’t even try John Cusack… don’t you even try.

I get to go make a french silk pie now.  BE JEALOUS.