If I could scream and cry as loud as the infant I currently feel like, I would.  My sinuses are full of God-knows-what and under horrible pressure, causing the teeth on the right side of my mouth to HURT like nothing’s hurt before.  I imagine this is what growing teeth as a baby felt like– I’m in so much pain. Now that the unnecessary medical updates are out of the way…

I LOVE MY NEW JOB/INTERNSHIP.  ’Tis only my second day, but this stuff is the big leagues, baby.  It’s a little bit of everything– event planning, marketing, public relations. Apparently I became an adult at some point and have full-on events, responsibilities, projects, and deadlines without someone holding my hand the entire time.  Yesterday (after an annoyingly long commute in which I decided the only thing I hate more than traffic lights is morning radio shows) I rolled up and was not nervous.  You know I’d tell you if I was, but the feeling simply wasn’t there.  I kept waiting to get all anxiety-ridden and piss myself halfway through meeting the staff, but it never happened.  I suppose I’ll thank the whole Germany experience for this new addition of personal confidence.  Living at home is… getting better.  Someone wasn’t being very optimistic about it in the beginning, but it’s not too bad of a gig.  Knowing he’s only two hours down the road, I miss NPH possibly more than I did when we were separated by an ocean, but let’s not get into that crying jag via Skype on the public blog, mmmkay?

Yes, I realize this post was a mundane update on my less-than-blogworthy life, es tut mir leid (how many languages can YOU say “I’m sorry” in?)  Get excited for a MOVIE REVIEW tomorrow (Robert Downey, Jr. and kettle corn?  Um, yes please) and Vegas preparations because there are officially only two weeks until my 21st birthday and 16 days until my favorite, favorite, favorite (American) city.  And more importantly, In-n-Out Burger.

My last night in IC was better than anything I could have asked for or Facebook event-ed for myself.  Magically I saw almost everyone I would have wanted to hang out with at some point in the evening which was NEAT-O.  Lots of people hugged me, and I hugged them back (I know, you’re shocked– this whole maturing thing is weirding me out, too.)  Today I had leftover pokey sticks for breakfast and Hy-Vee chinese for lunch.  The stabbing stomach pains that have resulted do not want dinner, just water and sleep.  And my THROAT hurts like a SONUVABITCH, so that’s cool– getting sick for Christmas.

Things I don’t want to talk about: saying good-bye to NPH.  Can I just say that I never cried in front of anyone during this whole going away process?  I’m quite proud of myself for that.  I mean, my car might be a different story and other drivers on I-80 tonight were probably extemely concerned that I was going to careen through a guardrail at any point, but STILL– the actual parting of ways was not that bad.  The resulting wallowing is pretty painful, at least for those around me anyway.  It’s not like anyone’s dying or anything, and I’m starting to get REALLYEXCITED for Germany, but separation anxiety is still no picnic.

Things I would love to talk about: the scholarship letter I got in the mail today.  Woo-hoo, journalism school!  By some weird miracle I applied  on time and the powers that be decided my grades and stroke-of-luck writing samples warranted a big ol’ check to help pay for college.  That’s pretty boss.

I’m home, my parents are off at a Christmas party, I’M GOING TO BED.  It’s 7 pm.  Wow, Brittney.  Your life is too.much.fun. to handle.  Hey– this little illness festering away in my nodes isn’t going to go away by itself.  Also, when one is mourning the loss of their partner in crime for five months, sleep is a much more attractive option than watching I Love You, Man with your brother because it would just remind you of the Paul Rudd poster hanging over the TV in 713’s living room and then all of a sudden you’d be bawling again and calling Kayla who would get really concerned that something actual tears-worthy had happened but you’d have to explain to her that it’s just because you already miss NPH and she’d be all “Good God woman get ahold of yourself.”  I mean, that didn’t happen.  I’m just saying… I could see a scenario like it in which sleep is always the better option.

Who called classes being cancelled today?  THIS GUY.  You can hire me out as a psychic if you want.  Even though the rest of campus got to sleep in til their hearts content, I woke up before the sun and went to work.  Sigh the shameless things I do for money.  About halfway through the day though I said Eff This and blazed my way through the BLIZZARD to 713 because NPH and I have papers due as well as co-dependency issues.  Needless to say, not much headway has been done on my article due tomorrow.

The antibiotics have kicked in and BOY HOWDY do I feel 100% better.  After work yesterday I went holiday baking cr-AZ-y and whipped up some peanut butter balls, frosted sugar cookies, and chocolate covered pretzels to give to some of my favorite locals/ those I owed favors to (for those of you getting all pissed because you were given the shaft: cool your jets– T-Bone’s shipped over a box of brownie mix, sprinkles, etc. and you will be recipients of Holiday Baking Extravaganza Round II.)

Apparently there is a university-wide snowball fight happening at the Pentacrest right now.  Over 3,000 people have RSVPed on Facebook (even though they just sent an update that the snow is terrible for packing.)  Lo siento, but this kind of shit really does not trip my trigger.  First of all: IT’S COLD AS BALLS OUTSIDE.  Secondly, I don’t like my peers near enough to meet them en mass and talk about “Ohemgeebestsnowdayever!!!”  We had two our freshman year, I’m over it.  If anything, I really wish we had school today because the ONE PRESENTATION we were being graded on the ENTIRE SEMESTER in one of my classes was supposed to be today.  So… not really sure where we’re going from here.  I do know that exactly 24 hours from now, my semester is over save one final next Wednesday morning.

Melanie my language buddy responded to some of my questions I had about Luneburg.  To my GREAT PLEASURE she informed that it rains most nearly every day there.  Awesome.  At least I’ll save room in my suitcase not bringing any hair products/appliances.  She also thankfully told me that every student at Leuphana University speaks English– they’re not allowed admission if they don’t.  So while I plan on being quite fluent in German when I leave, at least there won’t be a complete language barrier when I arrive.

Pee Wee’s Big Adventure is on in half an hour– a greater gift from God than any snow day could ever be.

Before I jump into my lovely nonsensical post, may I just rant that we had tomorrow ALL SET UP to sign the subleases for our apartment, but the landlord then reminded me that any new applicants have to FILL OUT PAPERWORK (which really isn’t that extensive, but it requires some parent signatures and a fax machine and $25 and a background check and UGH.)  So perhaps it will get signed by the time I return from Germany.  POOOOOP.

Anyway… guess what, dear kiddos– it snowed.  I was pretty oblivious to this, thanks to my new best friend NyQuil.  By 6 pm last night I was sound asleep and didn’t wake up til my alarm this morning at 7.  That’s 13 hours, for those of you counting at home.  A interesting thing about any sort of precipitation is that I am grossly unprepared.  I do not currently have boots, gloves, a hat, or scarf in my possession.  (That loud bang you just heard was my mother shooting me through the Internet.  I imagine there was also some sort of “BRITTNEYMARIE no wonder you’re sick!” followed by a lot of huffing and complaining to my father.)  At some point I had these things, but I’m not certain where they’ve gone.  NPH gave me some gloves at 713, but I forgot them there on Saturday.  Today it doesn’t really matter since I’m generating enough body heat to run a small-engine vehicle for a short distance, even though the thermometer says my temperature is 96 degrees.  Yep.  I am a cold-blooded freak.

The one thing that does peeve me right is my lack of proper footwear.  Apparently snow has not been deemed cool enough for the hipster population of Iowa City to give a shit, so those in charge have decided to just let it sit there, getting all gray and slushy and killing any hopes of a semi-normal walk to class.  I’ve survived two winters here with only tennis shoes and a prayer getting me place to place, but I should think I’d like to get boots before heading thousands of miles east where I presume there will also be snow.  (Note to self; I also need a phrasebook, clock, watch batteries, and a few more thousands of dollars, should I find some just lying about on the sidewalk.)

OH, my German language buddy just e-mailed me.  Her name is Melanie (I will get along with her, I will get along with her.)  She doesn’t write English that well, but asked how long I’ve been studying German.  Uhh, does a few phrases online count as studying?  I am so royally fucked on this not-knowing-the-language-of-the-place-I’m-living-for-four-months thing.  If in any sort of sticky German situation, the phrases I could hope to throw out include, “I miss you” “I love you”, the numbers 1-3, “the child is fat”, “the car is silver”, and “Good-bye” (though I’ll never be able to say it quite like Heidi Klum a la Project Runway.  Drat.)

“When you study abroad, be careful who you hang out with and what you do over there.” –our professor after discussing the Amanda Knox ordeal.  This is the same professor who just had us watch part of the Jerry Springer show to highlight the difference between indecency and obscenity.  The proximity of Germany to Amsterdam was only recently revealed to me, so really there should be no question as to what I’ll be doing there.

After 13 hours of sleep last night I woke up feeling horrid.  I don’t think that’s how it’s supposed to work, so I went to student death health where they loaded me with antibiotics for a sinus infection.  The rest of the day has been spent in bed, wondering if my head and throat could possibly feel any worse, and I have decided that no, they cannot.  NPH offered to bring me juice after class (thanks, buddy) but not only would that have thrust him far into boyfriend territory, I also have a freak love for going to HyVee and wanted to do it myself.  A carton of orange juice, some NyQuil (on sale!), a can of soup & some apple cider flavored tea later and I think I’m good to go.  To bed, that is, which I’ll be doing here in about ten minutes.  Yes, it is approximately 5 p.m.

Congrats to the Hawkeyes for making it to the Orange Bowl.  I know many people who plan on going to Miami for the game, and GUESS WHAT we’ll be down at about the same time because that’s where we fly in and out of for our cruise.

If you have a moment and want to read something far more interesting than my mindless blathering, check out this article in today’s DI.  It’s about binge drinking (BIGSURPRISE) but I liked his one much more than some of their previous.  Perhaps because if you check out the multimedia package on the right there’s pictures of people who’ve puked on themselves.  As far as remeding the situation, Greek life should definitely be wet (something ISU has over us) and students will just have to be cognizant of how much they’re drinking on their own.  Long editorials and city council meetings are obviously not changing anything, we’re all so friggin’ tired of hearing we drink too much.  Don’t they say about addicts, you can’t change them until they finally want to change?  The underage drinkers and binge drinkers of Iowa City obviously don’t want to change, and the ones who do, will.  No one’s done anything significant to impede our drinking, and if they did, we’d relegate ourselves indoors to house parties and more lame backyard kegs a la Ames to get the job done.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with some nasty cherry-flavored NyQuil in hopes of just sleeping this thing off.

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.