To my family who’s been wondering: I have not yet signed any lease, and I haven’t moved to Chicago more than the boxes piled in the backseat and trunk of my car. I start my job in two days, so technically I’ve moved, but I’m still hanging out through the graciousness and hospitality of NPH’s family. When it does come time to settle for good (this weekend???) all my stuff is all packed and just waiting in IC for a moving van.

I was going to embed a video from last week’s episode of South Park, the best few minutes of television ever to air in the history of cable television, but Viacom pulled it from YouTube. Just know that Slash was on as some sort of mythical Santa Claus character, and I’ve never been more proud.

Thank you to my professor this morning who either mysteriously read my blog or just my mind, because he informed us during class that college is a cake walk and our lives will only be busier the older we get. Ausgezeichnet!

Speaking of German stuff, Deutsche Bahn cancelled my Bahn Card. Cue the Hallelujah chorus! I’d emailed them a very painful, “Hi, sorry my German’s pretty bad, could you cancel my card since I’m not in the country anymore,” email on the day after it was scheduled to be renewed (oops) and today got a reply. Apparently you’re supposed to notify them six weeks prior to the renewal date, but were considering this an “exceptional circumstance” and cancelling it as an “act of goodwill.” For as much as those people love rules and reprimanding those who don’t know or follow them, this is all nothing short of a miracle. I hope they had a lovely guffaw over my email and lack of general knowledge about the runnings of their system, but I now retract everything I previously said in hatred about the Deutsche Bahn.

I made NPH and I spaghetti for dinner last night while watch the State of the Union (Obama rocked it) and Teen Mom 2 (boring episode) because I’m the epitome of domesticity. It was awesome, one of those foods I forget exists and never eat often anyway, but once I did I was all, “This is ausgezeichnet!” (Which Google Translate is showing me means ‘awarded’ but so obviously means ‘excellent’.)

After a fever of 104, two hours at a walk-in clinic, and a chest x-ray at the hospital, Neil has been diagnosed with pneumonia. I am (perhaps foolishly) not too concerned about contracting a similar illness and have instead played the role of his and Fergus’ exclusive caretakers. When he gets better, I’ve already vowed to never take out the damn dog again. Don’t even get me started on the coughing– suffice it to say, my compassion has run out for this patient.
Well, my last semester of college starts tomorrow, and I am nothing but pumped. After a delicious reunion date with Natalie at the Vine yesterday, I am even more pumped about what comes after graduation because of my delirious optimism for all things job search related. Afterward, the roomies and I bunkered down on our respective couches with our respective Hy-Vee snacks (I just typed ’snakes’) and dissected every delicious minute of the Golden Globes. My fashion favorites included Claire Danes, Anne Hathaway, and Emma Stone, even though her skin looked straight up orange. You can Google them if you don’t know what they looked like, I’m far too lazy and concerned about copyright laws to slap up some pics for you. Ignoring Helen Bonham Carter’s desperate attempt at attention, I will say my worst dressed pick is Julianne Moore for that hideous one-sleeved Lanvin creation. And Natalie Portman for that FUCKING FLOWER on the front of her dress. WHAT THE FUCK. Yes, it deserves that many F-bombs. So hideous. Also, I’m tired of her. Your movie apparently wasn’t that great compared to The Social Network (still haven’t seen it), and by the way completely other tangent happening, why did Inception win nothing? I was so, so happy that Melissa Leo won for her role as the mother in The Fighter, and they could have just mailed Christian Bale is award months in advance because he had the Best Supporting Actor category in the bag three minutes into the movie.
I hate Glee, thus it winning Best TV Show or whatever it did was s-toooo-pid, but I was thrilled to see Chris Colfer and Jane Lynch win because well, they’re awesome. (By the way, did you notice how they panned to Lynch after Annette Bening won for playing a lesbian in The Kids Are Alright?) Speaking of, that movie was just alright– she was great, and don’t even get me started on the sexiness factor going through the roof with the casting of Mark Ruffalo, but alas, the movie was kinda flat.
And now I’m hungry, thus will leave to go make a sandwich with coleslaw on it. DON’T ASK– it’s my food phase of the moment. An odd one, yes, but also oddly delicious.

I’m done for the semester; my final today was far easier than I was fearing.

Also, in Hawkeye news, we’re all on drugs. Now if you’ll excuse me (a large dose of irony, perhaps?) the season premiere of “Intervention” is on.

You’re welcome, Roomie Rachael, for the U2 title. Blech.

Instead of studying for my one final of the semester that’s scheduled for tomorrow afternoon, I’m watching E!’s “Married to Rock” ONLY BECAUSE Duff McKagan and his wife are on it. Because yes, the only thing anyone who wants my attention or ad dollars has to do it is slap anything related to Guns n Roses on it (original line-up through Steven Adler being replaced by Matt Sorum line-up, not creepy Bucket Head pretending to be Slash line-up because YOU ARE NOT GUNS N ROSES!!!) Overall, the prematurely plumped, nipped, and tucked beauties featured on this show make me very sad for myself and the state of my country, but on this particular episode, AJ somebody is stressing over proposing to her boyfriend, Billy somebody, who is completely unrecognizable to me. He has an English accent, perhaps you older-generation readers would know who he is. Her three cronies, but most especially the very vocal, very annoying wife of Perry Farrell, have decided that this is a terrible idea. Because God forbid a woman not just wait around for the man to decide their next move as a couple. Which is of course now making me think, would I ever propose to someone? When I was younger, I had this thing where whenever I found my first love, I would absolutely never, ever be the one to first say those three words. You know, those. And I didn’t. I would have sat on it forever, tight-lipped and brimmin’ with love, but far too scared to tell the other person for fear they’d freak and run for the hills. As you can imagine, this was just the healthiest of relationships. I’d like to think I’ve grown a bit as a person and realized that you only live once and that if you love somebody, well dammit you should say so. (As you may have noticed, I had no particular trajectory for this post, just a lot of finals procrastinating.) Funny I still have trouble saying it to my own family members, but tell Fergus that I love him at least 20 times a day. But he’s just so damn cute.

ANYWAY– from what I can tell, this AJ girl decides to not propose to British Billy, possibly because E! was behind the camera telling her to do it all in the first place since Billy has been very “I don’t wanna get married anytime soon” since the beginning. Please stay tuned for more riveting reality show updates. (And yes, I hope that was a joke, too, mostly because I kinda need a pretty good grade on this final.)

So I’m watching an episode of Oprah while painting my nails, basking in the glory of finishing my scholarship application a mere hour and a half before it’s deadline. Now I don’t consider myself an emotional person, and yet I’m near tears watching this particular episode where she’s gone back to Williamson, West Virginia where she filmed a show 23 years ago. An AIDs patient, Mike Sisco, went to the pool back in 1987 and caused a town-wide and then national freak-out because he got in the water. The pool was evacuated and closed, and Oprah hosted a town hall type meeting that turned into a group of angry, ignorant people shouting about their repulsion towards homosexuals. Now I realize that little was known about HIV or AIDs back in that day, and I pray that those who stood up on national TV to denounce his lifestyle and said that God had cursed him with this disease now realize the error of their ways. Unfortunately though, this kind of hate is still very much alive in all of our communities. My head cannot wrap around the fact that there are still some people who believe that those who are different than them, specifically if they have different sexual preferences, do not deserve the same rights as them or are somehow less human. I know and love gays, staights, those who are abstinent, quite promiscuous– WHY and HOW does that define them as people?! It makes me so angry that this ignorant, hate-filled man on Oprah, and people still today, are citing God as the reason they think they’re better than LGBT people. Someone’s sexual preference is between them, their partners, and God– not our government, not their neighbors, and not the clergymen who pass judgment on who and who’s not worthy of God or society’s love and compassion. People are people are people. If a handicapped person went to the pool to cool off and it was then shut down because their “disease” could have spread, there would have been an enormous outcry from advocacy groups and those who realize that a person can’t help a mental or physical handicap anymore than they can choose the color of eyes they were born with. Homosexuality is not a handicap or a disease. I didn’t choose to be straight, how could someone think being gay is a choice– especially when they face still face such devastating discrimination even in “liberal” states? I don’t believe that the Bible says being gay is wrong (that’s going back hundreds of years into translation, the Bible wasn’t written in English, I’ve taken a class on on this, I can get my notes for your sometime if you’re interested) and God makes everyone as he makes them. I believe gay marriage should be legal, the fact that it’s such a huge legal issue is senseless discrimination based on fear and hypocritical ideology on many people’s parts. Sorry if this didn’t make much sense; just a lot of anger typed out while Oprah’s still chattin’ away.

*Steps off soap box.

I’ve alluded to this sad, sad addiction previously, but I feel now is the time to do some full disclosure on the blog: I watch Jersey Shore. I love it. I look forward to Thursdays (and not just because it’s the start of my weekend.) This was never supposed to happen. During the first season, I only had peripheral knowledge of this cast of ridiculous guidos and had never seen an episode. Then, right before the second season premiere, there was a Jersey Shore marathon on MTV and a hangover with no cure except mind-numbing pseudo-realistic TV. I blame NPH– he seemed to have an encyclopedic knowledge of Snooki and Pauly D’s shenanigans, was able to catch me up to speed on all the Sammi/Ronnie drama. Suddenly I was doing the Pauly D Point whenever that damn new Enrique Iglesias song came on (for those of you who don’t know, the video for said extremely catchy ditty is just the cast of the show dancing at an Enrique concert. Pauly D’s only dance move seems to be pointing at the crowd in tandem with the beat, my hypothesis being the more girls he points at, the more likely they will be to “smoosh” with him after the show.) I have conversations about these people with friends, and predict that Snooki Snickers will be this year’s Lady Gaga or Kate Gosselin of Halloween costumes. Do I have my favorites on the show? You bet I do. J-Woww serves no purpose for me, and I’ve come this close to shutting off an episode of Sammi’s ridiculous childlike attitude when it comes to the ol’ Ron-Ron. Snooki’s where it’s at, and not just because she and I are kindred spirits when it comes to all things pickles. The Situation used to annoy the shit outta me, but basically I would choose any guy in the house to hang out with over Ronnie. (Is she still blogging about the Jersey Shore? Well you’re still reading it.) If I could recommend the Rolling Stone issue with Leo DiCaprio on the cover, there’s an article about the show that’s well-written, funny, and gives surprising facts about the cast members pre-MTV fame. My roommate Lauren actually just expressed outloud, “I love these people so much.” (Yes, we’re watching reruns before the new episode tonight.) And I do, too. I don’t know why. I feel like an idiot, but the show (as Marc Jacobs, yes THAT Marc Jacobs said in a recent issue of InStyle) is a good brain vacation. One day they’ll all end up on Where Are They Now or surrounded by their bevies of Italian grandchildren (“THEY’RE NOT ITALIAN.” Yes, citizens of New Jersey, I’ve heard you. Humor us, please.) But until then, long live the Jersey Shore. God bless this Guido Juiceheads, protect them from the diseases that must be floating around in the Smoosh Room, and please, please give Sammi a backbone because this fake Ronnie drama has GOT to stop.

Today I learned an important lesson: do not buy the cheapest thing on Amazon. It will come with poorly translated directions and generally frustrate the hell out of your already exhausted self who only needs this music player to get her through her very early run tomorrow morning. Yes, I’m officially on a training plan for the half marathon and it feels AMAZING and I have renewed faith in both the heavens and my shoddy left knee. While I’ve been suffering through with just my thoughts (RIP iPod, you went above and beyond the many years I asked of you) now that I’m going 5+ miles, some heavy dance beats do wonders for my morale. In Iowa City this weekend I did my first “long” run with the help of NPH’s iPod (which he gave me, then TOOK BACK when his newer one broke. Goddamn Indian Giver. Is that a racist term? If it is, I apologize. That’s just literally the only term I know for someone who gives you something then takes it back. Other than Giant Butthead.) I move into my apartment THIS WEEKEND and am beyond excited to have my name on an apartment in IC again after eight months of separation and/or couch-surfing at 713. I’m also looking forward to resuming a somewhat normal blogging schedule since perhaps life around my peers will inspire me more than life working for the man (albeit a very fun, exciting “Man” who has been an amazing experience) does. Back to individually converting MP4 files to MP3 to go on this new piece of shit contraption even though I’m sure there’s ten other easier ways to do this AND I should be in bed if not staying up to watch the season two premiere of Jersey Shore. How I got into this show (just recently! Over the weekend!) is a tale for another post. Or maybe never because I’m very, very ashamed I know what “GTL” stands for.

WHYYYYYY, Cruel World, did I wake up at 6:15 this morning?!?!  It’s certainly not that I went to bed at any decent hour (second 21st bday celebration of the week was a success…)

An example of the power of Twitter: last night at work I was about to pass out with tiredness, so tweeted from my phone “Someone bring me coffee at work, I’m fading fast.”  Not too long after, @codyhromidko brought me a double vanilla latte from his place of employment.  I love him.  You should love him.

Roomie’s alarm just went off at 8 am.  On a Sunday.  Roomie, you are crazy.

After the game yesterday, some Web site said something about the Hawkeyes having a chance at the “Rose Bowl and beyond.”  What is beyond the Rose Bowl??  And I will eat my hat, nay, I will eat ten hats LITERALLY PUT TEN HATS IN MY MOUTH, CHEW & SWALLOW THEM if the Iowa Hawkeyes make it to the Rose Bowl this year.  It just ain’t happenin’.

I think my eyes are bleeding.  Sleep needs to return to me like now.  On one hand, I’ve never done a Powerpoint presentation before 7 am before, but I can check that one off my bucket list.  On the other hand, the amount of extreme bitchiness that I will rise to before this day is over if I don’t get more sleep is quite dangerous.

THERE ARE PEOPLE SHOUTING OUTSIDE RIGHT NOW.  Children… squealing.  This is my nightmare.

Update: Engaged & Underaged is on.  Suddenly being awake is so worth it.  There’s nothing I love more than watching my peers ruin their lives on situational reality television.