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.

Slash was on Lopez Tonight last night.  Holy. Slashgasm.  He looked super sexy fine, as per usual, and it would have been even better if George Lopez hadn’t been there and they’d just let Slash play and be on camera.  He’s put together a big charity show for the Los Angeles Youth Network next Sunday, le sigh.  Such a humanitarian.

You know what’s fabulous?  Curly fries.

You’ll be pleased to know that I finally have a topic for my paper AND half a page written. …who am I kidding, that’s not noteworthy at all.  Tomorrow night, I’m just being realistic when I say I’ll be getting little to no sleep.  Or I could just bomb the midterm and study extra hard for the final?  Oh college, how you’ve prepared me to make completely realistic life decisions.

It’s going to rain today.  G’ood thing I found my umbrella after thinking my old roommate had taken it for a few months, but then cleaning out the front closet and discovering it buried under a bunch of blankets and boxes of Valentine’s Day boxes.  So I shall remain dry!  Brittney 1, Mother Nature 0.

Holy schmoligans Lil Wayne will be in anything.  Apparently he’s on the new Shakira song– I’m not a huge fan of hers, though Bestie l-o-v-e LOVES that damn “SheWolf” song so I’ve become partial to it as well.  If/ when he goes to prison I. will. just. die.  Luckily his DOCUMENTARY “The Carter” (it’s already won a bunch of Sundance awards, no big thing or anything) is coming out so I’ll be able to watch it every day until his release.  So today, I’m thankful for Lil Wayne (do not make fun of me.)  He is just so great.  And hilarious.  And is addicted to prescription cough syrup.  But just awesome.

My horoscope yesterday: You can talk your way into anyone’s heart — but where’s the beef?  OH OKAY.  I think that means unrequited love.  That’s pretty much what everything in my life means.

Molly is doing a crossword puzzle and just asked me what mountain Noah landed on.  I said “Sinai.”  Apparently that is the incorrect answer.  I was not aware there were multiple famous mountains in the Bible.  I’m going to have to go home and figure this out.  Now she just asked me who plays at City Field now.  Oh, I’m sorry @mkburke, I didn’t realize I was an encyclopedia.  Like when you asked me earlier how many students are enrolled in the business school.  We are children of the 21st century, Google it.

It will be a miracle if I make it through this week.

If you put up entire Facebook albums of your cats, I judge you.

Thanksgiving 1 of 3 was a success.  Lots of food.  My french silk pie was bomb-diggity.

I had my first dream last night about leaving for Germany– I was saying good-bye to my friends and sobbing.  Excellent.  Let’s hope the actual parting of ways will be much less of a shitshow. 

There is something in my contact.  It has been there all day.  I hope it’s not a hair like last time.  There was an actual HAIR from my HEAD in my EYE.  When I finally discovered what it was and pulled it out and showed it to a lady at work she was all “Ewwww” and I was all “This is the coolest thing everrrrr.” 

The guy from Man vs. Food, Adam Richman, is coming to town on Thursday to, I don’t know, talk about himself and food I guess.  I have a ticket though I’m not sure that I want to go.  I don’t know anyone else going.  And if he’s not eating then… whatever.  We’ll see if I even make it to Thursday.

The good news of going home is that Mom gave me a loaf of bread.  Our apartment already houses a toaster, and now I have bread?  I think you know what this means.  Saturday morning’s toast fail will be long forgotten tomorrow morning. 

Have you heard the new duet by Boys Like Girls and Taylor Swift, “Two Is Better Than One”?  BLLLEEEECCCHHH.  Yes, cruel world, I realize two is better than one.  What if you can’t have two though?  What if you are destined to only be one forever?  I mean, I sooooo enjoyed no less than four relatives today asking if I was dating anyone, how my “love life” is, and then one going, “So really?  No love life?”  Yep.  None.  Zero. Dead in the water.  Complete asexual– THAT’S ME.  Or perhaps– and follow me on this, I realize it’s a far stretch– I’m a junior in college and not actually looking to put on a ring on it anytime soon.  WOAH-UH.  I know, your mind was just blown. 

Bestie told me the other day that I had “spunk”.  So today I am thankful for… my spunk.  You probably don’t have spunk like I do.  That’s okay– I’ve been working on mine for awhile.  Maybe I was born with it, maybe it’s Maybelline.

Roomie would like you to know that “Brady and Moss together are ridiculous.”  Which means good.  She is from that Satan place Massachusetts and thus is a “Pats” fan (that means Patriots).  Tom Brady isn’t exactly hard to look at.  Hehe.  Hard.

Do you know the adjective that best describes me?

Awkward.

People have been using this word for eons in conjunction with yours truly.  I’ve gotten used to it, grown into it, embraced it.  I have a 100% money back guarantee that I can take even the most awkward of situations and make them just plain more AWKWARD.  (Bestie #1, I see you sitting up there in the wind tunnel of the state, nodding in agreement, guffawing outloud at this, your personal shout-out.)

A reader today told me she was reading my blog aloud to her boyfriend (I apologize to him because I’m sorry, but that would be quite boring to me…) and she was tearing up from laughing so hard.  Not only did 1. He seriously question his relationship with this person, but 2. He asked her if I was single. HA.  Apparently he has a friend with whom I’d just get along famously.

So THEN I started thinking about blind dates in general, which I’ve never been on, which I’ll never be on in the forseeable future or hopefully ever, and how AWKWARD it would be to go on a blind date with me.  Seeing how awkward I am just walking down the street and all. 

I have this problem with eye contact, where I get exTREMEly uncomfortable looking into another person’s eyes for any length of time, so I kind of look at them then quickly look off to the left of them or above them and just keep flitting back and forth between the two.  I’m fairly certain most people caught in coversation with me are just sure I’m giving the go-ahead to a serial killer behind them to pounce and strangle them with a phone cord just so I can finish their food.  (These are the thoughts I have on a daily basis.  Please be concerned.)

I’ve actually been at a networking mocktail event where we got feedback from professionals and one guy was trying to be nice before he just cut to the awkward chase and said, “Uhh, your eye contact.  You were looking over my shoulder the whole time.”  Oh, I’m sorry, Sir.  I was just bored out of my mind by you. 

ANYWAY, so let’s say I’m on this hypothetical blind date and we manage to establish some sort of semi-acceptable level of looking at each other.  The second super awkward thing would be that Bestie would be sitting either directly next to me, in the booth behind me, or in a table across the way just downin’ beers til I was done.  Now if my date can’t accept this TOO BAD– he sucks and should just go lay down in traffic.  Bestie and I have actually had a conversation about how people obviously assume we’re together when in public.  This generally does not bother us when we’re at the meat market, for example (they like us there) but perhaps does hinder us when out on the town. 

He is often perplexed by the sort of sketch characters I find myself pining o’er.  For example, one real winner he and I  recently befriended came to the rescue when we were grilling brats during tailgating but the charcoal wasn’t  lighting.  One of our favorite Sunday afternoon activities is recapping certain portions of the weekend that may be hazy for one another for whatever reason, and I laughed out loud at this particular tale he re-told me:

“He lit the grill with hairspray and a lighter.  I looked at you and said, ‘Yep, she is in love with him.’  Your jaw was on the ground.  I was like, it’s not Tom Cruise over there!”  (I realize not actually knowing him, you’d probably like the five seconds of your life back that it just took you to read that, but I assure you– it was uproariously hilarious.)

Where was I?  Oh yes, blind date that will never happen.  Side note: I would not actually mind having a blind date.  I could win him over with my wit and intellect without actually having to change out of my pajamas.  This would also alleviate much of the self-consciousness I harbor over my abnormally large cheeks (when you’re 15 and the love of your freshman-in-high-school life says you remind him of a baboon because of your chubby cheeks, YOU REMEMBER.)

This blind date guy would only prove to be a real winner when 1. He stuck around to watch me eat way  more than him.  Because it is inevitable that I would eat more than him.  If he wanted to go plate-for-plate, BRING IT.  If he suggests stopping for ice cream after, I have found my prince.  2. He paid for it.  Only because in my current financial situation, I had to actually decide today between buying a 74 cent bag of popcorn at work or a postage stamp– if you know me at all, you’ll know which I chose.  (Okay, I’m not that poor, it’s just all the change I had on me.  But I’ve recently discovered I’ve spent way too much since coming to college.  Um, oops.)  I am by no means one of those Make the Guy Pay for Everything gals (just ask the ex) but it would be a nice gesture.  Especially since the odds of him calling after said blind date are moot, he can at least swing one dinner.

In conclusion, it should be interesting to see how my awkwardness translates in Deutsch.  Since I’m pretty much planning on meeting the love of my life over there, who will also just happen to play for some World Cup-winning soccer (excuse me, football) team, I should really brush up on my nonverbal skills.  A.k.a. bedroom eyes.  Maybe we’ll just start with the eye contact first.