Happy 100th post, StepfordHighSchool!

I guess it's somehow poetic or appropriate that my 100th post is my official goodbye-to-Las-Vegas post. Of course, if I blogged more often, I might have made this my 1,000th post, but I can't always think of anything interesting to say. I know that's a shock to anyone who's ever met me.

I have three more full days in Vegas. I've spent a lot of time the past few weeks thinking about the past five years here. How have I changed? What have I learned? Was it worth it?

To answer the last question: ABSOLUTELY.

I'm looking forward to not living in Vegas anymore, because I don't like the weather and I'm not exactly a fan of the "scene" here. But I spent the first portion of my adult life building an existence here. I had a job I loved with colleagues I respected (for the most part). I've made friends who have changed my life in profound and irreversible ways. I've had experiences that will become great stories, cautionary tales, and watershed moments. I'm not looking forward to leaving or saying goodbye.

BTW: I'm about to get all kinds of sentimental. Spoiler alert!

I moved here to prove to myself that I could be an adult; that I could stand on my own two feet without financial help from anyone (and by "anyone," I mean my parents). I wanted to have an adventure and try something that terrified me. This was my crucible. It was my Walden. I moved here so quickly, I didn't really have time to consider the ramifications of what I was doing. There weren't many tearful goodbyes (except for the one with my parents at the airport, but I was trying to not die in a fiery car crash, so that one was cut short). There's a lyric that's been running through my head the past few weeks from a Dashboard Confessional song that says, "I must admit, I thought the trip was better made in younger seasons." I moved here right out of college, and while I did say goodbye to family and friends, I had spend the previous five years at college, and I was in a period of transition to begin with. Here, I'm leaving my everyday life, the places and people I've come to rely on. There are no external factors here forcing a difference in my life. It's just me. This one is just harder for all of those reasons. It was easier before. I didn't have a history anywhere. The longer you stay somewhere, the more there is to leave behind.

I've learned that I can be independent, which I guess I knew already. I've grown up a lot. I look back now and it seems so crazy that at age 23, I just packed up a truck and drove west. 23 just seems so young! I thought I was all sorts of mature and ready to strike out on my own, and I guess I was, but I'm pretty amazed at my bravery. Or foolhardiness. Jury's still out on the correct adjective. I've learned how to ask for help, which has never been my strong point. In all honesty, it still isn't, but I had to learn to rely on my friends, who became my family. I learned how to cook a turkey, because it was Thanksgiving, and I volunteered for the challenge. I learned how to pack and unpack and repack and unpack and repack and unpack, which was how I learned that I hate moving, but I love the freshness and organization of a new place. I've learned that cats with long hair are really pretty, but they are just miniature hairball factories.

I've learned to be alone. Sometimes (especially during the school year), when life gets especially hectic, I think back to my first year of teaching and all the free time I had. I took naps, and tried new recipes, and watched A LOT of TV. But then I realize that those things were to pass the time because I had exactly five friends and I couldn't call them EVERY weekend to hang out with me.

I've learned that sometimes, you have to put your big girl pants on and go ask someone if they'll hang out with you on your birthday, because that might be embarrassing, but it's better than eating a pint of ice cream alone on your couch. Thanks Sean and Gwen for letting me invite myself over for dinner that first year.

I've learned that my mom will always answer the phone when I need her to, despite the three hour time difference.

I know I've changed quite a bit in these past five years, but most of those changes are hard for me to see. I'm not as easily shocked. I like to think I'm less naive. I'm also less impressed, and more cynical.

But at the end of it all, I wouldn't have even made it this far if it wasn't for the people who became my family out here.

Sean and Gwen: my first friends. You let me come over at 10:30 and cry when I had to put my dog to sleep. Gwen, you knew when I needed to vent and when I needed you to slap some sense into me. You encouraged me to go talk to guys at bars and opened my eyes to the beauty that is guacamole. Sean, you introduced me to Sex Over the Phone and let me hang out at your house until 4am playing Streets of Rage II. You got me through those awful teacher torture sessions our first year. You gave me someone to be an Aunt to out here.

Chris and Amanda: Chris, you introduced me to arguing for argument's sake, and the deliciousness of cinnamon rolls with chili. Amanda, you were always up for a night out, and you always invited me. You even wore a sweater so I would feel like less of a moron in my t-shirt and flip flops.

Traci: The other single person in our original group. Of course, you went and got married on me. Jerk. :) But also the only person I know who got a couch out of her house by lowering it from a second story doorway. You are an engineering genius!

Caroline and Lacey who let me be the "other" cheer coach and taught me how to wear heels (even though I essentially failed the lesson). Lacey, I still haven't forgiven you for introducing me to Irish Car Bombs, and Caroline, I expect you to carry me back to my hotel room at my bachelorette party.

Alison, who gave me a place to stay and got excited over all the same geeky things as me. Who gets any HIMYM reference, no matter how obscure, who always honored roommate-bonding night, who endured a fashion show every time I went shopping, and who put up with Guy, whose only real talent is shedding. A lot.

Sheila and Tina, my mentors. My surrogate mothers.

Everyone else who became a part of my life out here: thank you. You made holidays more bearable and homesick days less frequent.

Here's the song that's been running through my head the past few days. I started crying on the way to church last week when I heard it.

Anyway, this is long and not nearly as poetic or poignant as I wanted it to be, but the point still stands. I've had a great five years, and as much as I'm excited to start my next adventure, it's hard to say goodbye.

Fun Facts

Here are some fun facts about me, in no particular order. Bonus points for anyone who already knew all these!

• My favorite Christmas carol is called "Myn Lyking." We sang it in college. It's a 15th century English choral song. Click here to listen on youtube.
• I love new socks. When/if I ever become insanely rich, my weird rich person thing will be to only wear socks once. At any given moment, I have at least two pair of unworn socks in my sock drawer, just waiting for a day that calls for new socks.
• If I could, I would wear ballet flats every day for the rest of my life. Or until they go out of style. Whichever comes first.
• My favorite pet name is "dear heart." It's what Aslan calls Lucy in The Chronicles of Narnia and I always liked it. It's unique. Plus I like the idea of someone being dear to someone else's heart.
• I think forehead kisses are the epitome of sweetness.
• When I was in high school, I thought there was a conspiracy of the universe that always made me see the time 10:33 on the clock. In reality, I'm certain I didn't see it any more often than any other number, but because I was aware of it, it stuck out. For those of you who remember my first email address: carrottop_1033, that's where the number came from.
• I hate the world "fabulous." I don't really have issue with the word itself, but I think it's overused. And there was a girl in England who used it all the time. I honestly think it was the only adjective she knew and after hearing it incessantly for several days/weeks/months, I wanted to stab her in the eye every time I heard it. Now it just grates on my nerves.
• I pronounce both "r's" in February. I feel like they both need love. It's rude to just ignore the first one.
• I like going to church on Saturday night for the following practical reasons: I can get a better parking spot, there are fewer people there, so I don't have to sit close to strangers, I get to sleep in on Sunday morning as well as Saturday morning, I don't like people who aren't church regulars who come to church on Sunday morning and don't behave like I would like them to, church is early enough in the day (4pm) I can still go out and do something on Saturday night.
• I love going to "serious" movies alone so that when I'm walking out afterward, no one asks me, "Did you like it?" I don't know! I just saw it four minutes ago. Give me some time to process. Sheesh!
• I do months of research before I buy any new electronics device. The only one I didn't do research on was my phone, which I don't like all that much.
• I rarely download ringtones for my phone because I have trouble deciding which song really defines me. It can't merely be a song that I like. I feel like a person's ringtone is a doorway into their psyche, and I worry what my ringtone is saying about me. Right now it's the theme song from How I Met Your Mother. It took me five years of watching the show faithfully (religiously) and owning all the seasons that are currently available for me to make that commitment.
• I love sleeping on my stomach, and I have serious concerns about my lack of ability to do that when/if I ever get pregnant.
• I love washing my hair, but hate drying/curling/straightening it. It's a cruel paradox.
• I hate paradoxes, which in itself is paradoxical, because I suffer from several. See above.
• I am, at any given moment, planning my wedding. It might not be conscious, but it's always sort of running in the background. I have been doing this since I was about four. Ask my mom.
• I love coming up with theories about things. For example, I have a theory that people who like cold weather were likely born in the fall/winter, and people who like warm weather were born in spring/summer. This theory has been proven wrong on multiple occasions, but I like to think that those are the exceptions that prove the rule.
• At least half of the funny things I say are stolen from TV shows and movies that are obscure enough that most people don't notice that they're rip-offs. When I watch TV and movies, I take note of lines that I like, then I steal them and use them. Most people just think I'm really funny. I'm not. I just don't respect intellectual copyright laws.
• I once accidentally stole some eye shadow in France by absentmindedly putting it in my coat pocket when I was shopping (I went to pick up something else and put it in there), and when I found it three days later I felt horribly guilty, but the idea of trying to explain what happened in French and my fear of being deported kept me from returning it. It was two colors: silver and gold glitter, and it was my favorite "going out" eyeshadow for about three years. I miss it.
• My sophomore year of college, I developed a severe phobia of halitosis and a subsequent addiction to Ice Breakers Hot Cinnamon gum, which was not sugar free. That summer, I learned I had three cavities. I have only chewed sugar-free gum since then.
• My favorite season of Buffy the Vampire Slayer is season 7, even though Buffy's hair is in a ponytail most of the season and it drives me CRAZY.
• I have a really dirty mind as a direct result of teaching high school. I have to think ahead of my students so that I don't say anything that might be construed as dirty, so I have to try and think dirtier than a room full of 16 year old boys. I'm not joking, I can make anything sexual.
• I think ears are gross. I don't like people touching mine, and the idea of nibbling on someone's ear (which is apparently sensual or something) makes my stomach turn.
• When I was four, I had a crush on Mr. T. We watched a lot of A-Team in my house, and I thought he was just the coolest, which is as close to a crush as a four year old gets, I think.
• I think, write, and speak in sentence fragments. Like this.
• I have never read a book by Charles Dickens. Ever. I think I read one page of A Tale of Two Cities once, and quickly put that one down.
• I like to self-diagnose. I'm fully convinced that I have ADD, a mild case of dyslexia, ingrown toenails, and anxiety attacks.
• I hate writing the number eight and the letter K. Thankfully, my name and birthdate don't contain either of those.
• When I was little (say, five?) my favorite record was Barbie on the Farm (or something), and I would sing along with it while holding my Lego microphone (the only thing I ever made out of Legos). It was the story of how Barbie goes to a farm/ranch and she has a horse that she rides named Dallas, and there's a terrible storm one night and Dallas somehow gets out of the barn. On side B, Barbie sings a song called "Dallas Come Home" as she searches for him (her?). She eventually finds her horse and all is well. The record begins and ends with a remake of John Denver's "Thank God I'm a Country Boy," which was been retooled to say "Thank God I'm a Country Girl." Clever right? At that age, I wasn't quite clear on the rules of blasphemy, what exactly counted as taking God's name in vain, but I was pretty sure that if you said God's name in any context other than prayer you would go to hell when you died, so when I sang along to that song (into my Lego microphone) I would change the words to "Thank Gosh I'm a Country Girl."

You're welcome.

This One's for You, James

So I'm sitting at Forensics (Speech and Debate) Nationals, and I'm stuck at a high school in Kansas City without a car, waiting for the head coach to come pick me up when she finishes judging a round at a different school in Kansas City in about an hour. I hate not having a car.

However, this school has provided us all with Wi-Fi that doesn't require a password and has fairly liberal allowances for websites. I've already Facebooked, shoe shopped, Father's Day shopped, played Snood, and so now here I sit, listening to Pandora and wondering what to do. I don't want to read anymore (sorry David Sedaris), and I don't feel like fending off the inevitable conversations that will crop up if I pull out my crocheting. It's strange that headphones are the universal symbol for "don't talk to me." but when I pull out some yarn and a crochet hook, people think that I secretly do want to talk to them, my headphones are merely a prop, and I can hear what they're saying. I can't. I don't care that your aunt once crocheted someone a blanket, or that your favorite childhood hat was lovingly made by your grandmother. I'm abstractly happy for you, but I don't want to hear about it. I certainly don't want to explain to you that I'm not actually knitting, because that requires two needles, not one hook, and I don't want to explain to you why I like crocheting better, what the difference is, and which one you should pick up as a hobby.

And I meant to write this earlier, but I got ahead of myself, so I've decided to blog. I don't really have a topic, so I'm just going to ramble. And rant, apparently. It's been a while since I had a good long ramble.

There is a coach here (or I assume she's a coach--she's in the coaches' food room) who has cankles. She also has pasty white legs, and to add insult to two already pretty serious injuries, she wears black sneakers with black socks with army green capri pants. And she has a really bad haircut. And she carries two messenger bags (which is completely unfathomable to me. I'm carrying a backpack today, because I knew I'd be here for 8 hours, and I wanted entertainment options. Why doesn't she just put it all in one bag?) which she straps across her chest going two different ways, thereby bisecting her breasts twice. It's actually kind of reminiscent of a revolutionary soldier. Or at least what I imagine a revolutionary soldier looks like. The American Revolution. Not Star Wars. And here's the worst part: she's a redhead. Here's my completely conflicting set of ideals on redheads:

1. I hate any redhead who is prettier than me. Actually, just redheads who are prettier than me whom I hang out with. I don't have an issue with Julia Roberts, because I don't know her. I essentially want to be the prettiest redhead in the room. I'm rarely the prettiest woman in a room, which is fine, because most other women have blonde, brown, or black hair, and therefore I'm not comparing myself with them. But I don't like redheads who are prettier than me.

2. I hate any redhead who is ugly. Now, I want them to be less attractive than me, but I have no time for a redhead who just puts no effort into it. Half the world thinks we have no souls or are ugly, unfortunately pale people with strange brown spots, so let's give the group a helping hand and all put our best effort into, okay? I will admit that I have my days where I don't look my best, and I'm willing to look past those, because everyone is a mess sometimes, but those should be the exception. Again, I don't care about non-gingers who are a mess--I don't compare them to myself. Just give it a little effort. Buy a blow dryer, straightener, hot rollers, curl lotion, or whatever else you need to make your hair work. Buy some eyeshadow. For the love of Pete (don't ask who Pete is), buy some eyeliner, or AT LEAST some mascara. Red eyelashes mean that they're basically invisible and you look like a scared rabbit with nothing surrounding your eyes.

So yeah. Redheads.

I realized that I've never officially published my Scariest Man Alive and Creeper Lists.

Scariest Men Alive:

1. Christopher Walken (I know he was in a Fatboy Slim video and he danced and it was awesome. And I know he's funny on SNL. And I've seen Sarah Plain and Tall and he falls in love with her, but he's terrifying.)

2. Jack Nicholson (and I've never seen The Shining, nor do I want to. This decision is based on his portrayal of the Joker in the 1989 version of Batman)

3. Tom Cruise (This is the most depressing one, because he used to be so attractive, and I suppose he still is, but I'm distracted by his crazy eyes. If he were on the Hot/Crazy Scale, he'd be no where near the Vicky Mendoza Diagonal and most certainly in the Shelly Gillespie Zone.)

Creeper List:

1. Wayne Newton. (Doesn't he just scream "child molester" to anyone else?)

2. Tom Jones (his hair hasn't moved in 30 years)

3. Barry Manilow (The nose. It's really terrible to say, but no one needs a nose that big)

4. Neil Diamond (Whom I'm considering removing from the list. He's the man who gave us "Sweet Caroline," but he's also the man who wore sparkly jumpsuits for most of the 80's)

And my battery's about to die, so I'm going to post this and read for a while.

fear for the future

So today, while I was packing my classroom, I came across this piece of paper where, a couple years ago I wrote down funny sentences from students' essays. Enjoy.

• "He cannot be happy with himself because of the giant nose on his face."
• "For example, i"n the novel [The Great Gatsby] Daisy falls in love with Gatsby because of his money, and shirts."
• "His mind is as closed as the Bat Cave."
• "Nowadays the American Dream is being able to work and have your wife and kids stay home in your million dollar house."
• "Every night [Gatsby] would gaze upon her dock, staring at the green light. This showed Gatsby's hope, like an immigrant would have staring at the green land of America."
• "The only thing keeping these two love birds [Daisy and Gatsby] apart is the fact that Daisy is married with a child."
• "In the 1920's, women started cheating on their husbands while the husbands were out with a slut."
• "All of his hard work bootlegging finally paid off."
• "Drummond didn't doubt the Bible; he just thought that there were some parts that couldn't be true."
• "He ultimately wins the trial despite it was actually the prosecution that took victory.
• "During World War II Golding fought against communism and the evil that comes from it."

None of those sentences were meant to be ironic.

I'm gonna go cry now.

This I Believe...

Every spring my seniors write a personal essay that goes along with NPR's This I Believe program. We spend weeks making lists and writing drafts and looking at examples, and each year I'm blown away by the topics they choose to write about the the experiences they share with me. This year, I decided to write my own:

One of my favorite quotes is one by C.S. Lewis that says, “Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: "What! You, too? I thought I was the only one!’"

Growing up, my dad had a strict “he/she whose feet are touching the pedals controls the radio” rule. This meant that if mom was driving, the radio was turned off (she couldn’t see when it was too loud…I don’t get it either), if dad was driving, we were listening to talk radio, and if my brother was driving, I was listening to the sound of my frantic prayers. I never got to control the radio in the car, and so I looked forward to getting my license, climbing behind the wheel and belting out the words to the profound and soulful lyrics of Britney Spears and *NSYNC.

So I became a car singer. When I get really bored, I dance too, but that’s a different essay. To this day, singing in the car is probably one of my ten favorite things to do. It never seemed strange to me, because I’d always done it. I sing in the car.

It took me several years to figure it out, but one of the reasons I don’t like having other people in my car is because they always want to talk, and then I can’t hear the music over their talking. Why would you waste perfectly good car time on talking?!

It took me even longer to realize that one of the reasons I LOVED driving in the car with my two best friends is that they were also car singers. One time, when I was home from college, Heidi, with whom I’ve been best friends since I was three, was in the car with me and we were driving down the freeway, singing as loudly as we could. Heidi commented that she loved it when I was home because I was the only person she could sing in the car with. Now, when I’m with them, we make sure to bring CD’s and Ipods so that we have plenty of choices. We crank the music and kill our voices. And it seems so silly to look forward to something as simple as singing, but I think, when you really get down to the essence of things, isn’t that what makes friendship worthwhile? Not necessarily singing in the car, but sharing something that you love with someone else who loves the same thing.

So I believe in singing in the car. Now, I was friends with Heidi and Lindsay before we discovered a mutual love of car singing, but I feel like that’s our thing. It’s a guilty pleasure, and sharing it with someone makes it less geeky somehow. It makes me feel like I’m not complete freak and there are people like me in the world. We want to find people like us. It’s why we all have a massive identity crisis in middle school, and it’s why friendship is so great. It allows you to share your thing with someone, whether that thing is singing in the car, or dressing up like a Star Wars character, or climbing mountains, or whatever it is you might think is kind of weird until you find someone else and can say “What? You too? I thought I was the only one!”

I'm pretty proud of it.

The website is www.thisibelieve.org if you're interested in finding out more.

some things I like...

...in alphabetical order. (I totally stole this from my friend Amy's blog)

*a bottle of Magner's, my favorite Irish cider. Soo gooood. And hard to come by in the states. (and yes, I realize this one is kind of cheating, because I'm using "a" as an article, but it's my list, and I can do whatever the hell I want. boom roasted)
*ballet flats. They're dressy-ish, they're comfortable, they're under $25 at payless. What more do I need!
*CHOCOLATE. Nothing more to say about that one.
*dashboard confessional. I know I'm too old for emo, but I just can't help myself. On the newest album: Belle of the Boulevard and Even Now. Favorite song ever: Hands Down.
*easter, because I can get Cadbury Mini Eggs!
*f-word. I know it's crass but I love saying it. It's just so glutteral. So Old English. Plus, I get to feel like a rebel, which doesn't happen a lot in my life.
*gilmore girls. It's one of the few shows where the characters speak fast enough to keep me from getting bored. And I've learned so much about popular culture!
*hot pockets. White trash? Yeah, a little.
*internet. You can find such deals without ever leaving your couch! It combines two things I love: a bargain and not moving very much.
*jewelry. I used to never wear jewelry. Or, rather, I never wore different jewelry--the same necklace, earrings, and rings each day. Then I bought some at a jewelry party and I'm hooked! My students are convinced I never wear the same necklace twice.
*kicking it with my nephews. Someday soon, they're gonna get old enough to realize that I'm not cool, and they don't want to hang out with me. But until that day, I'm gonna hang with them whenever I can.
*large sunglasses. So I'm channeling my inner Jackie O. Jealous?
*mystic tans. The sun hates me. HA! Screw you sun!
*nutella. yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
*open mic piano bars or karaoke. I just like to sing.
*pride and prejudice. Mr. Darcy, you have ruined me for all other men.
*quilts. I want to learn how to make them. Then I will have the craft trifecta (knitting, crocheting, quilting) conquered!
*red hair. I love my hair. It's taken me years to come to terms with all the baggage that red hair has (sunburns, freckles, strangers awkwardly touching your hair uninvited) but I love it now. And I love the attention I get from it. :)
*socks that haven't been worn before. I swear, if I ever become ridiculously wealthy, my weird rich person thing will be only wearing socks twice. Nothing bad can happen on a day with new socks.
*toothpaste that hasn't been opened before. The first time you open a tube of toothpaste, it's amazing. There are not crusty bits inside, and everything is just perfect.
*underwire bras. Sometimes they're a little uncomfortable (but not really, if you have the right size), but they make my breasts look GREAT!
*vacation, spring/summer/winter, etc. If I can be not at work and have the option of sleeping later than 5:30, I'm a happy girl.
*winter. Only three more months of desert living!
*x-box live, because whenever I go to Sean and Gwen's, I get to watch stuff on Netflix on the TV! I'm trying to keep myself from thinking that it's like Fahrenheit 451.
*yards. I never knew how much I loved having a big yard until I moved to Vegas, where there are no yards. I don't enjoy mowing, landscaping, or assisting in any way with the upkeep of a large yard, but I like knowing they're there. They're good for parties.
*zyrtec. Otherwise, I might have cut off my nose by now (but not to spite my face)

football

I recently discovered that I really really like football. Over the past couple years, my friends and I have developed a sort of tradition where we go to my friend Rob's house and watch football every Sunday. It started as a couple of us going down to watch football on Monday nights, but then it morphed into Sundays when Rob moved into his new house. We take turns bringing food, and Rob and Sarah (Rob's wife, not me) provide the drinks, chips, dips, and NFL package. It's nice. Originally, it was a reasons to hang out with friends and eat Rob's amazing cookies, but I've really started to enjoy football.

So I guess it comes as no surprise that I've started thinking about football, and I included the previous paragraph so that my next thought wouldn't be taken as snide or negative, but...

I DON'T GET WHY FOOTBALL IS SO POPULAR.

There, I said it.

I've been honestly thinking about this for a few months. Let's look at some facts:

1. Football is really difficult to understand. I've been watching it pretty faithfully for about three years now, and I just now feel like I have a pretty good grasp on the whole thing. So much of it seems like a drunk monkey was given a typewriter and someone decided to go with whatever said monkey came up with. Seven points? And then a chance to get either another one point or another two points, deciding how you play the ball? Or, instead of going for seven, you can kick the ball and get three? Huh? Where are these numbers coming from? And why do you randomly get four chances to move it 10 yards? And why yards? The thing is, there are a lot of sports that make a lot more sense. Basketball is really straightforward: put this ball in this hole and score two points. If you do it from far away, you get an extra. If you do it without someone in your way, you only get one. Baseball even makes more sense: You work together to keep hitting the ball away from the opponent and get someone all the way around the circle. Hockey: Hit this disk-y thing into a net and get a point. Soccer: Ditto, except kick, and ball. Most Americans can explain, with fairly little difficulty, the rules of the above sports, but ask someone who isn't a sports fan to explain football, and they will most likely have some trouble.

2. Football really relies on certain body types to work. We all know what a linebacker's build is. Granted, there are different body types for different positions, but generally, football players are really thick and built. And yes, basketball requires tall people, and soccer requires thin people, but a certain amount of skill and dedication can result in a skilled player who doesn't fit the body type. Football doesn't have that--if you're 5'9" and a medium build, you just can't play center. Sorry. But, if you're 5'9" and a medium build (I fairly average body type, I'd wager), you can be successful in many of the other sports I've mentioned.

3. Football takes huge numbers of people to play. Yeah, you can play a pick-up game with maybe 5 people per side, but that's pretty much the minimum. Two on two basketball? No sweat? 3 on 3 baseball (with ghost players, obviously), yeah probably. Football? Invite all your friends. You'll need 'em.

4. Football hurts. Even if you're playing touch, somebody's gonna get knocked down. Trust.

Do you see what I'm getting at? I just don't get it. The only thing I can think of to explain the popularity of football is marketing.

Marketing.

Yep.

Think about it: football only airs during the weekend. College is on Saturday; pro is on Sunday. Yeah, Monday night and Thursday night football are there, but they're a big deal too. They have special theme songs. You invite people over to watch it. Other sports don't have that. Basketball isn't even on network TV! I think it's on TNT on Tuesday and Thursday nights, but I'm not sure. Baseball? No clue! The only time baseball even enters my realm on consciousness is when FOX cancels my shows for the world series.

Marketing. Programming. Whatever.

Football is popular because of when it's on TV.

Which is either a brilliant move on the part of football franchise owners, or a really sad commentary on the basis of popularity in America.