NOEL.

There are many things I could talk about. But since I no longer consider myself myself Catholic, I don't necessarily need to focus on Catholicism. If anything, on the eve of the healthcare vote, I found myself once again purporting my faith in America. In other words, I put more faith in my government and peers, than in any random religion constructed to make others feel better about their lives. I'm more than a few beers in, but I still feel the need to expound the awesomeness of our government. The US, few amongst others, put in their Constitution life, liberty and happiness. It is that last part tat still inspires awe. Long ago, I gave up on my anscestors' beliefs, but I still believe in the country they decided to love without knowing much about. My only prayer is that my amazing country finally realizes its potential and resumes recreating the world in the mold of justice. Merry Christmas. I wish 2010 to be an amazing year for my family, friends, and the world. I hope my beloved country, the country that has been host to so many of our hopes and dreams, is able to deliver on its promise. In the name of my Great Grandma Brennan, I say "Hear our payer."

"I Can't Do This All On My Own"

As mentioned below in my Wah-Fest'09 post, I love "Scrubs." I loved it most in the early years and gave it a little break before coming back for the last season. The finale is an example of the perfect television show finale. It literally had everything: random characters throughout the years, a reprise of "Guy Love" and closure for people who watch tv to see good things and be reassured that life turns out exactly as it should, i.e., Future-J.D. and Future-Eliot marry and have kids. Anyway, since change is so very, very scary, I'm watching the current incarnation of "Scrubs." Not horrible. Not "Scrubs." Scared for when JD leaves. Mostly I can't shake the feeling that each new character feels like paper. So lightweight and not nearly imbued with my sadly-heartfelt, invested feelings regarding the old crew.

I need to get out more.

In other Tuesday tv news, "Better Off Ted" is so weird and adorable. I like that it doesn't even try to make sense or be realistic. Kind of like most of my lesson plans.

Hey Jealousy (Yes, I do have Pandora station entitled "Gin Blossoms." What??*

* I'm not even trying to be funny with this one. I know, I know. All six of you must be almost disappointed.

I tend to gravitate to tv shows centered around small, tight groups of friends or families. To wit: I can get lost in seasons of "How I Met Your Mother," "Everwood," "Gilmore Girls," "Scrubs,""West Wing," "It's Always Sunny," and "Sports Night," among others. I was even turned off by "Gilmore" and "West Wing" when I thought characters weren't hanging out with each other as much as they had previously. I worried about them.

I've recently realized that this is a sign of something deeper, and possibly close to the heart of my various issues. The worst part of being a grown up thus far is my social life. As a kid, I never really jived with my family, so friends were integral to my existence from the very beginning. In high school, I had a few different groups, all whom I loved dearly. Some of which I fit in with better than others.Most of which I still hang out with with some regularity. There's the one I still consider to be "my group" even though 75% of us are married, half of us no longer live in the state, and a quarter of us are deliciously preggs. Missing the closeness we shared, the kind of closeness that can't seem to be replicated into adulthood, is something that literally makes me ache every now and again. I love nothing more than when the four of us (and our sig of others) are together.

My other groups are similarly strewn about, geographically and/or level of readiness to handle adulthood. Every time I can't bring myself to pick up the phone - again, the issues - or cancel plans at the last minute because elastic waistbands are preferable to wearing shirts that show of my upaist rolls (the rolls of fat right below my boobs, before the small dip that leads to the biiig roll to my waist), I feel important friendships slipping away. HLMH and I talked about this last week, or two weeks ago, maybe three? How we are just too tired to exist for other people anymore. We lamented our youth and lost interest, momentarily vowing to get better, before promising we'd talk again sometime before the new year.

The thing that I miss the most is having a circle of friends that is just always kind of around and ready to hang out. I thought I had cobbled together such a circle in Tremont. I know I can usually, selfishly, count on them to listen to my drunken rants after meeting me whenever one of us texts each other, each of us slowly trickling into the bar, expanding our table to the chagrin of our server. But my Tremont group isn't as sturdy as I'd like to think. Mostly because people evolve and need to do the things they need to do to make themselves happy. And while I'd love things to go on swimmingly as they have, I understand that things will change because they have to, or something.

This is where I remember I have a husband, a dog, and an extensive tv show collection to get me through the weekend. Veronica Mars might just be the type of character I need in my life right now.

Where Was I?

Oh yeah...not updating my bloggity-blog. Thanksgiving Break was good times. NAWC and I spent most of the weekend before scurrying to and fro with cleaners and vacuums and other things my mom never really taught me to use (kind of like how according to my students, I never taught my kids how to write thesis statements, capitalize their last names and think like a person with an average IQ, so I can't possibly take points off for THINGS NOT ON THE RUBRIC). NAWC's been in this house for over three years now, and just last weekend we hustled to (pay someone to) install molding, buy a big screen (yay consumerism!) tv and finally put up the curtains we purchased over six months ago. Good grief, I'm in a parallel structure sort of mood. Must be the Christmas season.

All this bustle was due to my adorable idea to host Thanksgiving dinner at our house, as to avoid drive-by eatings at various households. But Snog, you ask, since when do you cook/clean/host/function? I'm not sure when the switch happened, but it has happened. Nevermind that my mother-in-law made the gravy and mashed potatoes; and that my dad brought the pies and booze; while my sister my came saddled with enough sausage-infused stuffing to make LindyLoo disown me as a friend. NAWC took care of the turkey. Which basically left me the green bean casserole. Meh, you say? Eff that. Everyone loved that delicious casserole, so full of otherwise ignored ingredients, that we had barely had any leftovers. Just because a fifth-grader could make it, doesn't diminish the fact that I did

What else...Oh. Work is horrid. Papers hung over my head all break like demonic mistletoe; only, having them above my head was more like life punching me in the mouth, not kissing it.

Anniversary, Of Sorts.

Three years ago this week, I stopped pretending to work at Jones Day for the day, came home to my apartment in Tremont, changed into a dirty CWRU Law shirt and met Michelle and Sal at Prosperity for drinks where we ran into my old high school friend Emily, who was having dinner with a boy I dimly remembered fromCommon Grounds. Today woke up to my puppy licking my neck, bought a tv stand for a ridiculous tv, thought about OASIS, and sat down for dinner at my house in Tremont with my husband, the boy from Common Grounds.

Life makes up for how annoying it is in lovely ways.

Commence Breakdown

How many things would be different if I didn't care about what others thought of me? I'd probably still be fat, but I guess I wouldn't care? That'd be nice. Today I wore a skirt I've owned for five years that's a size above my jeans. My hips were barely contained by its delicate seams; my stomach pudged over its edges, creating soft pink lines that are currently being nourished by my underwear (not panties because 1) gross word, and 2) panties don't come in my size). Aside from the fatness, I've been seriously thinking about my life and how much it would be different if I weren't constantly imbuing everyone around me with negative thoughts about me...Perhaps I should ponder my life without its egocentricity.

Specifically, if people's perceptions didn't matter to me, would I be a teacher? Some days I hate it; other days it's so exhilarating that I am stunned into a semi-permanent smile. Every day I am tired. Every day I think about getting out. Every day I feel trapped. There is no getting out. Because I am supposed to be a professional. Women fought for eons to obtain the jobs and degrees I want to snub my nose at in favor of something so-far intangible (but probably involves tv, free time to work out, and lots of day dreaming). I'm trapped because I am in Cleveland for the duration. Setting aside the husband who managed the job of his dreams, I have a fractured family that would haunt me wherever I went if I ever were to go away. A large part of me feels like I would be happy if I quit my job and worked a low-stress, low - prestige job. But, of course, I wouldn't. I'd immediately set to becoming a manager or starting my own thing, all the time lengthening my 30 minute lunches to 45, 60, 80 minutes. I have to wonder how much my urge to get ahead and be in charge has to do with the fact that I've decided people expect me to do just that. Probably no one gave a shit that I worked as a legal assistant at a law firm, but in my head I had reason to be deeply ashamed.

The job was super easy, interspersed with incredibly stressful days, and paid more than I'm making two years after my Master's. Yet I felt the need to leave because I hated telling people what I did. I have friends who are lawyers, for christsake. So I went back to grad school and became the only viable thing I felt capable of becoming: a high school English teacher. And now, not only am I just a teacher, but an unhappy one at that. If my family's predicament has taught me anything, it's that we do not have infinite amount of time on earth to be happy, even if we're technically alive. So why am I at a job that makes me terminally stressed?

Perhaps because the only other jobs I'm qualified for involve name tags and time cards. And frakkin hell, that wouldn't make me happy either.

Honesty Is Usually Not The Best Policy.

Thankfully, Tudor Rosy declared me a winner of the Honest Scrap Award. Here's how it works: Once awarded, thank the person that gave it to you, list 10 honest things about yourself on your blog, pass the award on to 7 other bloggers and don't forget to let those 7 bloggers know you've chosen them.



Now, that I finally have something to write about, here are 10 honest things about me:


1. I primarily want to lose weight so that if something were to happen to me and I came up missing, the newscasters wouldn't have to say 5'6'', 400 pounds for all the people who don't know me to hear.

2. I would take being fat my entire life if I had about 35 more IQ points.

3. I love whenever people crack their backs or necks. Like...when my students do it, I esteem them more.

4. Super Mario Brothers 3 is my bitch.

5. I'm really afraid that I am not cut out for life. Having kids seems too tiring, as does going to work every day until I'm 65.

6. I am probably an alcholic.

7. I was once locked inside a library after it closed because I was too busy going through Rolling Stones for pictures of Noel Gallagher.

8. 60% of what I say is total bs, even though I don't realize it until later.

9. My second worst injury was caused by my flying over a car after the bike I was standing on crashed into it. Okay, after I crashed into it while standing on said bike.

10. I spend most of time fantasizing about my life as a writer even though I haven't creatively written in years. Just so you know, the fantasy deals with a movie deal or two, buying the library house in Lakewood and quitting my job.

Snog Does TV

I've been complaining lately re my lack of quality tv time. Basically, I'm too tired(tipsy) and busy(eating)to watch my shows when they're originally scheduled. That doesn't mean I'm not watching my shows. Let's just say...I owe my DVR a few dirty things. If you get my drift....Which, if you do, please tell me what the hell I mean.

Anyway, here are my thoughts, as I'm sure you've been hankering for them.

"House" - Good grief. Does anyone care anymore? For the first time ever, it seems like Hugh Lurie sure doesn't. Over it.

"Fringe" - God...After I'm done with the DVR, I plan on hunting Pacey (Joshua Jackson) down and letting him have his way with me. I'm sure he'll be happy to have a second chance, since he accidentally ignored me on my honeymoon the day NAWC and I witnessed His Hotness shooting the season premiere. Also, it is so good and keeps getting better.

"How I Met Your Mother" - Somewhat rocky start saved by Robin 101. It makes me feel gross that people are comparing it (sometimes favorably, sometimes not so)to "Friends." I'm not going to pretend I never watched that show, but I will always pretend I'm better than it. Is HIMYM pedestrian, and I'm just not seeing it?

"Modern Family" - Sometimes tries a little too hard, but it's quickly become our new must-watch of the week. It never fails to make me spray popcorn/wine/porkchops out of my mouth because I'm laughing so hard. Doesn't have as many awkward moments as "The Middle" or

"The Office" - Jim and Pam's wedding is basically one of the best/sweetest hours of television I've ever seen - and I've seen the entire series of "Everwood." Sadly, I missed a few parts and ruined the same ones for NAWC when I, with eyes squeezed shut, jammed my fingers in my ears and made him pause the show until I could gather the courage to watch or just babble to myself so I couldn't here the cringe-inducing scene accosting me through my sweet little innocent tv. I really am a pussy; I cannot handle awkward. This can be traced back to watching "The Cosby Show" episode where Rudy gets her period while sitting with my parents in our old basement. Parents as in both of them. Shudder.

All for now...I have to go complain to NAWC about all my work while watching "Big Bang Theory" and hitting refresh on EW.com.

And Yet He Still Slept with Us in Bed

Last night was just crisp and lovely enough to entice me to put down my wine, stop pretending to be just-about-to-do work (that same bag is still sitting in my car)and take the Snoodle-Do for a walk. I traipsed out of the house in sneakers, sweatpant capris and a Notre Dame hoodie sans bra. I'm sorry...I should have just said I left the house looking mighty fine. Anyway, I took him to Lincoln Park to play fetch Snood-style, which basically entails him licking his lips maniacally whenever I put a stick in the air, running in the general direction to which it's thrown and never, ever finding it. Even if he's actually standing on it. My puppy is sort of a genius. We were having fun playing around, Snood running all over the place, me trying to run while avoiding my bra-less-boob jabs to the face when I nearly doubled over in laughter and had to soak in the adorableness of it all when Snood stopped mid run to burrow into the grass and roll around. It was so cute and suddenly I was taken with my life and living in Tremont. I loved that it occurred to me to take him to the park at 10pm when no one was around and not be afraid. That this is enough my neighborhood that I feel comfortable walking around in pajamas moms wear. I love nothing more than patting myself on the back for generally unimpressive things. After I'd had my fill of Smiths and Sigur Ros fall music, we headed home and directly to bed to snuggle. Sighing happily at my husband and puppy sharing a pillow, I pulled the covers over me to go to sleep. And then I smelled something really bad. Not, holy crap, what did you eat bad...Worse. Like, what is coming out of you bad. I threw back the covers; at the same time NAWC urgently asked, "What the hell is that smell?" We both looked at Snood and realized he was dirty. And not just from burrow-dirt, but dirty from poop. As in the poop he was gloriously rolling around in while I was busy complimenting myself on my nice little life.

What does it say about us that we just looked at each other before silently going back to bed? The Snoodle was completely nonplussed by the whole situation and arranged himself so that he butt was rammed up against my nose. I didn't move it; it was probably cleaner than the rest of him.

Ramblings of a Tired Old Person

Life has become so real and anchored for me lately. I have somehow turned into a real adult with a job that has a 30-year end date, a marriage with no end date, and a puppy whose end date almost arrives nightly when he chews on my toes as I'm trying to sleep. I am going to bed at 10 every night and waking up at 5:30 am for work, where I spend anywhere from 10 to 12 hours every day. TV watching has become something I try to fit in, but my DVR list just keeps getting longer. I'd rather go to bed early so I can wake up on time and be prepared to 'teach' the youth of America than watch tv. As you can imagine, this particular situation aggrieves me to no end. What's worse is that I haven't picked up many new shows (just "Community" and "Modern Family"). If I'm not staying up to watch at least 4 hours of tv a night, who am I? AND if I'm waking up at 7 am on a Saturday because I was in bed by 10:30, am I still everything I've always thought I was? Grave questions, indeed.

What I do know,after a year of agitating for a proposal and the following year spent pretending I would lose weight and chronicling twee wedding details from StyleMePretty.com, is that I need a project. That project could be becoming a better teacher, going back to school, training my dog not to bark at the walls or tear at my clothing as I'm putting it on, finally actually losing weight, or just plain keeping my house clean on a daily basis. But I'd prefer to focus on talking NAWC into have a baby. Everyone in the entire world is pregnant. Which means their babies will be grown adults when we finally have kids. KC and Kara are preggs, and I want my kids to either date or be best friends with their kids; ergo, I should have been pregnant since before the wedding. I feel good about this project. It's the first one in awhile that, should it come to fruition, I will actually be allowed to gain weight.

This is also obviously genius because when you're freaking out about adult responsibility, secretly researching doctorate programs in other states, and coveting your single friends with their single-friend lives, what's a better idea than having a baby?