I should rename my blog 'Food Diaries' or 'Life with Food'. Ooooo, or 'Jess eats too much and has to tell everyone'. That's catchy, no? I often challenge myself to write an entire entry that doesn't in some way mention or refer to food, and I just can't do it. I'm weak, I tell ya. Weak. I mean, check it out - I already ruined this one in the first 5 words. Pathetic. Seriously.

It's Saturday night. You know what that means, don't ya? Well, for me - it doesn't mean a hell of a lot besides a lack of decent nighttime programming. And I don't know why that even matters to me as I rarely get the chance to watch anything in real time these days - I put everything on the DVR instead. This way, I can be reminded every time I put Yo Gabba Gabba on for the boys that I have zero time to even catch up on Cougar Town and Project Runway. And Scrubs. That's about the extent of my DVR viewing. Cougar Town, Scrubs and Project Runway. I recently added the Bravo show about the hair dressers, but I haven't gotten around to watching it yet. I probably won't either. I used to put NCIS on there - but after about a month of them cycling through sans my viewing, I removed that from the schedule.

Mmmmm. LL Cool J. I could lick pudding out of your dimples.

Sorry. I got distracted. Anyway, I was rambling on and on and you were mindless sitting here reading and wondering why you even bother checking out this here blog when you could be doing something way more productive - like waxing your upper lip. You really should you know... that Magnum PI look doesn't favor your cheekbones. Or your vagina.

Vagina actually didn't work so much in there, but I wanted to refer to the mustached person as a woman and it was the only thing I could come up with. I should probably stop taking my Xanex and my Prozac together at night. It makes me a tad loopy.

Which brings me back to my original thought (sorry, ADD) - Saturday night. Yeah, I don't get out much. I don't. And don't let the idea that because it's the night before Valentine's Day that this means something around here. It doesn't. All it means is that I will make heart shaped pancakes in the morning for the boys and I'll probably shave my pubic hair into a heart shape and attempt to dye it a pinkish color. With glitter. You know, for myself to enjoy. Am I sharing too much? I'm joking anyway - I'm not going to shave any shapes into anything on my body. That would be foolish. Besides, I learned my lesson with that fashion no-no in the 90's with an incident we will just call 'lightening bolt side burns'. Nuff said. (I was a big Salt N Pepa fan)...

Still with me? Goodie. I hate when you leave all angry and offended. You shouldn't take everything I say personally in here. In fact, you shouldn't really take offense by anything anyone else says because of the simple fact that people generally suck and what others say and do is really just a reflection of themselves. I tell you this not to educate, but to grill this point into my own head. It's definitely a good lesson to learn. And since I'm being serious here....

You know - as I write this blog - there are still so many people over there in Haiti that continue to suffer as a result of that horrible earthquake they had a few weeks ago? Isn't it funny how fast we are to respond to tragedy with our money, and telethons and everything - and then a few weeks later, we completely and totally forget about it all? Like it never even happened? I mean, I'm not saying EVERYONE has forgotten. I'm sure the people who lost folks over there are still upset. But we've all moved on with our lives. Which, in some ways, is necessary. I get it. I do. But, I still feel the need to go check out the websites and engross myself into the recovery process over there. I don't know what it is about natural disasters of extreme magnitude that intrigue me so... but they do. I was the same way with the Asian Tsunami. And the Louisiana thing. I think I looked at the Tsunami website for almost a year after it happened. I made it my home page. I'm dead serious! I guess I just feel bad. Every time I want to complain about something going on in my pitiful life, I think about how much it would suck to be in Haiti - homeless, hurting, mourning a dead family and probably on the brink of getting Malaria or Hep E (it's real, honest) or elephantitis. There's lots of crap going 'round over there. If you weren't lucky enough to get squished by a building over there, you probably will contract HIV or Dengue fever from living in a camp with a bunch of other dirty, homeless victims. Depressing, no?

At any rate, I'd really like to go help out over there. Or not even there, really. But somewhere. I guess a part of me feels like I'm able to use my hands, and my brains (I have a little)... I'm certainly not overly privileged, by any stretch - but I'm not down and out. Why shouldn't I use what I have to help others who need it? Do you know how many American's died because they were over there helping out the Haitians when the earthquake struck? A lot! Am I the only one inspired to go do something now for others? Maybe I'm just blowing smoke out of my ass. I don't know. It's not like I can just pick up and go to another country. I *did* just get a new job. I *am* solely responsible for my children when my manboy husband decides to play video games all night. I *guess* I'm technically poor and in a large amount of insurmountable debt that I can't seem to pay off. But you know - I'm just putting it out there. Could be something as simple as helping a neighbor... I'm just sayin. Not enough of that in this world. Too many selfish, gluttonous, greedy people who are all out for themselves. You know who you are.

I'll get off my soap box now and stop lecturing. That's not why you came here, so my apologies. Sometimes I feel the need to go off on a tangent and I appreciate your sticking around and putting up with it. Seriously. You're the best pretend friend a blog could ask for. Happy Valentine's Day one day early.... Even though I think it's a lame excuse for a holiday and even though tomorrow will, no doubt, be just like every other Sunday this year - long, boring and a precursor to a busy work week - I still feel the need to say it. I love ya.

Now go get some sleep. Those bags under your eyes are scaring the children.