Bacon Maple Bars

There's nothing I enjoy more than rolling out of bed at 7:00am after a restful three hours of sleep. I feel refreshed and completely ready for the day. Not a single fucking person is annoying me in any way. You want to chat on my porch and listen to Whitney Houston on repeat? Awesome. That sounds great. Let's do that. That is in no way distracting me from my work. Oh, wait, I'm not working. I'm blogging. Carry on, then. However, let's be clear. When my work isn't finished on time or in a acceptable fashion it will, of course, completely be your fault. Yours and Whitney Houston's.

Anyway, now that we have successful placed blame for my own inadequacies onto a washed up 80's pop star... we can move on.

I recently had the following conversation:

Me: "[bla bla bla bla] my blog."
Not Me: "You have a blog?"
Me: "Oh, it's terrible. It has no nutritional value."

No nutritional value? I don't even know what I was attempting to say. But, at 4:00am, the conversation popped back into my head. At the same time my stomach was thinking "if we're awake anyway, why can't we be eating?", my brain was thinking "what kind of food might my blog be, were it food?"

Yes, that's right. This is going to be one of those 4:00am posts.

The consistent issue I have with my blog is this: I really want it to be an arugula and baby romaine salad with candied walnuts, dried cranberries and raspberry vinaigrette topped with plank-smoked salmon. The kind of meal you might dress up for, or, at least eat at the table. However, the reality is that my blog is a boxed Betty Crocker cake with Totino's frozen pizzas dividing each layer and finished with globs of canned frosting. It's best enjoyed in lounge pants in front of late night TV infomercials.

I mean, here I am, finishing up writing a report on the food security issues in the Karamoja region of Uganda. I could write a powerful and interesting post about their struggles with drought and insecurity. I could. But, am I? No. And, I actually dribbled granola all over my keyboard while looking at a table showing what percentage of people ate only one meal a day (a majority). The granola was my second breakfast of the day.

No, you'll find no profound insights into the human struggle here. When I lie awake at night I think about things like the penis shaped doughnuts at VooDoo Doughnuts. Yep. I was trying to think of some disgusting food con-cock-ion (hahahaha-I'm 12!) and VooDoo came to mind.

"Let's get Pix Patisserie and champagne!" you say.

"Yes, let's!" I reply. Yet, my car steers us towards beer and doughnuts.

And, as we stand in line at VooDoo we laugh about the bacon maple bars and the penis shaped raised doughnuts.

"That's so gross!"

"Who would buy those?!"

But, secretly, I'm thinking "I would". And, I imagine dropping you off at your house and coming back for that doughy phallic goodness. I'd drive aimlessly around town in my 19MPG turbo charged wagon, blasting top 40 hits. I'd head north on Front Ave, flying by my condo going 70, popping off a glazed ball and throwing it in my mouth as I cackle with delight...

...wait, did I just reveal too much? Uh, no, no. That's disgusting. I have never done that. Nor would I ever do that. No. I like locally sourced fruits and veggies and indie alternative and public transportation. Yep. Totally.

I am arugula. I am not canned frosting.