This post really serves no purpose.

It's 10:30 AM and I've already been up for nearly three hours. During this time, I've accomplished absolutely nothing, despite the many things I have to do this weekend. In fact, the only things I've done are listen to Lady Gaga's new single Born This Way over 50 times and eat French toast.


In case some of you don't know, I'm kind of amazing in the kitchen. And no, that's not a euphemism or double entendre or whatever else your sick and disgusting minds have come up with. I do a lot of cooking, but most of my time is spent baking, and I've been enlisted to make a few batches of cake pops this weekend for Valentine's Day. What are cake pops, you ask?


Welcome to the best dessert in the world.


Any type of cake and frosting, coated in chocolate, on a stick. It sounds morbidly obese, but even with the addition of chocolate, they're a lot better for you than eating a whole slice of cake. As long as you only eat one, of course. After all, they're only two to three bite desserts that make you feel like an astronaut while you're eating them. I didn't come up with the idea, but I make them for nearly every holiday, birthday, or major event. And by major event, I mean weekends and sometimes Wednesdays.


So, at some point today, I'll need to take a trip over to the hell that is Winco--a discount warehouse-type store with a horrid name--and brave the crowds of soccer moms, screaming children, and screaming soccer moms. It's the cheapest place in town to get things like flour in bulk, so I set aside my personal fears and reservations about places like it and make the long journey only when it's absolutely necessary.


For now, though, I'm just procrastinating and listening to ~Born This Way~ in my pajamas. I was talking to a friend of mine and found the perfect description for the new season of American Idol. And I quote(myself):

"American Idol is like the straight-A beauty queen that got in an accident because it was texting behind the wheel and now has serious brain damage."

-Drew Meier, February 11 2011

I know this is completely irrelevant to everything else I've written in this post thus far, but seriously, sometimes I just look in the mirror and think, "Dear God, where did this gift come from? From what fertile soil did your genius spring forth?" while stroking the face of my reflection. My uncanny ability to deliver mediocre, nay, ridiculously nonsensical one-liners is truly a gift from God, Shiva, Allah, Vishnu, Chairman Mao, or whatever other deity/communist Chinese dictator you worship/are oppressed by.