Once again I am going on my bacon, sausage, ham and all things meat diet in preparation for valentine's day. Unlike valentine's of 2000, I actually have someone this year, so I guess it's time to make the ultimate sacrifice and stuff my face chock full of delicious meaty fattiness.

Over the past year and a half of dating my boyfriend, we've both packed on the pounds. I think the technical term for this is the "O wow, now I have someone and can really let myself go because I have him wrapped around my finger and he will never leave me! never never never! i won't let him! syndrome" Usually, he's sensitive to my heiffer-ness, but there are the rare occasions where he slips up.

Like once, we were driving down some street and I kept seeing skinny people on the sidewalks and they seemed impervious to my evil glares that pointedly screamed my desire for their metabolisms to slow to a grinding halt. So I said something like "Grr! Cocksuckingmotherfuckingwhores! I hate skinny people!" to which the boy graciously replied "Good thing you're not skinny, because then you'd hate yourself!"

So sometimes I wish I was an American. Only because I hear they are the freakin fattest people in the world, and I want to fit in with my people. Maybe even feel more petite for once. A friend of mine was travelling through the U.S. once and she went through a few of the tubbier states, and she told me how in the states "Supersize it" really means "Give me 10 pounds of potato sliced and deep fried and served in a greasy slop bucket" and that entire families have every member eating a supersized meal. Apparently, everywhere you turn there's a big fat cow waiting in line for some food. Sigh, that would be great...being surrounded by people who you know could've starred on the Jenny Jones episode about fat babies who eat 5 hamburgers for breakfast and a 16oz steak for lunch.

Hmm...that sounds like a good meal plan for tomorrow.