The other night I was laying in bed, my body ready for sleep but my mind still parsing the day's events. How can I fix that snafu in my new Blogger template? What do I have to do tomorrow? Can Senior Citizens be harvested as an alternative energy source? You know, the usual.

Feeling not quite ready to succumb to sweet, sweet slumber, I channel surfed for awhile until I settled on The Food Network. If it had been Rachel Ray I would have kept going--way too peppy for that time of night, and I think I might have gagged if I had to sit through her insufferable "Yum-O". It was, instead, Alton Brown. I like him. I find his presentation to be amusing. I decided to let him live.

Some of you may have caught my fatal mistake already: Watching a show about food in the middle of the night (after having finished working out, to boot). This particular episode was all about popcorn. I was pulled right in and by the end of the segment I was practically drooling. I could almost taste the buttery salty salty butter goodness on my tongue. I wanted to lick the television. The fear of electrical shock and "dusty tongue" dissuaded me at the last minute. I shut it off and cursed the Food Network.

Damn you Alton Brown! I was perfectly content and you had to ruin it by tempting me so. It was the most sinister of temptations, too: the snack. There is something about snack foods that make them seem incredibly appealing no matter what the situation. You could be sitting on the couch bloated after Thanksgiving dinner and if someone said, "Hey want some popcorn?", you'd invariably blurt out, "Dear, god, yes, I'm famished!" I seriously considered hoping out of bed and making a bowl. "Just a few handfuls", I thought. "Just enough to sate the urge. It can't hurt... you need it. You deserve it." I resisted.

But it was hard.

And do you want to know the worst part? Last night I turned on The Food Network... just hoping he'd be there to tease me again.