Nectar? Really?

When you think of the word "nectar" you think of flowers and humming birds. Images of Greek goddesses and ambrosia appear in your head (or, at least they do in mine). Nectar is such a sensuous word, it makes you imagine that whatever this thing is, it must absolutely be thick and rich and sweet and terribly bad for you.

Generally speaking, you don't think of cacti and you certainly wouldn't think of anything other than a tall stove-pipe-type (Saguaro, I believe they're called) cactus. Ladies and gentlemen, when you think of nectar, you do not think of this:

That being said, you'd better believe that some industrious little fucker has made cactus nectar. In order to cash in on the latest trend to sweep the hippy/yuppie (how have these become the same thing!?)/health-conscious/vegan/vegetarian culture, someone has decided that the plant above should be squeezed and the "nectar" bottled for consumption. Mind you, I'm only slightly jealous that this marketing genius has already snatched up the whole "deadly/dehydrated plant nectar" idea because, well, if we're going this route, I've got plenty of good ideas. Think of the possibilities:

Venus Flytrap nectar, Palm tree nectar (not coconut juice, this is different), Brussels Sprouts nectar. We could even go a different way and skip away from plant life. It may alienate the vegans/veggies, but the marketing options would be excellent. Pizza nectar, guacamole nectar, sardine nectar and more!

This is a goldmine and I am working on a process to help refine the sugar + water + (random ingredient) = nectar quotient. It's got to be more sugar than anything, then water, and then just enough of the magical juice to make it taste particularly awful... but not enough to water it down so that it would actually be considered juice and not nectar. This is very important. Nectar = fancy, juice = boring.

Conclusion: If you bottle it and market it the right way, the rich yuppy idiots will buy anything if it might be healthy and slightly indulgent.

The Nerve of Some People

"We have women in the military, but they don't put us in the front lines. they don't know if we can fight, if we can kill. I think we can. All the general has to do is walk over to the women and say, 'you see the enemy over there? They say you look fat in those uniforms." - Elayne Boosler

Wise words from a woman who understands exactly what is going on in the female psyche. That being said, as I'm sure most of you already know, I'm not really a girly girl. I am and always have been one of the boys and despite my best efforts at being a slightly slimmer girl, I will always be built like a German plowhorse.

I am a member of a certain dating website, on which I have posted a picture of my face. I believe it's the picture you all have seen on my myspace, facebook etc. Black shirt, cheesy smile .. the whole nine yards. It is the only picture on that website and it's not really indicative of my weight... because let me tell you, I've seen a bunch of variation on face-to-body weight ratios. Needless to say I'm fairly proportionate but I don't have 18 chins or anything, either.

Anyway, I get this message that says (basically I'm paraphrasing... I was so mad I deleted the message):

"Hey! I saw your profile and wanted to invite you to this new club in town. It's called Plush and it's for BBW, full-sized women and the men who love them. We should check it out!"

At this point I feel that it's necessary to say that I may be chunky and I may agree that I'm a fatty but I am in no fashion obese. 99% of the men I know can pick me up without straining their backs and I don't (always) have to shop at the big-girl stores.

This email angered me. Mostly because it flew in the face of everything I've so recently decided to work hard at in my life; namely, getting my crap together in a really general sort of fashion. I'm going to school, I'm working out, I'm trying to figure out why I'm messed up, etcetera. So here's this stranger that basically says "HEY! You're a fatty, wanna go shake your rolls with other fatties?!"... And for a lingering moment I wanted to cry.

Then the moment passed and I was pretty pissed off. Generally speaking, I'm not an easily angered person and I generally don't cry at the drop of the hat but this is freakin' stupid. What the hell is going on with people that they can just assume that a girl who is slightly overweight is a BBW, proud of it, and wants to go to a club where creepy men lurk around looking for that excellent suckling pig to roast after sha-boinking? Holy balls, that's just a disturbing image/thought.

The worst part is, I told Momma D about the entire situation and was visibly disturbed by the whole thing... and she wants to go. I think she might have a weird collection-fetish (Kobold says yes) for fatties... maybe why she likes me so much (no matter that I'm blood-related lol). I'm scared, but I told her I'd go. I figured if anything at all, it'll be an excellent ego boost. Momma wanted to know what fatties wore to the club. I didn't have the heart to tell her she really DIDN'T want to know. Ugh. I shudder at the thought.