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Thursday, Feb. 03, 2005 - 9:11 a.m.

~ Mr. Man's Japan plan ~

"That's our retirement fund, right there, just being wasted away," groaned Mr. Man the other night in the kitchen as my Fat Friend and I settled in to eat our respective dinners.

Mr. Man has a dream. My Fat Friend and I figure largely -- pun intended -- into this dream. Mr. Man wants to do a little profitable fat-ploitation.

"Okay, okay, but just listen to me," he implored us as my Fat Friend and I sat in the front seat of the car and tried to stop laughing. It was Summer and we had just driven-through Dunkin' Donuts for some powdery lovin'. "There's a market out there for this," Mr. Man insisted. "Why should I be the only one to benefit from all of this? You have an appreciative audience of one every day, but you could have a massive fanbase in no time! I'm talking money, big, biiiig money here, right at your tomato sauce-stained fingertips. And you don't have to DO anything. Just keep on doing what you do naturally and we'll be raking in the big bucks." There was a pause while my Fat Friend dug for a wet wipe to attend to a honey glaze smear and I squeezed my legs together to prevent myself from peeing right then and there. "It's not like it's porn, not at all! Well, okay, maybe just a little. But, there won't be cameras in the bathroom or your bedrooms. We'll just install one at the kitchen table, by the fridge, at your desks, by the microwave. Members can click on which camera they want to follow!"

Based on the popularity of Web sites like and other live-feed sites, Mr. Man came up with this idea that had -- according to him -- lucrative international appeal. A Web site focusing on two fat chicks...eating. Not a Feeder site, but more of a look-how-these-happy-fat-American-girls-enjoy-their-Western-food site. "If Japanese businessmen buy girls' panties from vending machines, this idea will take off over there! Maybe Germany, too! They love the fat frauleins!" Mr. Man enthused. "And it won't just be about watching the two of you prepare and eat the food. There'll be video to catch how you two discuss macaroni and cheese versus egg rolls, which Starbucks has the best coffeecake, and how much half and half makes a really good hot chocolate. We can have online auctions to sell off the clothing you wear that you drop food on!"

"HEY!" I interrupted, vainly trying to scoop up chocolate filling that had splooged out of my powdered doughnut and into my cleavage.

"It'll be like, 'You saw her eat the burrito and get salsa on her shirt. Now you can OWN that salsa'ed shirt for only twenty dollars!' " Mr. Man continued, swept up in his own excited marketing maelstrom of ideas. "Maybe we'll have bonus video of you guys at Costco doing your fat dance in the frozen quiche aisle as you push your cart filled with crates of Clementines and jumbo blocks of feta. We can try to get product placement and..."

So, here we were, several un-profitable months later in a kitchen that had never had a videocamera installed in it. Mr. Man was slumped in a kitchen chair bemoaning the fortune that could have fallen upon us all if only my Fat Friend and I were willing to participate in his get-rich-by-eating-on-camera scheme. My Fat Friend sprayed a little more whipped cream into her tub of Ben&Jerry's and I bit into my soy cheese and Spam english muffin sandwich.

"That Spamwich would've paid for itself a thousand times over," Mr. Man muttered disconsolately.

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