Nuts

Dear Brazil Nut,
It must be high-noon in a Clint Eastwood flick, because I otherwise can't remember the last time I've felt a part of such an epic standoff as this right here. There you sit in my bowl of mixed nuts every day, surrounded by your much more attractive and tasty friends; there's the delicious cashew, the omnipresent and world renowned peanut, the delectable walnut, the hazelnut, whose flavors I even enjoy in my Dunkin Donuts ™ flavored coffee on occasion, and even the healthy but aromatic almond. And then there's you. All frumpy and sad looking. You're the chubby girl in the wedding party.

I'm not gonna eat you. You're way bigger than the other nuts, and you don't taste any good, oh and YOU LOOK LIKE A FUCKING BEETLE. This isn't Fear Factor. I don't even want to look at you when you're on my desk alone, and when you're surrounded by so much awesome, you're even that much less interesting to me. So, I pour the bag, and I pick around you. And then there's another of you. And I pick around that. And another. And another. When there's enough of you, I just scoop you up into my palm and toss you in the trash. THAT'S ALL YOU ARE TO ME, BRAZIL NUT, IS TRASH.

When was the last time anyone talked about you? You're not in a Snickers bar. In fact, you're not in any candy at all, are you. You're the unwanted bastard of the nut world, and I feel like the guys packaging these mixed nuts just throw you in there as filler to make an easy buck.

You're fighting a battle you can't win, Brazil Nut. You're not gonna win me over. Please just give it up, and let's both move on.