They're Better on S'mores

If you took a marshmallow, you know, a normal size one – not one of those giant ones and not one of those little ones and definitely not one of those tiny ones that you get in cereal or hot cocoa; I love those ones. Especially the clover shaped ones.

Anyhow, so yeah, if you take a normal sized marshmallow and then you take a pretzel stick – a normal sized pretzel stick, not one of those rold gold pretzel twists; if you take one of those and shove it through the middle of the marshmallow – it was just like that.

So when you first hit it it’s a little mushy. Not a lot mushy just a little soft. But then the outer part of the mallow breaks and it gets a little bit greasy. Actually a lot greasy but only for a second. And somewhere in that second you feel the pretzel break – you know, feel it, not hear it. And then your back wheel there is a bit of displacement – not a lot, just a little because it is only a normal sized marshmallow not one of those big ones. Disturbing, but not scary.

So yeah, if you run over a marshmallow with a pretzel in it while riding your bike it would be almost exactly like running over a chipmunk. I know because I did it on Saturday. Ran over a chipmunk, not a marshmallow. I never thought of my bike as a weapon, but, well, there you go.

It’s not like I meant to. I was coming down Bogus going at about 35 and the little bastard runs across the road in front of me and then at the last second changes its mind and goes back – under my front wheel. That’s when the marshmallow analogy kicks in. It was just like that only a little less sweet. And with a tail.
He’s still up on the road around milepost 12ish I think right about tree line.
You don’t see that every day.

Speaking of things you don’t see every day – I saw this the other day.



Actually I guess you could see it every day if you hung out with 12 year olds, but you don’t see 30 year olds rocking bitch on the handlebars every day. The best part was that the chick was screaming “Run it, Run it” in regard to the red light that they were approaching.

They were also approaching the homeless shelter. Not surprising. The route to the homeless shelter is littered with unfortunate decisions – decisions like riding bitch on the handle bars.

Now you might think I am being mean. You are probably right, I am being mean. It’s payback for when I rode past said homeless shelter the other day and the clientele mocked me for my nice bike and cute bike outfit. Seriously. If you are rocking all your worldly belonging on your body and waiting in line for your next free meal you have no room to mock dudes.

I wanted to say “Hey guys, guess where I am going? Hooommmmeeee.” But I didn’t. I wrote this instead.

I should go back by today and tell them I know where there is a free chipmunk.