Thursday, September 01, 2011

Smore Than Expected.

People look at me strange when I say I don't like S'mores. They stare at me like I just told them I torture puppies on my days off.

Then they always say, "Really?", like it's also something I lie about for shock value.

Why is it so hard to understand that the sickly-sweet taste of marshmallow simply turns my stomach? Or that I hate them because when you do try to eat them, they crumble and fall apart into a gooey, nasty mess? (The same reason I hate eating Tacos - Pink Taco aside - that I'm a big fan of eating.)

Graham Cracker? I like it - crush it, make a crust, put cheesecake on it, and I'll demolish it like a fat guy eating...well, cheesecake.

Chocolate? I'm a huge fan - as anyone who's seen me and a box of Reese's Pieces can testify to.

And that leaves the Marshmallow as the deal-breaker. I can't get past it. To me, the only reason marshmallow was created was to make Rice Krispies consumable by humans. (Get it? Otherwise they suck!)

Until they somehow figure out a way to make marshmallow not taste like the inside of a Smurf's asshole, I'll just keep my fireside camping treats contained to throwing puppies on the fire.

What? I never denied anything - I just said they look at me strange.




Later.

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