Hypothetically Speaking . . .

. . . . . . . . Because Humor Matters

Burritos In Bikinis

Written By: Michael Rochelle - May• 30•16

It Took Me Years To Squeeze Into This

It Took Me Years To Squeeze Into This

So, I woke up this morning and it was a like a million gazillion degrees outside. I’m not exactly sure how that happened. Of course, I’m being just a tad bit extreme. I mean, it’s not exactly a gazillion degrees outside. According to my weather app, it’s only 88 degrees, but that’s close enough. I’m expecting the devil to show up at any moment and then quickly retreat to a place that has AC. At least that’s what I would do.

Although at first I thought global warming was just a myth to distract us from noticing the most recent antics of Chris Brown or Miley Cyrus, I’m now a believer because I’m quite certain that it was winter when I went to sleep. While I remember wearing a jacket and long johns just a few days ago, everyone else seems to be in bikinis and high heels—even the men. All of this seemed to happen without any form of notice via Skype or messenger pigeon. I am clearly out of the loop.

Now, if I can have just one moment of honesty, I’m not exactly happy about the swift change in the weather because I’m not exactly two-piece ready. Matter of fact, if I went to the beach right now, I would probably wear my extra-large Snuggie because it would be the only thing in my closet that would kind of sort of fit over all the cinnamon pecan rolls I developed while hibernating and eating bagels throughout the winter. It’s not exactly my fault though. I was born this way. My stomach expands a little every time I see food. I blame several of my biological fathers for this.

All I have in this world is a Snuggie and a smile.

All I have in this world is a Snuggie and a smile.

In any case, when I woke up and saw my neighbors frying eggs and boiling grits on the sidewalk, I decided to get out there and get some exercise. Instead of doing jumping jacks down the block, I opted to take my bicycle out of hiatus and ride around the neighborhood. My first mistake was thinking that at this age I could just go from not riding a bike for six months to just hoping on one without stretching and a couple rounds of prayer first. Boy was I wrong.

First of all, I’m not exactly sure what my bicycle seat has against my butt, but they are certainly not friends at this time, and I don’t believe there is any possibility of reconciliation in the foreseeable future. I expect that I’ll be walking funny for the next few weeks due to the irreconcilable differences. If my bicycle seat were running for president, I would not expect my butt to show up at the poles. The only positive thing is that, with the DC Metro shutdowns over the next few months, at least folks could use the gap in my stance as a tunnel to get to work. I believe there’s room for at least four lanes of traffic each way.

Second, as I began riding, I realized that my knees don’t function the way they once did. Actually, this isn’t exactly a revelation. I learned this the last time I tried to drop it like it was hot at the club and I had to quickly grab onto a table so that I could lower it like it was lukewarm. Needless to say, as I peddled up the first hill, I cried. My knees cried. We all cried together.

Because I know my limitations, instead of riding in the street and dodging cars, I chose to ride on the sidewalk for as long as I could. About five minutes into the ride, I found myself pausing to use Yelp to locate the nearest Wendy’s. All of that riding left me in the mood for a couple junior bacon cheeseburgers. Because my knock-off version of a Fitbit registered that I had burned off 5 calories since I left the house, I figured that I deserved the burgers.

As it turned out, Taco Bell was several blocks closer than Wendy’s, so I settled for two burritos and a soda instead. By then, I had burned 7 calories, so I had made more than enough room for the food. What I neglected to realize was the fact that I was about to try to ride a bicycle on a full stomach. And the full stomach itself wasn’t exactly as bad as what it was that made my stomach full. Let me explain.

For those of you who don’t exactly get it yet, think about what a burrito can do to you when you’re just sitting stationary in the comfort of your office. Now take that same burrito in your stomach and roll it around in there a bit. Bounce it a few times. Make it go up some hills, and down some hills. Make that burrito hit a few bumps. Let the burrito make a few quick stops due to drivers not caring that you were trying to make a mad dash home as they failed to stop for you in the crosswalk simply because they had the green light.

Just as I was about to let the burritos win by TKO, I reached an empty parking lot of an office complex, which was perfect because I was about to leave the bicycle right there on the sidewalk and call an Uber. As I rode around the parking lot to let the burritos settle, I saw a few no-trespassing signs, but I took an internal vote and then decided that the signs were optional. I mean, what company cares about some random burrito-filled guy riding a bicycle through their parking lot and accidentally hitting the one or two parked cars that just seemed to pop up out of nowhere? Don’t worry, each time I hit one of them and scratched off a little paint, I left a note that read, “I’m sorry. Sincerely, Barack.”

About five minutes after I arrived, two security guards came out of one of the buildings and headed in my direction. I thought they were going to arrest me. Maybe the no-trespassing signs hadn’t been optional after all. At first I got a bit nervous, but then I thought about the last time I got arrested; it wasn’t so bad. They had cable and everything. And I didn’t even have to cook. I made a few friends. Got a few unwanted tattoos. You know, the usual stuff one does when they get arrested. I’m sure most of my readers are familiar with that.

Once the guards determined that I was not a threat, they allowed me to continue crashing into the parked cars as long as I gave them time to move their own vehicles to an area where I promised not to ride. They made me sign an affidavit and everything. I waved goodbye and rode happily along until I stumbled across something that made me stop in my tracks. Right there before my eyes was something I couldn’t exactly comprehend because I couldn’t think of a reason for it to be there.

Here is exhibit A:

What the crap!?!?!?!

What the crap!?!?!?!

After riding up on this thing that I have lovingly called a machete case, I immediately looked up into the trees to see if I could spot Rambo, or the U.S. Army, or O. J. for any insight as to why such an item would be there at the edge of a corporate office parking lot. I saw nothing. I scanned the perimeter a second time and still saw nothing outside of the norm. If I were ever called in as an eye witness, the only thing I would be able to describe would be leaves and brick buildings.

It was around about that time that my sense of self-preservation kicked in. After all, I am from Baltimore. One of the first lessons I learned as a toddler, before learning numbers and ABCs, was to run if you saw other people running and to ask questions later. My mother taught me to stay with the herd or else! I remember her sitting me in front of the TV for hours watching what happened to baby gazelles who didn’t keep up with their mothers when the lions and tigers showed up. It scarred me for life, but I never forgot that lesson. You should see me when I stumble across people running around a track. Even if I’m in a three-piece suit, I just start running as if a tiger will show up at any minute. Thanks, Mom. #LifeLessons.

Right about then, the knees that had been crying a few moments before began screaming instead. They gave me an ultimatum: either I leave the scene at that very moment or they were going to detach themselves and head home alone. I couldn’t argue with them. They threatened to call my mom. I took my 68-year-old legs and got to moving as quickly as I could. Those knees are the only reason I’m here to tell the story.

All of that noted, I sincerely hoped to be more prepared for bikini season. After all, I started preparing for this season 10 years ago when I decided that 2016 would be the year that I would go to the beach without wearing three sets of Spanx under my trunks. It’s ok, though. All is certainly not lost. I just found a website that will show me how to lose 50 pounds in 3 days. Wow!!!! If I lost 50 pounds every three days for the next 4 months, maybe I’d be able to squeeze into a large Snuggie by my birthday in October. Wish me luck. Oh crap!!! Wendy’s is having a sale on cheeseburgers. I’ll be back!!!

Michael Rochelle
Access my full blog: http://www.justmichael.net/blog
Add me on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/michael.rochelle1

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