A week ago Angus was working late and I made dinner. Paella, I thought. I was muy caliente and rocked the Spanish vibe. I debated making sangria but remembered Angus didn’t like sangria, so settled for drinking red wine directly out of the bottle and then alternating with a swig of orange juice to get that zesty feel.
Part of the paella recipe called for slicing up a red chili. Now, I am what is known in culinary circles as A Pussy. Born into a Japanese household I take my food bland, thank you very much. I know, I know – this is where people say “But you lived in Texas!” Why yes I did. I did indeed. But they don’t test you before you cross the border on a scale of 1-10 in terms of hot food handling. You are not required to absorb a Guatalaman Insanity Pepper and then hum “She’s a Grand Old Flag” to prove your worth. Texas is just Texas, A Pussy is still just A Pussy.
Where you live has nothing to do with how you can tolerate food. I lived in North Carolina and I still hate barbecue. I lived in Sweden and I won’t touch Swedish meatballs. And I live here but you can take your chocolate orange and shove it, because those two things just do not belong together.
So there I was, slicing up a chili. I have a patented chili slicing method whereby I am able to avoid any contact whatsoever with said purveyor of evil. Chili is scary. Chili is bad. Angus takes his food with massive amounts of chili but I, as discussed, am A Pussy.
I get the paella on to cook, wash my hands to ensure no cross-contamination of the bastardo chili pepper. I sit down on the couch and flip on a Doctor Who episode. I relax. I scratch my upper lip.
Instantly, the whole world turns red.
I start racing around and shouting, which in turn ignites Gorby into thinking it’s playtime. Tears stream down my face. I am barely able to make out the problem through the tears, but there it is – a chili seed lodged just under my fingernail, the same nail I scratched my face with.
I race into the kitchen and wash the area off. It still burns. I hold ice cubes to it. The burning continues. I snap off an arm of aloe vera and smear it all over my face, but then that doesn’t work as I immediately start to burn, slam on another ice cube, then have foul tasting aloe vera dripping into my mouth. I race to the computer in the study to research what I can use to stop the burning. I am in so much pain I am prepared to kindly and lovingly slit the stomach open of a virgin squirrel should it tell me that the esophagus of a virgin squirrel is the only thing that can help.
Dairy products, the web tells me. It applies to a burning tongue but I have nothing to lose. I want to rip my face off it hurts so bad. I race into the kitchen and grab the first dairy product I can find – peach yogurt.
I slather it all over my face.
Instant cooling relief, all with a refreshing peach fragrance. I take the pot and sit on the couch, occasionally covering the bottom half of my face in sweet, sweet dairy heaven. I am able to breathe. I am happy. I smell like I ran into an orchard, but fuckit, I am no longer in pain.
Just then, the door opens. Angus comes striding in. He stops, staring at me. I realize that I am in my pajamas, sitting on the couch, Doctor Who on pause and the bottom half of my face covered in a thick white dairy product.
My mind starts to whir. Um…I’ve been slimed. I’m filling in for Santa Claus, going as Dairy Claus. I ran into the Swiss Miss. I was the loser in a run-in with a Hostess Creme Filling machine.
But no. You know what my mind pulls out and inserts into my mouth?
“Drive by jizzing,” I say nonchalantly.
Angus nods. “At least he smells of peach,”
“Yeah that’s a perk,” I reply.
-H.
Go on – just watch this for the NSPCC!
Make me feel loved! Go on! Sign the Guest Map!
Imagine the possibilities! Peach-flavored is just the beginning! Triple-berry Delight! Or, you know, the same old vanilla.
You’re a sick ticket. And that’s one of my most favorite things about you.
You crack me up!
This? Right here? This is why I love you!
cracking up over here. I just fed the babies peach yogurt for breakfast, and now I see it in a whole new light. thanks!
Tears. Streaming. Down. My. Face.
That is all.
Holy crap! That is so funny!
Oh. My. Lord. You are hilarious.
Just be glad it was your face and not your eye. I am Not A Pussy, but I have occasionally sliced a chili and not washed my hands thoroughly enough before removing my contacts, and liking to eat spicy food has jack to do with whether or not chili oil in your eye hurts like a sonofabitch or not.
Sadly enough, I knew your answer would be along those lines.
Even worse, I still laughed until tears ran out of my eyes….
damn, you’re good!
One of your very best. I laugh and I laugh.
LOL!! Too funny. At least you were able to think on your feet.
http://www.aaron-n-jen.com/2008/02/hmm.html
Yeah, I’ve had that happen too (but my story was incredibly boring. I’ll have to retype it up to be more amusing). Dairy did NOT work.
Hilarious on the comment, girl. I almost peed my pants from laughing.
You don’t like Terry’s Chocolate Orange?!* It’s over, we are no longer friends…..jizz face.
Oh man, after the day I’ve had I totally needed that laugh… sorry that it had to be at your expense, but that was GOLD!
Shit, “jizzing” is not in the dictionary, what’s it mean? I did’t get it…
Made my day! Terry’s right – THIS is exactly why we all love you!
PS: Paula, see explanation 2 at http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/jizz
Beautiful! :-)
Can I have your chocolate orange?
And this is why I keep coming back every day!! My hubby and I got a good kick out of this one. Great Job Helen!!! You are the best.
OMG! Freakin’ hilarious! My stomach hurts… :)
It’s after midnight here and I am laughing like a loon!
Hee!
* I have totally done that with onions and peppers both only I rubbed my eyes. Ouch. I hope it’s better now.
* I love those chocolate oranges!
* I put peach “yuggurt* in my smoothies – now it’s all a mess. ;-)
Keep on doing what you do so well. :O)
Freaking hilarious! Sadly, my first thought ran to jizz as well.
Hilarious. And possibly delicious.
L
Thanks for the laugh!
My wife did something worse. She was working with hot peppers on a dish, then tried to take out her contact lenses.
I was raised by someone who ritualistically reads “The Cajun Night Before Christmas” and serves gumbo ’round the 25th, and while I don’t consider myself A Pussy in the department of spicy, I did eat a massive amount of questionably dirty snow after accidentally running into some hot sauce with my tongue last year. So…yeah. I feel ya.
Helen, I have to admit that I didn’t see that punchline coming. That was seriously funny stuff.
BTW, I had my own habanero experience, in which I, after cutting several of the Hottest Peppers In the World, promptly scratched my nose and, because I had to pee, my groin. Let’s just say that I’m glad no one was around the house. Running around with ice on your nose and your johnson isn’t something you do in front of just anyone. To cap it all off, I put my contacts in the next morning when I woke. Surprise, surprise, the heat had not miraculously vanished overnight.
God that was funny. I’m still around, and if you get this message that means I’ve found away around the library’s “porn” filter.
Very funny. Good thing it wasn’t that other one. Not sure about how to find a virgin squirrel.
So sorry for your pain, but OMG, that was a great punch line you gave Dh. Bahhahahaha!