I had nachos for dinner tonight and got way too liberal with the hot sauce and jalapeno peppers. Law have mercy! My lips were burning like someone was lighting them with a blow torch. And yet I could not stop eating. The flames barely had half a second to recede before I put some more fire in my mouth.
I suffered through a rather large plate of nachos, and it never got any easier. Each bite was as hot as the last, and just as painful, and yet it was not a deterrent for me to cease stuffing myself.
The weird thing is that it burned like hot tar on the equator on my lips and into my mouth, but once it headed to my throat, it didn’t burn anymore. All the way down the chute to my stomach, I didn’t feel a thing.
This makes sense, when you think about it. Your lips and mouth are like two Buckingham Palace guards – they’re not going to let anything in that would do you any harm. If those guys can take the red-hot fire of spicy food, then they must figure that your cast iron stomach should do just fine.
I’ve popped things in my mouth and discovered that they were too freaking hot – like they’ve come out of an oven in Hades. When that happens I don’t spit it out, I simply make a big “O” with my mouth and say, “Hot! Hot! Hot!” and fan it a few times with my hand. And then I swallow the blistering lump so it quits burning – once it gets past a point, I can’t feel it anymore.
This is a wonder of biological engineering – a miracle of the human body.
On the other hand, some things go in your mouth all nice and easy-like, for instance the beans I had for lunch today, and then later they raise a ruckus in your digestive system like Tasmanian devils wrestling in the eye of a hurricane.
But I am not going to let this deteriorate into a discussion about flaming bottoms and lighting matches to see if they can ignite a blow torch when a person passes gas, and so forth.
Why can I NOT seem to get past bathroom humor?
When I went with my writer’s group to a retreat a few weeks ago, one of the members gave us each and “award.” Mine was for Humor. The one line summary she’d written about me on the award was, “Wait, wait – I have to go to the bathroom.” That pretty much sums me up – I don’t want to miss anything, hence the “wait, wait,” but the bathroom is always close by – either in my writing, in my talking, or when I’m rushing for it because of some extremely spicy food I had no business eating.
Okay, speaking of the toilet I have to tell a story, but it will need to wait until tomorrow because it’s too long for tonight when the bed is calling and my eyelids are as heavy as a full bladder. See, I just can’t get away from bodily functions……