Friday, July 17, 2015

Satan's Arsehole.

Satan's arsehole couldn't be hotter than the hell I just went through.

Over the years I've regaled you with stories of some of my spicier adventures. Those that haven't heard it secondhand have witnessed how much I like spicy food. And know the fact that I'm up for some serious mucous membrane searing action if there's enough money or kudos up for grabs. They talked about that Dave's insanity sauce hot wings challenge for YEARS after that 4th of July BBQ. I ENJOY wasabi by the tablespoon with sushi. Habaneros and Wiri Wiris etc anything up to about 400,000 scovilles I have both enjoyed and been tortured by over the years. And I've never had any come back up, instead it all went out the way Ghandi's Revenge (as Billy Connolly calls it) should, in a southerly direction. I know to draw the line at Ghost peppers and have no intention of trying a Carolina Reaper, unless it's seriously tamed.
In short, I like spicy food.
Tonight, I had a simple Mexicana pizza from a local pizza shop, and I struggled to finish my second small slice. Soft drink, garlic bread, nothing helped this sucker go away, except time. It was that sneaky hot too, that you think you've stopped before it got too bad, but it only got hotter and hotter for a good half an hour afterwards.
This is even with some of my tastebuds and pain receptors compromised by MS-induced numbness!
And then like a fool, I believed all was well. I feel like the ignorant sucker who innocently stood there and watched the eerie phenomenon of the waves silently retreating out of the cove..not understanding the full terror that was rushing towards me all too quickly
I'm betting most of us have regurgitated in our sleep, either through over eating or drinking or illness. Or know someone who has or can at least imagine what it feels like. It's never pleasant at the best of times.
Now, imagine your stomach has happily digested just about every part of this aforementioned pizza from hell, and anything else you ate prior to that EXCEPT a few stringy bits of stuff and the chilli oil slick that was floating oh so innocently on top of your stomach acid.
Stay with wake up with that oil slick coating every mucous membrane in your throat, mouth, nose and you desperately try not to breathe it back into your lungs.
Yeah, painful, right?
In desperation, I asked Alaskaboy to grab me a bucket in case I didn't make it, and then I ran to the bathroom and vomited up as much as I could into the sink. After rinsing my mouth out, thinking it would help bring up whatever was going on in there, I drank about 500 mls nice cool water.
It only made it worse. It didn't dilute the oil, it simply increased the surface area the damn slick could spread out over and tenfold increased the number of tsunamis I had to endure surging up and out.
The chilli queen has been deposed by two small slices of pizza. Oh, the embarrassment!