So I have been somewhat an asshole lately. Just a real dick. Maybe it's seasonal aggravation that I have to be stuck inside, or that I have a real adversion to anything "adulty", OR (and I'm really hoping it's the case) I'm purging all this dickishness to possibly being nice again. Fingers crossed.
However this weekend I was served my karmic dish. In a way to even the scales, the universe bitch slapped me in the face with a sting. A real sting.
Universe- 1. Me-0.
Planned to get together with friends for the Super Bowl and decided to make and bring something. No big deal, right?
Music blaring and a few drinks in and I decide I am at the right fucked-upness to really Master Chef the shit out of this dish. Dancing, stirring, drinking, etc. I'm winning at this so far.
For a brief second I think to glove my hands before cutting up the jalapeños, but dismiss the notion. Clearly I've channeled some amazing chef cause I'm really hitting on markers, all flavors, I'm ON IT. This will prove to be a poor decision in hindsight.
So- continuing sans gloves. It's not noticeable at first (probably from the liquor) and I get the whole thing into the oven. My next moves will be the footpath to my demise. As I'm finishing reading the rest of the recipe, I start pinching and rubbing my lips, a nervous quirk when I'm focused on something. My eyes start tearing up and I realize it's the jalapeño juice. That fucking green pepper jizzed Satans spunk all over of my hands. I went and washed my hand furiously, rubbing the soapy lather over my mouth and rinsed. I thought I had cured it. And with my freshly cleaned hands I rubbed the tear from my eyes and proceeded into the other room to change my clothes (who knows were this jalapeño ended up-cooking should come with a hazmat suit).
Before I even made it to my room my eyes were on fire and starting to swell. In my mind I imagined my tears were like flares, catching everything on fire where they landed. IT. WAS. FUCKING. BRUTAL. So I rinsed my face- awful fucking idea as it spread and now I was breathing it in.
So needless to say, every inch of my body was tingling for most of Sunday.
Fuck you, universe.