Only while covered in vomit.

So yesterday was awful. My youngest woke up from a nap burning up, proceeded to vomit all over  me, and then had a febrile seizure. And of course I was a train wreck calling for an ambulance. And in the ambulance. And at the hospital. Just a hot mess all over. She ended up being just fine and is back to plotting the worlds takeover right after Sesame Street. Bless her little heart. 

As I sat and thought late last night, going over everything that had happened, and doing the mom wind down, what I uncovered was right on par for my life. 

I could look put together and adorable and run into LITERALLY no one I would be attracted to or want. Like spending the whole day with the cast from the Hills have Eyes. 

Yesterday. YESTERDAY! Although I changed my shirt out before running into the ambulance I still had that aromatic smell of curdled milk and self loathing. The police officer- hot. The doctor- hot. Both sweet but when they got within 3 feet of me that twinkle in their eye vanished- with a quickness!  Hilarious. 

And so it goes- Universe -2. Me -0. 

It burns.

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.