hott soss

Sunday, February 7, 2010

Last year I really got into hot sauce. It’s actually probably the only thing that I liked at the beginning AND end of 2009… that and Darien. You know that feeling when you’ve just finished a taco that was soaked in Tapatio and your ears hurt and feel watery and you start to get a headache? That’s the sweet pain that teenagers, movie stars and gay men are seeking when they cut themselves. I wish I could mail a bottle of hot sauce to every moody person in the world and say “This is the slap in the face you’ve been craving, my friend. Tell your parents to cancel your health insurance and buy you some chicken to pour this crap on. No more therapy appointments for you. The only therapy you need is the feeling you get when you’ve eaten something so amazingly spicy that you feel like your entire face will melt off. That’s called inner peace. That’s what that song ‘Hurts So Good’ was all about. You remember that song? Nah? C’mon! You’re aging me! I can’t afford to feel old today! I’m only 23.”

Thing is, I refuse to buy a whole bottle of it because once I start keeping it in my fridge, I’m going to start keeping it in my purse and then you know what comes next? I’m going to be one of those ladies that walks around with condiments in my purse. Like a bottle of dijon mustard or something. And I don’t even like the way dijon mustard tastes. At all. But it’s a realistic fear.