Sunday, September 14, 2008

Shitting Fire: A Post For The Ladies

I went with a friend of mine to Buffalo Wild Wings yesterday and, since then, I've been shitting fire like I swallowed a blowtorch from Satan's chop shop deep in the bowels of Hell (pun totally intended). Like, I don't want to get too graphic or anything, because I'd feel bad if the entire internet started puking because of me, but damn, kids... fucking DAMN. It's partially my fault because I'm one of those deeply insecure dudes... probably due to the number of Original Cast Recordings that I own... who feels they have to do all their overcompensating for their girly shortcomings in the area of spicy foods. So, while I would have enjoyed a sensible medium-spicy wing sauce or even a mellow, flavorful Parmesan-Garlic, I ended up going for the "Hot" variety, which is pretty close to the "Blazin' Nuclear Deathballs" flavor, but not quite (I'm not a sadist, after all). Basically my goal was to get a flavor hotter than what my boy got, just so I could feel like a big, big man. My one-upmanship OF COURSE went completely unnoticed and so I ended up with a plate of chicken wings that were deeply, deeply spicy and hurtful and said mean things about my mother and laughed off the liberal dunkings in bleu cheese like the monster in Cloverfield shrugging off missile attacks from a tank, all for naught.

But, look, I'd be lying if I said they weren't delicious; that the whole exercise of eating brutal wings was horrible and made me wish I were somewhere boring eating bland toast with a spoon. They were still Buffalo Wild Wings, which means they were a minefield of amazing taste sensations amid an array of sports-related programing that makes the Dude part of my brain go "aaaaahhhhhh." I ate every single wing and smiled while I did so, even if my tongue was a little pissed at me and my lips were like, "you motherfucker."

The real problems started after I got home; after I'd had a chance to digest all that cayenne pepper. That's when I started shitting. A lot. And every single visit to the bathroom was like someone had maced my butthole with military-grade pepper spray. So not cool... so painful and sad and now I'm scared to ever poo again because it feels like I'm going through a blasted landscape of open wounds. Seriously, I think I need to check out my "exit door" with a hand mirror because I'm afraid it's nothing but a wad of ground beef that used to be my colon. I mean, I know it's probably not but, Jesus, what if it IS!!! What if the hot sauce has ruined my ass and I have to spend the rest of my life shitting through a tube into a bag labeled "pathetic?"

God, I might just kill myself. Or, whatever, get really drunk and throw my poop at people. That could be fun too. Anyway, so that's my weekend. Painful doo-doos and the crisis of the mind that followed.

In other news, ZFS has been nominated for the Classy Awards and is expected to sweep all categories. My acceptance speech will be delivered from a men's room where a drifter just died. See you on the red carpet!!!


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Stay strong, brother.

I've had an ongoing battle with the habanero salsa at one of the burrito stands down the street from my office for months now, with nearly every skirmish ending with horrible stomach pains and fire poo.

But I'm happy to say that, on Friday, I kicked it's fucking ass and barely had a rumbly tummy afterward.

So the point is, you just need to eat those same bastards about 15 more times and your pooper will be so calloused you'll no longer feel the burn.

Poop poop poop!

1:29 PM  
Blogger AndSheWas said...

This post made me laugh. A lot.

Your butthole will probably start to get raw from all the wiping, too. I think you should just make like an astronaut and wear an adult diaper while coping with the trots. I'm always tempted to do that when they affect me.

3:12 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

wow. just wow. and to think i can drink a bottle of pico pico a day and have no ill affects since i was 5....ur lame.

4:17 PM  
Blogger The Unbearable Banishment said...

We’ve all been there my young, foolish, musical loving friend. Jesus. Take care of your anis. It’s the only one you’ll ever get. Big man.

4:18 PM  
Blogger Braden said...

I checked with the judges, and they would also have accepted the following titles:

- "Ring of Fire"

- "Enema Mine"

- "Splash!"

7:26 PM  
Blogger Clinton said...

Justin... You gotta watch out with Habeneros. Them bastards will rip you up like you ate a hacksaw.

And She Was... Sure, laugh at my pain (oh wait that was my intent). Thanks! And yeah, about the wiping... sadly true.

Tepest... First I'm amazing, now I'm lame. Mixed messages make me sad, Tepest.

The UB... I'm taking my anus out for a nice lunch and a theraputic spa treatment, just to say I'm sorry.

Braden... Originally, it was "Fireshittin'," but I didn't want to make light of the situation.

10:42 PM  
Blogger Todd said...

Oh man brother... I hope you picked up some wet wipes!

1:23 AM  
Blogger Braden said...

"Fire, Shit With Me" ?

12:04 PM  
Blogger stew said...

you know what I love about this blog? no oversharing.

4:53 PM  
Blogger ML said...

hemorrhoid cream maybe?

by the way, your Original Cast recordings are appreciated by yours truly, if no one else.

also, I must have some sort of manly spicy-stuff need too, because I fuckin' LOVE hot sauce. almost as much as I love shoes... almost.

7:17 PM  

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