The fiance and I were spending the weekend at Andee and her husband's house to watch football games and drink beer and suck at ladderball and then do old cheerleader dances in the driveway. Everything had been going so well, untill Andee in her bid for domestic goddess-ity roped me into making cream cheese-stuffed jalepenos wrapped in bacon. They sounded delicious, actually, but I like to go places--I think they call them "restaurants"--and have food brought to me, magically hot and ready to eat. But I'm a good friend, and so I said I'd help. Big mistake. HUGE mistake.
Big, huge, BURNING mistake.
I cut the jalapenos in half and scooped out their little insides. After I put the last hollowed-out little jalepeno corpse into the bowl, I KNEW that I needed to wash my hands. I don't know how I knew to wash my hands--I've never handled any peppers other than bell peppers and so I can only say that God led me to wash my hands because even though what happened next was awful, what could have happened had I not washed my hands would have been so much worse.
Because after I washed my hands, I scratched my nose. And caught my nose on fire.
I mean, ON FIRE. It was BURNING. I started panicking. As I panicked, my nose got hotter. I went to the bathroom to rinse my nose off.
The burning only intensified.
I ran to Andee's computer and Googled "jalepeno nose burn" and found out why--apparently water reactivates the chemical in peppers that makes them burn. Fan-f*cking-tastic. The only solution was milk. Did Andee have any milk in the fridge? Sure she did.
But it was sour.
Sour milk. Up my nose. I would have thrown up in my mouth at just the thought of it if my nose hadn't been as red as Rudolph's and did I mention ON FIRE?
So Andee ran to her neighbor's house and returned with a red Dixie cup of milk. Which my face did not fit into. I almost started crying, I was so frustrated and oh yeah, MY NOSE WAS ON FIRE. So we poured the milk in a bowl and just slammed my entire face in there. Sweet, sweet relief.
Which is why I'm packing milk when we go to Baton Rouge this weekend. Because Robert Pattinson is definitely hotter than a jalepeno. And I'm not going to be caught unprepared ever again.