high on buffalo

At Friendly’s for dinner this evening and I decided on the chicken tenders – with Buffalo sauce.

Now, I’m not normally one for sauce – largely because of this PSA that hit me at a very impressionable age.

Don’t Drown Your Food

As I’ve gotten older, my tastes have changed and I like a little extra kick to my food. Hence the Buffalo sauce.  (Oh, and don’t get me started on Wasabi.)

The sauce was on the side in a little container and I started my meal by dunking a french fry. And it was good. So, I dunked again and got a little bit more.

And then inhaled at exactly the wrong moment and a blast of Buffalo sauce rocketed up into my sinuses.

And my brain caught fire. Literally, as it turns out – if we’re talking about a chemical burn.

Once I recovered, I went after more. And more. Plowing through my fries, I was a man on a mission.

A man, possessed.

It occurred to me that the initial pain might have released a flood of endorphins and that I might have gotten high off of the pain of the Buffalo sauce.

I explained this to Jim as I continued to shove Buffalo laden french fries in my face.

He sighed, then politely said, “Sometimes you’re more strange than other times,”

… guess I can’t really argue with that.

I finished off the fries and the chicken. And now, much later in the evening,  I’m not feeling that great.  Just a well that didn’t make good on my threat to drink the last of the sauce.

I think I need a Tums.