Big Daddy Paul

I love hot sauce.  My favorite food in the whole wide world is a taco from a taco truck in Bakersfield, drenched in amazing “shit fire” sauce.  I have been working towards coming up with my own version of the hot sauce for a while, but today, that search ended.

I roasted some tomatillos, onions and a lone habanero under the broiler for a few moments to try today’s recipe.  In order to get them ready, I cut sliced the tomatillos and onion, and cut open the habanero to remove the seeds.  This, of course, required me to touch the habanero with my fingers.  I dropped the ingredients off into the oven, and then went to go use the bathroom.  Afterwards, as I was washing my hands, 30 seconds late, in retrospect, I began to feel a very painful burning sensation in my neenee.  (I get a lot of visitors on my blog looking for adult content given that my title contains the words “Big Daddy,” so I will tell this story using children’s names for the male reproductive organ.  That way, no perverts will stumble their way on to my site accidentally.  I want the perverts here for the content on purpose!)

So, my neenee was burning.  Before you jump to conclusions that my extramarital affairs have somehow left me with nasty diseases, this burning sensation occurred AFTER I zipped up.  The sensation was painful and abrupt, like I had just fallen down naked in a campfire.  I finally realized what had happened (I got habanero juice on my peenee) and the burning was so strong I needed to extinguish it immediately. I dropped trou and got on Malcolm ’s stepstool to lift myself into position over the sink and then flooded the area with the water from the faucet.  Thank god for pullout sprayers!  As I stood with my pants down and my business at eye level for my neighbor’s window and still in pain, I decided that I needed a new approach.

As it now felt like I had glued hot charcoals to my winky, I sprinted upstairs and attempted to use some lotion to extinguish the pain.  This didn’t work, and I kept hopping around the house muffling my screams.  I rifled through the medicine cabinet and found some medicated menthol powder, which I liberally applied to the affected area.  This seemed to make things worse, and my weewee tried to recoil in agony back into my body cavity; the powder caked thing looked like  a sad little gnocchi.

I finally removed the remainder of my clothes hopped into the shower, and then screamed loudly when hot water touched the burn zone.  I am not sure hot water made things worse, but at the very least it gave the gnocchi some form again, like re-hydrating some mushrooms.  I applied soap liberally with cold water and that seemed to stem the tide, although I could still feel the effects an hour later.  I took some ibuprofen, and I am thinking about a shot or two of Jaeger to deal with the after effects.  Needless to say, everything in the oven was burned to a crisp.

People, if you work with habaneros, please use gloves.  If you don’t use gloves, carefully wash you hands after touching the peppers.  I won’t worry about this stuff, because I will never, ever use habaneros again.  There is a good chance I won’t ever use my neenee again, but I’m hoping that time heals all.

Tags: paul does silly things

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