Getting Sauced

It's seems like everybody I know has
been talking about this hot sauce. There is even a commercial with an
old lady on it that says she puts it on everything. So, the other
night, I made a late night run to Kroger while I was hungry. Thirty
minutes later I was sitting down in front of the TV with a bucket of
pasta before me . I slathered on the Sriracha and Parmesan cheese and
was starving. It was  like a one man pasta eating contest...and I was
winning.



I was, I don't know, mid-bucket and I
suddenly came to the realization that my mouth was on fire. My taste
buds were numb, my gums were throbbing and my lips were growing....or
at least they felt like they were growing.



As I sniffled and wiped back the tears,
I wondered why in the world people like hot and spicy food. I've
never been a fan of it but for some reason, at that moment , with
half a bucket of flaming pasta staring at me, daring my fork to make
a move, I became a fan. I'm not sure what that was all about but
adding that layer of zing to the food, somehow appealed to me for the
first time.



I'm afraid that I am now addicted to
that inferno sensation and I  want to add it to everything.
Fortunately , I have a limited cooking knowledge so it I just going
on pasta. I think later on this summer, when I figure out how to put
a grill together, I'll make some kind of fresh off the grill fake
burger and add some of this sauce to it. My fear is that I am going
to find it is made out of some toxic chemicals, crack, Sudafed or
something and then take it off the market . I finally get “feel the
burn”.  No more need for the gym, I've got all the burn I could
ever need in a bottle. It even makes me sweat...and I don't mind. I'm
not too worried though. I am almost withing walking distance to an
Asian market that sells dehydrated endangered sea creatures in clear
plastic bags. I am pretty sure I will always be able  to order a case
of sauce from them.


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Proud Peggy Keep on Rolling

Wouldn't you know, after talking about
assumed names at Starbucks, that I would have “an incident”.
Yesterday I went to a Starbucks (location to remain secret) and used
my usual fake first name of “Perry”. I like that name and that is
how I am referred to at that location. It's not that far off, much
closer to my first name that “Ray Ray Crackson” that is used in
other locations. So, I sat there in the always crowded coffee shop,
waiting on my “heaven in a cup” and I heard the barista call out
name after name and I watched people react like they had just won the
lottery when they would hear their name called. Then it
happened...the incident...I heard him call out,
“Peggy..................Peggy......................Is there a
Peggy..............”? Well no one jumped up to claim their brew and
we all started looking around at each other wondering if the real
Peggy was going to stand up? Had someone forgotten their fake
identity name? I could see people looking and searching and we all
had that, “Who's Peggy? Where's Peggy? Is she in the bathroom? Is
Peggy wearing earphones? Is she hearing impaired? What's the deal
with Peggy? Why is she so slow?” look on our faces.



There was no Peggy.



Then, the barista called out the order
and I immediately knew that it was mine. I jumped up and let out an
“Oh!” and hopped up to the counter while all eyes were on me. I
let the guy know that my name was actually, at this Starbucks
location, “Perry”. He looked at me and the writing on the cup and
said, “Whatever” and walked off. REALLY? Did he just “whatever”
me? Did he have no customer service training? I don't know why but it
shook me up. I stopped myself from acting insulted and decided to not
let his rudeness ruin my frozen chocolate coffee experience.



It's times like this that I sometimes
miss what is important. All I could think about was the “whatever”
when what I should have been doing was thinking about turning around
and addressing the crowded room of caffeine addicts who were trying
to get their buzz on, and letting them know that my fake first name
was Perry, not Peggy. That never entered my mind until I drove off.
No,instead,  I grabbed my Peggy-shake, turned around at the counter,
held my somewhat insulted head high and walked out the door (like any
proud Peggy should do).



So, as I drove down the interstate, it
hit me that  I had just left a room full of people sitting there
thinking that they had just met a slow reacting guy named “Peggy”.
They may be thinking I am in “transition” as my hair is a bit
long right now. I can only imagine their version of the story. There
is no need in going back to try to explain; it will be a different
crowd. I think I will just stay away from that location for a while.
FYI, the Peggy-shake was delicious.