June 13, 2012

An Open Letter to Hot Sauce

You spicy little bitch, you.  

I see the way you sit there on my shelf, taunting me with your red glow, beckoning me to pick you up and cradle you in my arms. I see the way your label warns me that you’re going to burn, and you know what? I don’t even care. I don’t love you in spite of the pain you cause, I love you because of the pain you cause.
You get me. You get inside of me like no one else. (Heh. Gross)

You play on my food like a drunk skank on the dancefloor. By which I mean, you’re messy and I like it.  You get all over my fingers (let’s back away from the skank analogy now) and I’m okay with that, but we have an agreement, remember? Stay the fuck out of my eyes. I know you’ve stuck your spicy self in there before, and we managed to get through it, but times were rough for awhile and I didn’t like not being able to trust you.   Please don’t make me question you again. We have something special. 

Together, you and I are invincible. The tasteless, grey world of cheap, shitty food is not of concern to us. We dominate that shit and make it our bitch. When all is said and done, I can bask in the orgasmic burn of my stinging tongue, satisfied by a job well done. You kick me from the inside to remind me you’re still there. Thank you for that. I remember you fondly when you’re gone. (Mostly. I’ll avoid talking about burning poop. For now.)

But you know what, you crazy, firey SOB? There once was a time when you and I were not friends. I’d look right past you in the fridge; I’d turn you down at restaurants. I’d walk by your slender, crimson body as I wondered what was missing from my bland, melancholic pizza. It was you all along. You were the banana to my peanut butter.  I could tell from your demeanor that you had been waiting for me to grab you and envelop your spicy, glorious juices with my eager taste buds. And you know what? I did just that. Oh yes, I fucking did. And you were everything a person could ever want in their mouth. And you still are.

Just stay away from my snatch, k?




I decided to surf the internetz to find other hot sauce lovers.  Together, we can conquer anything. (Especially Queen Booty. She looks like she could take a lot. Ifyouknowwhatimean.)

That's me, last weekend. (No it's not. I have a bigger beard.)

Enrique likes it hot. (That's his real name, guys. I'm not racist)

Dear Queen Booty, do you put that shit on everything?

THIS GUY wants some spice in his life.

Even Tits McGee likes it hot!

Tell me, friends, do you like it hot? 


  1. Hot sauce on popcorn is the best. You should try it. If you like popcorn.

  2. I love hot sauce so much it hurts.. but it doesn't really hurt, because I'm convinced I don't have taste buds anymore. Suicide wings taste like pathetic EMO wings and Red Hot is like Red Lukewarm. Still tasty as fuck though.
    But my one true hot love? THAI curry dishes. OM MF G. I always get it "thai hot", which is the hottest you can order it. "You oda thai hot? Its ver spice, you may not rike it" They always say. And I laugh, 'cause 1. they talk fast and it sounds funny, and 2. I order it that way every time and they seem to think I'm joking.
    It's not even that hot to me, honestly. I miss when hot food used to give me a slight sheen of tit/brow sweat.

    1. I am so happy we share a love of heat.

      Additionally, I was at a comedy show last night and was checking my messages in the washroom when I saw this comment. I was laughing to myself in the stall. So, thanks for that. I love looking crazy. ;)

  3. OMG... or this stuff: http://theoatmeal.com/comics/sriracha

  4. I LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE LOVE L-O-V-E hot sauce! From pizza, to eggs, to salad to whatever I love hot sauce. What I don't love is how hot sauce treats me on the way out. The burn, the flames, hot sauce poo....no bueno.

    1. Pizza and eggs are MANDATORY hot sauce items. Hands down.

      And yes, hot sauce poops. Not a good time. But it's worth it.

  5. I love hot sauce. Really, I just like anything spicy. A local bakery here makes cayenne brownies. They are fucking amazing.

    1. OH YUM. I want that in my mouth, pronto!

  6. I like the stuff just a little, but don't tell my family that. Mexicans are supposed to love that crap, and I just can't Further proof that I am adopted.

    1. Mexicans don't like hot sauce? That feels very counter-intuitive...

  7. Little chocolate shop in Louisville has Chili Truffles. I miss Louisville.