Why Are We Even Here?

I’ve talked before about my weird little office with all the people who have worked together 20+ years. They have their own little habits and eccentricities. They have their regular places to eat. One of the most common amongst these is a Thai restaurant. It’s actually called Thai Place. So…super creative.

What they lack in creativity they make up for in some really amazing Thai food. I always get the basil fried rice. Susan always gets the pineapple fried rice. Most people get the pad Thai. We are all creatures of habit.

The food is very spicy. They give you the option of no spice,mild, mild plus, medium, medium plus, hot, and Thai hot. Everyone gets no spice, mild, or mild plus. If you want more than that they all freak out on you. ALL of them. EVERY time. “Watch out!” they’ll say, or, “Are you sure?” “You’re going to burn your mouth.” “You’re going to regret it.”

Bitches, please. My mother drank straight taco sauce when she was pregnant with me. I can handle my shit. I like it spicy. If my sinuses aren’t clear by the end of the meal then it’s a fail. I only just get the medium. It makes my lips burn and my nose run. The food there is fucking hot. One of the men orders his food hot. He’s my idol. No one has ever ordered Thai hot. I’m working my way up to that.

It’s just like, why did you come here, then? If you wanted bland Asian food you could have taken your ass to the Panda Express. If I’m paying $15-$16 dollars for a fucking plate of combination basil fried rice, I want to feel that delicious burn. I’m not here to play.

It is very hot food and when I eat there without my coworkers, I will admit to that. However, when I eat there with them I have to act like nothing is wrong. I must show no signs of weakness. No, my mouth isn’t on fire. No, I don’t need more water. I’m fine.

I’m just so afraid they are going to say, “I told you so.” I hate being told, “I told you so,” more than pretty much anything on earth. Especially when they did tell me so, I heard them. I disagreed and I still disagree. Now, just because I’m actually crying out of my eyes, you think you were right? You weren’t. I like this pain. I think the flavor is worth it. Also, it should be noted, I ain’t no punk bitch. I have endured tougher stuff in my life than hot food. Mind your business.

My food is spicy but I am salty.




10 thoughts on “Why Are We Even Here?”

  1. I can take spicy food up to a certain point, but when within the first few bites of tasting it I need to reach for the ice water, and my tongue starts feeling as if it is being burnt by tiny hot coals and then that spice overload hits the outer edges of my lips and my whole head starts to burn, I know it is time to quit.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. It was more about cheap food (only cost me 50 cents) that was super filling (because the bread was that thick Texas toast) and high in calories. My boss at the time was a royal jerk and a half who wouldn’t let anyone (not even pregnant me WHO HAD A DOCTOR’S NOTE) take breaks longer than a bathroom break. I couldn’t afford the $1 or so it would’ve cost to add a hamburger patty.

        Liked by 1 person

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