Feel the burn

Anyone who's ever gone to a Thai, New Mexican or Chinese joint with me knows I like to bring the heat.

Phad Prik Khing? Make it 10 out of 10.

A veggie tamale? Hit me with the hottest red and green chili sauces.

Kung Pao Tofu? Put a bunch of those seared hot peppers in there, baby.

Some of you may remember the notorious chipotle in adobo chili soup incident in college. That stuff was so freaking hot I could literally see steam shooting out my navel. (Note: I don't use literally literally.)

I thought I was going to surpass that lore this weekend. A business reporter brought a bunch of habanero peppers (aka Scotch bonnets, aka the King of Capsaicin, aka Lucifer in a Lump) to work. That's the little bastard there on the left. Being the flaming freak I am, I took a bunch, chopped them up, mixed them with veggies and a spicy Szechuan sauce and made a stir fry fit for Scoville. (Peppers are graded according to heat using something called Scoville units, I'm guessing named after a dude who likes fiery treats as much as I do.)

Veronica's eyes starting watering the next room from the heat. Rye started coughing.

After a few bites, my nose started running uncontrollably. My mouth was so hot it felt cold. It was like swallowing a light bulb. But it was pretty damn good.

Veronica asked me why I would do something like that.

Here's why:
I'm nearing 30, married, have a son, work a full-time up-and-down job, live in the suburbs, am slowly losing my hair, the Huskers freaking blow and I have no recreational outlets other than walking a cement trail around a man-made lake in the middle of McMansions.

In short, you seek whatever thrill you can get even if it's just a taste-bud roller coaster.