Why cain't I quit you?
I didn't mean that Baby, come back!
My family likes the burn, myself most of all. When I was diagnosed with gastric reflux I thought I would never enjoy another meal. Luckily it was just my gallbladder, so I'm back eating Louisiana Red and Sriracha, and of course good old Tabasco.
My father used to love spicy foods before boutique hot-sauces and trendy posters and Scoville ratings were cool. Someone gave him a jar of pickled Yugoslavian hot peppers for Xmas as a joke, and as soon as we got home he broke the seal and popped one in his mouth.
A sudden scream from across the house brought us running back to the kitchen. We found him prone, mouth open, eyes wide and streaming. Red faced, straining to survive.
Anyone else would have called an ambulance, but we knew he was enjoying himself immensely.
I hear you say you dread this weekend. It's the same thing all over again, every year for longer than you can remember. I get it, I really do. As much as I could, anyway.
All in one basket.
I want to say I have faith in you without having to pay tithe or get uncircumcised.
But it seems to me you have to face it as a crap-shoot, or it becomes a meaningless charade. So logically there has to be worst-er-case scenario where it's all for nothing.
That, I do believe about everything.