Jami Doesn't Dig the Pain

The Husband and I are watching Man vs. Food, a show we watch on occasion when a food he's attempting looks particularly gigantic or bizarre. The one we have on here involves hot wings so hot that only 3 people in the world have managed to eat 12. The Scoville rating of these wings is estimated around 1,000,000, though I have to believe that is a gimmick, but it does have a habanero extract sauce, plus is dredged in hot sauce before being breaded. It's hot, is what I'm saying. SPOILER ALERT: he makes it. Then there is a commercial for the next episode where he plans to eat a chili 9x hotter than a habanero pepper. And here's the thing: I don't get it. I like spicy foods. I craved spicy when I was pregnant. Spicy - yes. But burning my tongue until I cry? Um, no. I don't get eating food that causes you pain. I like food. I eat food for fun, not to hurt. It's the same reason I hate weepy-drama chick flicks - I want to be amused, not depressed. Real life is depressing, show me something funny. Plenty of things in life hurt, my food shouldn't be one of them. I don't get tattoos or piercings, I don't run marathons, and I don't slam dance in mosh pits; hurts = no fun. I want my food to be yummers and fun to eat, not melt my face off and in a few hours come shooting out my butt leaving a flaming vapor trail. That's all.