Gonna be real with you lads. I am awake at 4am ON THE TOILET experiencing REGRETTI SPAGHETTI and HERE'S WHY
Richard is going through a soup phase. He has not stopped talking about soup and buying soup cups and going to our local ramen place for soup. He is really vibing the soup and I love that for him.
Yesterday, I woke up with a sore throat and assumed I'd die this weekend (I haven't thankfully! At least not in that way) and pilfered his soup collection, so we needed MORE SOUP.
So, he's out with his bestie all day Friday and when I text him after work like "we'll need more soup cup I stole yours" he goes "okay! 🤠! bestie and I will go to GROCERY STORE about it!" And they do and he brings back, y'know, those dry packed ramen bundles you boil and season and stir and put into your bowl and enjoy! Yummy! Instead of our usual bowl packed ones you can use the kettle to make.
The reason FOR this particular change was bc his bestie recommended it, because quote unquote "you guys own bowls". Richard, enjoyer of soup and trying new foods, goes "GREAT POINT BESTIE! 🤠" and grabs the suggested pack. He grabs the RED ONE bc the other option is BLACK and has TIMES 5 OR 10 SPICY PEPPER SYMBOLS and the RED ONE has a TIMES 2 and he's like, "that must be a decent kick! 🤠"
Lads. Lasses. Non-ladnary friends.
A Decent Kick does not even BEGIN to describe the heat.
I ventured to make one of these new soup packs around 4pm when I was like "damn, I have awoken from a nap and should have some sustenance", given that I woke up this morning NOT dying of sore throat disease and friends, and I'd like to KEEP it that way.
So, I go downstairs after Richard's left for errands, and I set about making myself a soup pack. I open the pack and read the instructions and do as it says and make the noodles, and when I grab the sauce packet and open it, I go "hmm....this seems like a LOT of SAUCE"
I shrug. Whatever, I think. I like me some heat!! And it'll clear my sinuses!
I prep it and sit down and start slurping those noods slonky style and on my second slurp, I think WOW. My mouth is HOT. Third slurp I'm like WOAH. MY LIPS TOO.
By the fourth sip, I can feel my lips BURNING and have a pile of no less than 3 serviettes and tissues just FULL of snot and sauce, and I'm thinking, what the fuck. This is so hot. What the fuck.
I continue to try and EAT the noodles bc Richard isn't home so I can't get him to finish them and also, I should really EAT and surely they're not THAT hot, right??
By the seventh slurp. I cannot slurp without tearing up because the heat on the heat ALREADY ON MY LIPS is making me feel the way the volcanic ruins in DREDGE look. Holy fuck.
I stop myself then bc my braincell FINALLY RECOVERS FROM THE HEAT. I text Richard THE NOODS ARE HOT and MY MOUTH IS ON FIRE and I cover the noodles bc Richard is GOOD at HOT so SURELY he'll be able to finish them for me, bc at this point I'm straight up thinking that my heat tolerance sucks actually and I'm being a lil' bitch about it!
I help myself to a slice of cold, refreshing, boston cream pie. And a second one. And I wash my face with cold water. And I retreat to my cave to lose myself in the videos game and hope to GOD my face recovers.
Richard gets home. He has brought our USUAL soup cups with him too, thank GOD. This is where he informs me of the heat ratings and I blanche at the idea of how HOT the dark pack must be then, good LORD. I tell him he can finish mine if he wants bc I sure as shit won't!!!! He grabs the bowl and a set of chopsticks and starts eating them and by slurp two he is red as a tomato and his eyes are watering (his slurps are WAY BIGGER than mine bc he is MUCH BETTER at using chopsticks than I) and he says, as reasonable and matter of factly as can be, "WHEW. I am gonna be shiddin flames tonight!" And I go "WHAT?!?!" and he goes "fiery POOPS Dani" and I go "IT'S HOT FOR YOU TOO??" And he goes "INCREDIBLY" and I look at him and see how red he is and how his eyes are watering and I say "do you want some milk" and he goes "YES PLEASE AND PULL OUT THAT CAKE. I'M GONNA NEED IT!"
So I do just that as he FINISHES THE BOWL LOOKING LIKE HE HAS JUST FOUGHT OFF SATAN HIMSELF and we resolve to either cut the sauce in half OR water it down with milk or cream or smth for the remaining four packs, and maybe top it with an egg or two to cut the damn heat and I go OKAY YOU HAVE FUN WITH THAT.
The evening passes. We finish laundry, change the sheets, retreat to the office to play our viddy games in the same room, eat snacks, watch cartoons, shower, then go to bed, y'know. Domestic bliss, etc etc and I, of course, pass out while waiting for my hair to dry, what else is new.
I wake up three hours later. It's nearly 2am. I wrest myself out from the cat's grip and take off my sweater and go to brush out my wet hair and see if it's wet wet or if I should be good without blow drying, and when I stand out of bed on my two feet???
LADY ABOVE.
My stomach is mad. It is SO mad. I take tums and sit for a mo, yknow, wind down, drink water, save the videos game I left on, shut the laptop down slowly as the stomach presumably gets its shit together, add banter to the latest piece of writing, and then. The grumbles start. Woah nelly!!!!!!
More water does not help. The dryer beeps. I realize it must be SO late now. My stomach makes a noise it should not be making and I shut down the laptop and CAVE AND RUN TO THE WASHROOM AND DEAR LORD. THE NOODS ARE MAMING THEMSELVES KNOWN AND THEY ARE DISPLEASED. I AM EXPERIENCING REGRETTI SPAGHETTI. HOLY SHIT.
