11.10.12
Death Rain
I just opened up a bag of Blair’s Death Rain Habanero Potato Chips. Ouch…this is serious fire. And from me being something of a chilihead/chilipal (choose whatever term floats your boat), that’s saying something.
Funny. When I bought the chips at a little hot sauce specialty store a week ago, I thought I had been overcharged. Huh! A teensy-weensy (1.5oz/43g) bag of chips for $1.95 plus tax. So when I got home and cut open the bag, I haughtily chose the biggest chip among the lot, and arrogantly tossed it into my mouth. What’s this..just a silly old potato chip! And then the explosion of fire erupts on your tongue. Got you.
So anyway, it’s late for me—midnight—and the kids are in bed, and as usual I got my second wind, whereas two hours ago when I was reading Milo a bedtime story, I had just about fallen asleep. That’s the way it works. I spent about an hour cleaning the kitchen. (Damn! I can’t keep away from these chips! Self-inflicted torture.)
Anyway, I find myself thinking of a lot of things. We had a corporate party last night. It was a great event. Once a year, the company splurges on an annual dinner. They give out prizes and pay for the food and drink—“Did somebody say Free Wine’?” It was a time for everyone to let loose, given that we work in an atmosphere that is, as confessed by a colleague, oftentimes “repressive.” There were several incidents that inspired a feeling of hilarity. But you know what they say: “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”
