I won't devote the ENTIRE post to one of my favorite things in the world. I will try to cover all of the bases. You know, indigestion, gas.....and poop. Holy poop slinging monkeys. I don't think the baby enjoys my consumption of Tabasco. In case you have not had the pleasure in hearing me discuss my love for Tabasco, here is a summary: I love it. I would marry it (sorry Paul). I put it on a large variety of foods from eggs to toast, to chili, to apples. Okay, maybe not the last one, but you get the point. I am convinced that it is one of the best inventions of our time. You can find at least 2 bottles of this magical sauce in my pantry at any given time. I always stock up to make sure I will never be left without it. Had enough yet?
Well, as one might suspect, if you consume too much of the groovy sauce you can imagine the fire in the hole you may experience approximately 12-15 hours later. This is usually the case, and I spend those terrifying 10 minutes on the porcelain God promising I will never do it again, only to go to Chipotle and use an entire bottle on my burrito at lunch.
Last night was a totally different experience. My stomach hurt about 1 hour after I ate it. I was so confused. What was this burning sensation in my upper abdomen? That never happens. And the gas. OH the gas. I actually woke myself up from a dead sleep. Then the pooping this morning. OH the pooping. I think the toilet water actually boiled! This hurts me so bad to type this but, I don't think the baby enjoys Tabasco. WHYYYYYYY? Must I retire poor Tabascky to the back of the fridge for the next 5 months? I am so distraught. The rainy weather outside of my window describes, in perfect detail, the deep, dark feeling I am experiencing today. My friends, it is a truly sad day.
In other news, if you seeing Colleen this weekend, be sure to wish her a very happy birthday! And send her some popcorn tins.