When I was living in New York, one of my biggest complaints were the people. Sure, there were some good ones around, but it seemed like the majority were complete assholes. If they didn’t ignore you, they went out of their way to be a straight prick. New Yorkers…right? It’s the opposite here in the south. Some days, like today, you get to meet a really odd stranger while picking out some produce.
Random Guy: Okay, I have to ask. Why are you buying so many jalapenos? What are you making that’s so spicy?
Me: Just jalapeno poppers for the Super Bowl. Nothing crazy.
RG: Oh. Are you sharing them with other people? If not, you are going to be shitting fire for a week straight.
Me: *holds up bag of 35 jalapenos* Yeah. Definitely sharing all of these. No ass-fire for me.
RG: I did it once. On a dare. I ate 10 whole ones. I felt like there was a zombie baby stuck in my colon and eating me from the inside. I was pretty sure my intestines were going to blow up and I was going to die. What a weird way to die, right? That would be a weird obituary. Death by ass-plosion. But at the same time, I’d love to make my parents have to deal with that added embarrassment when I’m gone.
Me: … you’re pretty fucking weird.
RG: Yeah, I’m sorry. That was pretty inappropriate to say to a stranger.
Me: No… I’m trying to ask you to be my friend. I love weird. Anyone who has the balls to say ‘ass-plosion’ to a stranger is okay by me.
Ah… gotta love the south.
GO PANTHERS. WOO!