So I’ve been trying to eat healthy lately. Not really a diet, but more of changing my eating habits thing. Part of this is making sure that I get several servings of fruits and vegetables each day.
I like salad, honestly. But I like it alongside of stuff like red meat, and fried potatoes. By itself, it has to do a lot to impress me. So what I did was, I got all kinds of various ingredients that I can interchange to produce a new salad each day. Today, I decided jalapeños would be good. I got out a pepper, washed it off, and placed the knife against the side.
My eye immediately began itching. I put down the knife and the pepper, washed my hands, and scratched my eye. I picked up the knife, began cutting the pepper, and my eye started itching like crazy.
“I guarantee you that by the end of the night, I’ll have jalapeño juice in my eye,” I said to my princess.
“No you won’t. Just be really careful.”
“I guarantee you.”
Because as we all know, you can wash and wash, but that juice is on there until it decides to come off. I prepared my salad, ate it, and washed off my plate.
In case you’re worried, don’t be—I didn’t get juice in my eye.
I was careful. I rub my eyes a lot, though, so I had to be very mindful. Especially when I went in to take a shower, because I tend to get hair in my eyes when I take my shirt off, and I didn’t want to go through the agony of burning eyes just trying to move a piece of hair out of the way.
I started the shower, and then urinated. And here is where things went wrong. Because I was so mindful of my eyes, I forgot that the real issue was on my hands. And, shortly after urinating, on my private part.
I think we all probably know this, but just in case: One thing you do not want on your penis is jalapeño residue. Hell, jalapeño anything, for that matter. What some of you probably don’t know (hopefully) is that if you ever do end up with something jalapeño-ish on your penis, do not, I repeat, do not run warm water on it in hopes of washing it off.
Even if you’re standing right there by a running shower, even if you think that since it just started burning, there’s still hope. Trust me, there’s no hope. Unless you count the hope that you have some weird acid-on-the-genitalia fetish that was up to this point undiscovered. And you better pray that you didn’t get any on the tip.
Anyway, I’m going to be huddled in a corner crying for the rest of the night, so you kids are on your own.