One night after a couple beers at my brothers house I got real brave and said watch me handle this sauce I made the day before which had 20 habs/6 superhots and 2 tsp of bhut pepper. So I proceed to down 6 tablespoons one after another within 30 seconds. After about 2 minutes I'm salivating like crazy, nose running profusely and my mouth and stomach in pain. My brother thinks its hilarious and chases me around with the video camera on his phone and I'm avoiding it like the plague. Well I made it to the bathroom where I proceeded to worship the PORCELAIN god puking my guts out. I will never pull a macho stunt like that ever again.
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Wow, that was a mistake (what mistakes have you made?)
- Thread starter Koreansoul
- Start date
I made some sauce from reapers and I because I like to cook, I obviously have to taste it before I mix it with things. So I take a bite of the pepper. Yeah, I should have just taken a LITTLE bit but nooooo I think I'll be fine and a bad ass.Pain, and a half gallon of milk later, more pain. I'm cool, I know what it tastes like now.
Six years ago my sister got married. For budgetary reasons, the rehearsal dinner was done as a "bring a dish" and I decided to make a few different varieties of homemade salsa.
At the time, I wasn't growing hot peppers so I had purchased jalapeños, serranos, orange habaneros and the other makings at the local farmers market.
I do all my chopping and cutting by hand, and up until then had never really done much with truly hot peppers.
So, I cut all of these with no gloves.
At the time I was preparing things there wasn't actually any problem. I noted the slippery feeling of the oils from the habs on my fingers but it didn't burn at all.
That night, as the time for the rehearsal dinner drew near my hands starts to swell and turn red. I made note of the fact that I no longer had any cuticles on my fingernails. Washing my hands in even mildly warm water was sheer agony.
Going to the bathroom was worse.
It took 3 days for the effects to fully dissipate. During that time, I had a pair of latex gloves that I would *put on* to go to the bathroom so as to prevent re-occurrence of "chili willy". This whole experience also sparked my research into capsaicin and ultimately became the seed for my pepper growing hobby.
At the time, I wasn't growing hot peppers so I had purchased jalapeños, serranos, orange habaneros and the other makings at the local farmers market.
I do all my chopping and cutting by hand, and up until then had never really done much with truly hot peppers.
So, I cut all of these with no gloves.
At the time I was preparing things there wasn't actually any problem. I noted the slippery feeling of the oils from the habs on my fingers but it didn't burn at all.
That night, as the time for the rehearsal dinner drew near my hands starts to swell and turn red. I made note of the fact that I no longer had any cuticles on my fingernails. Washing my hands in even mildly warm water was sheer agony.
Going to the bathroom was worse.
It took 3 days for the effects to fully dissipate. During that time, I had a pair of latex gloves that I would *put on* to go to the bathroom so as to prevent re-occurrence of "chili willy". This whole experience also sparked my research into capsaicin and ultimately became the seed for my pepper growing hobby.
JutsFL said:I don't know if it's been used before, but it's the first time I've her the phrase 'chili willy' in this respect! Awesome! We've all been there, and hated it. The term is now coined in my book.
...although - I'll never see this childhood character the same again :/
Meet Chilly Willy, The Capsaicin Safety Awareness Penguin!
I once took a big bite out of a juicy Rocoto pepper, and Bam I got a big squirt under my glasses and right into my eye and on my eyelid.
It felt like I had poured gasoline in my eye and lit a match to it, the only thing I could think of was to flush out my eye, which I did for 15 minutes after which my eye swelled shut and still hurt and burned like mad, ended up putting an ice pack against my eye for a good hour, after that I cut or bite into peppers very carefully.
It felt like I had poured gasoline in my eye and lit a match to it, the only thing I could think of was to flush out my eye, which I did for 15 minutes after which my eye swelled shut and still hurt and burned like mad, ended up putting an ice pack against my eye for a good hour, after that I cut or bite into peppers very carefully.
I think I've been on Reddit once in my life lol
Koreansoul said:I do use gloves. I think these SOBs are cheap because it seems to leach through the glove. I even washed my hands well afterwords and I still harmed myself lol. Ya know...these are the gloves they used to change a tube that went straight into my heart when I was going through chemo... I feel like I could have died at any moment now.
With or without gloves, something that helps is after washing your hands (before you work with the peppers) rub a little vegetable oil into your hands so your skin is saturated, won't absorb as much pepper oil. When you are done with the peppers, wash your hands with degreaser (I use Lestoil brand) in cold water so your skin pores don't open.
Um, yeah one night the misses and I were having some Happy Time and she says "Were you playing with peppers today"JutsFL said:I don't know if it's been used before, but it's the first time I've her the phrase 'chili willy' in this respect! Awesome! We've all been there, and hated it. The term is now coined in my book.
...although - I'll never see this childhood character the same again :/
Me being the lying male that I am says "not at all"
Lets just say she wouldn't be calling it the chili willy for sure. She gave me the cold shoulder for a few weeks!
can't believe how boring i am........... going to wait for the wife to head off to bed and come back and re-read some of the posts!!!!!!!!!!! are you tried yet honey???? think you should go to bed, morning comes early.............oh, i'm just going to play some cards..............in bed yet????????????
cone9
eXtreme
I just got back Wednesday from a week in Myrtle Beach. I had taken some peppers from home along with me. Saturday I ate a Tepin x Lemon Drop while everyone was getting ready to go out to dinner. It's not a particularly hot pepper but plenty for me. And although not normally a problem this time I'd eaten it on an empty stomach.
So off we go to Mr Fish and after 45 min wait we're seated and have our meal. Toward the end of said meal I'm feeling a bit of a building irritation in the nether region of my colon but declined the use of the restaurant's reading room and headed back to the hotel instead. Seven minutes in to the twelve minute ride I know I made a mistake. By minute ten my left leg is stiff, my gluts are taught and my butt's raised an inch off the driver's seat. The last forty yards to the hotel were agony. I turned into our beloved Long Bay, but knowing I'd never make the drive up the parking garage and the elevator ride to the room, I pulled in to the registration office parking instead. Somehow I managed to get out of the car while still keeping my cheeks securely embracing each other. I did a rapid Stiff-Legged-Tippy-Toe-Tango through the lobby as my wife directed me toward the closet of blessed relief in Martins, the adjoining restaurant. It was an unnervingly long hallway to a thankfully unoccupied ten foot square bathroom. A magnificently beautiful commode was positioned in the far corner from the door - about forty feet away. I assumed the proper position only a fraction of an instant before all burning hell broke loose. All burning hell took a while during which I heard a wife and kids I know oh so well raucously laughing in the hall in a manner which even eclipsed the unfettered enjoyment they'd reaped during the car ride from Mr Fish. Then I heard a voice unbeknownst to me calling; "Somebody get some Lysol". Moments later came an inebriated rap on the door accompanied by the same voice; " What are you doing in there? Hurry up". By this time I was relieved(in more ways than one) that somehow through it all I had had the presence of mind to lock the bathroom door. Sitting on a commode in the far corner from the door of a ten foot square unpleasantly odored bathroom graces one with an odd feeling of exposure. I took my time washing my hands.
My family has an innate talent to see great humor in another's discomfort. I'll be hearing this story for a long time.
So off we go to Mr Fish and after 45 min wait we're seated and have our meal. Toward the end of said meal I'm feeling a bit of a building irritation in the nether region of my colon but declined the use of the restaurant's reading room and headed back to the hotel instead. Seven minutes in to the twelve minute ride I know I made a mistake. By minute ten my left leg is stiff, my gluts are taught and my butt's raised an inch off the driver's seat. The last forty yards to the hotel were agony. I turned into our beloved Long Bay, but knowing I'd never make the drive up the parking garage and the elevator ride to the room, I pulled in to the registration office parking instead. Somehow I managed to get out of the car while still keeping my cheeks securely embracing each other. I did a rapid Stiff-Legged-Tippy-Toe-Tango through the lobby as my wife directed me toward the closet of blessed relief in Martins, the adjoining restaurant. It was an unnervingly long hallway to a thankfully unoccupied ten foot square bathroom. A magnificently beautiful commode was positioned in the far corner from the door - about forty feet away. I assumed the proper position only a fraction of an instant before all burning hell broke loose. All burning hell took a while during which I heard a wife and kids I know oh so well raucously laughing in the hall in a manner which even eclipsed the unfettered enjoyment they'd reaped during the car ride from Mr Fish. Then I heard a voice unbeknownst to me calling; "Somebody get some Lysol". Moments later came an inebriated rap on the door accompanied by the same voice; " What are you doing in there? Hurry up". By this time I was relieved(in more ways than one) that somehow through it all I had had the presence of mind to lock the bathroom door. Sitting on a commode in the far corner from the door of a ten foot square unpleasantly odored bathroom graces one with an odd feeling of exposure. I took my time washing my hands.
My family has an innate talent to see great humor in another's discomfort. I'll be hearing this story for a long time.
