On a hot wing and a prayer

This is just ridiculous, I think! I’ve seen TV shows on restaurants serving the hottest chicken wings around. I mean, I love a good Buffalo wing dinner, don’t get me wrong. I even love it spicy. But seeing these guys chomp the meat to the bone as their faces turn bloody red is just unfathomable. Why? I’ve heard of finding pleasure in pain. But, writhing in torment while supposedly enjoying your dinner just doesn’t seem to rhyme in my book. Is it the flavor, or the sensation? Unless you’re numb, I guess. But then, there goes the flavor, as well. I can only imagine losing focus on the flavor when you’re profusely sweltering and engulfed in flaming agony. And, if that’s what you call sensation, then I rest my case.

hot stuffNews came out this morning about a restaurant in Chicago serving chicken wings so hot, patrons must sign waivers before they can be served. Your order even comes with an alarm bell. Like in a hospital room!

Do you agree not to sue us as we shove hot coals down your throat, and as you get hospitalized for it? Sign here, please.

Once again, a testimony to the fact that we can’t always have our answers when we want them.


But I can always make my own wings, right? Yum!

How about now? 🙂