A pair of testicles and a bottle of hot sauce

A few short months ago, I was sitting in the conference room at work having lunch with my team when the coleslaw incident happened. VGT buys it's employees lunch every day. I don't remember what it was, just that it came with coleslaw. And that it was spicy. I took two mouthfuls and quickly had to guzzle down some water, "damn, spicy coleslaw!", I proclaimed. At which point, David "Ninja" looked up and replied with a nonchalant, "you know you're a man when coleslaw kicks your ass!". The whole conference room burst out laughing. It was funny. He's a funny guy. Ever since that day I've been like Rocky Balboa in training for his fight with Ivan Drago. I'm in spicy training. I've got a pair of testicles and a bottle of hot sauce... and I'm gonna use em!

The perfect opportunity to show off my new found spicy fortitude came at this month's Buffalo Wild Wings lunch. It's a monthly lunch where we all go out for wings. It's customary now to order a shot of Blazing wings, succumb to the peer pressure and pretend that, despite appearances to the contrary, you are not going to assume the fetal position and cry like a little girl. Now let me explain what a blazing wing is. Imagine a chicken possessed by Ra the sun god. So hot that just the smell of the thing can bring a grown man to his knees. That is the blazing wing.

So out comes the blazing wings. Always one to "get it over with", I jump straight in with gusto. There is a silent anticipation as the rest of table looks on in amazement. "Eye of the Tiger" blaring in my head; not only did I eat the wing, but I did it with nary a raised eyebrow nor bead of sweat. I threw the bones aside and prepared to beat my chest with my testosterone pumped fists. Then it hit me. Hard. So hard that the waitress could hardly hear my whispered dying wish to "some more water, please?" Then I started sweating like a pig. My lips felt like they were somebody elses. And my stomach was tumbling so much that I'd have put a Chinese acrobat to shame. In short, I failed, yet again, to gain the respect of my coworkers.

The humiliation doesn't end there. A couple of nights ago I sat down with my training chips "blazin' wings" Pringles when I noticed that most of the box had gone. WTF! I cast an angry glance at Suz. She said, "Wookie!" What? My 3 year old had eaten almost a whole box of Blazin' Pringles. Would the humiliation never end? Not even close, coz Wookie, ever able to outdo his old man just downed three boneless hot wings and asked for more. And my mouth was on fire with two!

So that's it for me. I'm trowing away the hot sauce, getting my pink sweater vest out of storage and admitting defeat. I mean, let's face it, what kind of man gets his ass kicked by coleslaw?