Those of you that know me know that I hate mustard with all of my soul and all of my being. Seriously, I think mustard was brought forth from the gates of hell itself. It is the spawn of satan and represents all that is evil and bad with the world....
Plus, it tastes and smells horrible.
Well, my lovely wife thought it necessary to make me face my worst enemy the other day. We were at BW3's enjoying some very tasty mini-corndogs. I had some nice spicy BBQ dipping sauce and Jen had some spicy mustard dipping sauce. Everyone was happy and the corndogs were finished off nice and quickly.
Being the testosterone-infused man that I am, I pointed to the spicy BBQ sauce and asked her what she'd give me if I drank the rest of it. She gave me the "jackass" look and told me that I was an idiot. You know, the usual. But then she noticed the mustard and the wheels started turning. A deal was to be made and Mark was to face his enemy.
The deal was this: drink the mustard sauce, taking as much time as I need. Rule 1: No vomiting. Rule 2: No drinking anything for 1 minute after the last of the sauce disappears. The Reward: A road bicycle (which I've been wanting for about 2 years).
Here's how it went down:
I worked up the courage and tipped back the small plastic cup. I thought I was okay until I tried to swallow. At this point the mustard swooshed around my mouth and throat. I then proceeded to vomit into my mouth and nose. I had to plug all major orifices to make sure Rule #1 was not violated. I then swallowed all of this down and claimed victory. Yes!!!!
Jen then informed me that there was, in fact, more mustard left in the cup. That's when I realized she hates me. What loving wife would make her husband face his enemy twice in one sitting? Mine, that's who.
Anyway, I saddled up again and took down the rest. Gagging all the way, but I took it down.
Then the minute of Rule #2 started up. This is when the burning started. I couldn't tell if it was the mustard of the vomit, but something in my throat and nose was trying to burn off through to the surface. Seriously, it was bad. Even when the minute was up and I got to take a drink it didn't stop. It took a good hour for everything to calm down.
The Result: I get a new bike. I hate mustard even more. Jen thinks I'm a wus.
So I'll be buying a new bike pretty soon. More on that when it happens.