After much smoking, we decided to make Mexican food for dinner. Since I was the only one who had ever been to Mexico and had in fact lived there, I was elected to cook. I threw some onions and peppers in with some hamburger meat, made fresh salsa and guacamole and heated some tortillas on the stove one by one, like my Mexican friends had taught me. We had a jar of jalapeños, of which only four of the ten of us were even brave enough to try, and I was the only one who could actually chew one of the dime-sized wheels up without crying. Just to prove my worth, I fished out two of the bigger wheels with a little juice and a lot of seeds, and popped them in my mouth without blinking an eye. My friends went nuts. You’d have thought I tried to slit my own throat, and their swearing fits became extra colorful as they exclaimed over my guts. Although a direct translation holds little light to the actual meaning, it is nevertheless hilarious to share some of the spicy remarks that make up the Andalucian language hurtled at me as their mouths burned at the thought of the sacrilege I had just committed on my own tongue.
“Fuck, aunt, you’re crazy.”
“I shit on the milk, uncle, this gringa’s gonna kill herself.”
“It’s going to hurt like the Host tomorrow, uncle.”
“To take it in the ass, that’s why she did it!”
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