...and that's when I burned my face off.

Because of my lack of grocery shopping, we had no BBQ sauce, which made it difficult for me to make the BBQ chicken that was already in the works for dinner. I had just watched a Rachel Ray where she said something about mustard, Worschester sauce, and chili powder. I figured I would just make my own and save money like a good wife. So I mixed in what I thought sounded good, but when I got into the spice cupboard (which is so NOT my domain- Scott is the master of that cupboard... and it smells like India, which is confusing), I couldn't find the chili powder. I did, however, find Cayenne Pepper powder.

They looked the same. They smelled the same. And I'm pretty sure people put Cayenne Pepper in chili...

1/8 of a cup of Cayenne Pepper later, I had the WORST BBQ sauce you have ever tasted.

That's a lie.

I never tasted it.

Because my entire mouth went on fire, and I instantly had a sore throat, clogged ears, and a runny nose.

Thanks for the head cold, BBQ sauce.

The weird thing is, Scott actually liked it. He loves spicy food.

He loves the taste of PAIN and TORTURE.

I've been grumpy the rest of the night, and still feel like I'm coming down with something.

Cayenne Pepper DOES NOT = Chili Powder.

Humph.

(And thanks to Charlie for the greatest happy mail ever. Holy crap! I almost feel guilty for the package I sent out...)