Back in my college town there was a restaurant, Tios, which had a monthly hot sauce tasting. You could try out as many hot sauces as you wanted on saltines, you'd write little reviews, and Tios would order some of the hot sauces that people really liked. They sold hot sauces by the way. Also maybe as long as you were there you'd probably want a pop to deal with the hot sauces and maybe you'd like a burrito too. And hey, now you'd remember Tios as that awesome place with the hot sauce tasting if you wanted to eat out at some point. It was a pretty good gimmick.

So one Saturday after I broke up with a girlfriend, I figured I'd go to Tios. Sampling hot sauces sounded normal and sane, a good comeback to all the stress right? Exceeeeept, I was being REALLY CHEAP so I did not get a burrito, or a pop, or anything to buffer the sheer volume of hot sauce I obsessively wolfed down in part because it was an endorphin rush. About twelve hours later a lot of pure capsicin, stress and nothing to soak it with meant I *really regretted* this decision.

Telling this story to one of the other people in the group though, their response was "I'm imagining you shoveling saltines into your mouth with tears running down your cheeks, 'more hot sauce will soothe the ache in my soul.'"