remember back when i talked about practical jokes and how i'm not particularly fond of them? well, i feel as though one has been pulled on me tonight. whether or not it was done for the reason of being a full-blown "practical joke," it sucked just the same.

alexis & eric are visiting this weekend. eric & i are sitting on my porch and he says, "do you have any cinnamon?" i should have known from the start that this was a dangerous question because of who was asking it. but i was also quite curious, so i inquired as to why he was wondering. "i'll give you five dollars if you swallow a whole tablespoon of cinnamon," he said.

i laughed out loud, thinking of glen. glen & eric would have these ridiculous bets -- eric would say, "i'll give you $__ if you eat a whole _____ of _____." and glen would either do it, balls to the wall, or shake his head and humbly back away from the challenge, pride intact. i thought perhaps eric was missing glen and wanted a temporary substitute.

and then i thought about it. cinnamon? it can't be that hard, right? i mean, it's just cinnamon. plus, it's $5, and i'm a broke college kid who is attempting to keep her smoking habit, despite the outrageous hike in cigarette prices. so i accepted the challenge.

we headed into the kitchen and retrieved the cinnamon. as eric was appropriately setting up the challenge, he mentioned that glen had attempted to do this and was unable to perform. i suddenly had second thoughts, especially because alexis looked so skeptical. but then i thought about the money again and decided i'd give it a go. i'm hardcore, right?

i brought the spoon to my lips, breathed in the beautiful smell of the heap of cinnamon before me, and formulated what i felt to be the best plan of attack -- dump it all down my throat. at the last second, i thought again about glen not being able to do it. and he eats a lot of crap for money. it'll be fine, i thought, and poured it into my mouth.

immediately i felt my throat constrict. the coarse powder was sucking all of the moisture from my mouth, throat, lungs, and everything connected to them. i couldn't breathe. i couldn't speak. i couldn't even whimper. but what did i decide to do? i decided to press on with the challenge and attempted to force the rest of the evil powder down my quivering throat. i began to cry. my lungs felt like they were wrapped in rubber bands.

i broke down and coughed. hard. powder flew from my mouth and formed a cloud over the dishes in my sink. a hole formed in the thick mass the powder had formed in the back of my throat and i was able to weakly take in a breath, which, of course, caused more coughing.

i looked vengefully towards eric, who stood there with his hand over his mouth, trying his damndest not to laugh at my misery. alexis shook her head at me. i fumbled for a glass. i needed water. this was a poor choice, i thought to myself.

i recovered nearly an hour later, after seven glasses of water poured down my ravaged throat.

and i have learned my lesson -- never take a fucking bet with eric simonson again.