ow, ow, ow
You know what hurts more than you think it would?
Imagine plucking a rosebud, and driving one of those small and needle-sharp thorns that hides just beneath the sepals into the soft and fleshy pad of your thumb, and another just beneath your nail. There is no blood, and at first there is no pain. Now imagine that you have been rinsing these roses in alcohol (you know: to get the thrips off?), and savor the sting for a little while.
Almost better than coffee when it comes to the mid-afternoon wakeup call.