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Thursday, August 8, 2013

The Story of How I am Being Targeted by a Kitchen Utensil (PHOTOS)

I don't know if it's possible for an inanimate object to have a personal vendetta against a human, but my serrated vegetable peeler is trying to kill me.  First, meet my vegetable peelers.  I have 3.  Their names are Green (flat peeler), Orange (julienne peeler) and Red (serrated peeler and evil piece of shit.) ...

My kitchen gadget drawer
Three Pack of Peelers
This little 3 pack was purchased recently for the purpose of making veggies into spaghetti and other "noodles" for my new starch-free lifestyle.  I've used Green and Orange on many occasions with positive and enjoyable results.  Red sat in the drawer;  I assume plotting my slow and painful death should I ever choose him for a project.  Well yesterday was that fateful day.  I was preparing my lunch for the next day at work.  I was making a chicken salad with lettuce, carrot, tomato and cucumber.  I decided to shave my carrot to make it easier to eat in the salad (I can NOT be the only person who finds it difficult to get carrots on my fork...especially a plastic fork.)  So I pulled Red out of the drawer.  Not Green.  I have no idea why I chose Red, but in hindsight, it is exactly this kind of haphazard decision making that will shorten my life in the long run.  Similar to choosing shoes that hurt my feet just because I felt like wearing them that day, or taking the highway...  But back to topic.  Red came out of the drawer ready for battle.  He started out just happily doing his job...letting me get comfortable with him and his production.  Then, as soon as I was finding myself pleased with the results of a job well done by Red *BAM* the fucker jumps up and removes a chunk out of my left pointer finger...on the side of my knuckle.  At first it hurt, but there was no blood, but as quickly as I smashed Red down on the counter a river of cherry red blood began to stream.  I followed my training from being a basketball trainer for a year:  Apply pressure and raise it above my heart so the blood flows slower to the injury.
Taken literally 2 minutes
after putting on the
super tight band aid
This picture was taken
almost 10 minutes after
the cut happened
So I spent 15 minutes with my arm above my head...and bled through band-aids until I wrapped it with gauze, tight tape (over the band-aid) and went to bed.  This morning, when I removed my band-aid, it began bleeding again.  I didn't think I cut myself very deep...but Red, that sonuvabitch, is determined that I bleed out and die.  Don't even act like I am not going to end Red's career in my house... tonight that fucker gets thrown away in the garbage...

...then the trash is going to the dumpster, because I'll be damned if I leave that evil piece of shit in my house to come alive at night, crawl into my room and peel me in my sleep...


1 comment:

  1. Sharp death gadgets are not welcome in my kitchen. Those that live there are Brian's to deal with.


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