Monday, April 16, 2007

The Fires of Hell Will Consume You

He trusted me with a knife at that very instant.

the husband:
um. Can't you cut that for me? *almost grabbing the lunch I just prepared for him before jerking his hand back as if a venomous non-revivable death cobra was about to strike*
me: I'm sorry, what? You can't pick up a knife and cut your own . . . What? *laughing*
the husband: well, no. It's like a surgeon. It's precision. . . I just can't do it. *peering with pitiful, forlorn and the most dejected glance ever produced in the history of mankind*
me: holy crap. *shaking my head while cutting his sandwich in half*


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Upon seeing the immediate construction of this blog.

the husband: you have no shame.
me: huh? me? what do you mean?

3 comments:

Ian said...

Triangular or square? Crusts on? Crusts off? I mean, there are some pretty complex sandwich cuts.

luqufqgt: I'm pretty sure Google's word verification system is in angry Scottish drunk mode today...this one is a crude variation of "Observe, you f(half)kwit"

Jen said...

It was round, okay, more oval shaped sourdough bread. Oval! Oval, I tell ya - and small, b/c the husband says he's overweight for bike racing. . . .*sigh*

I still had to cut it in 1/2. Crust on - don'tchyano all the vitamins are in the crust. *sheesh*

I concure. Word Verification is very drunk today. Though yours was pretty hilarious!

Alli said...

Ahhhh...husbands....they so love us to cut their sandwiches...

silly men.