It Slices and Dices

Sister #1 thought she'd be a good sister and buy us all these professional knives for Christmas last year.
We each got one with it's own case and sheath.
This is one bad ass knife. Seriously, it's like one of those knives you'd see on Iron Chef or Benihana's or some shit.
I knew it was bad news when Sister #3 shows up at a family gathering looking like Michael Jackson with all of her fingers bandaged.
"Holy shit! What happened to you?"
"Well, I was using that knife that #1 gave us on Monday and I sliced my index finger open. Then on Tuesday, I used that knife and sliced my thumb open. Then on......"

Well, surely Sister #3 is a moron. She must not be doing it right.

I rarely have cause to prepare or even cut food in my home but for some stupid reason, over the weekend, I purchased a block of smoked gouda and thought I'd use said bad ass knife to slice me a few pieces for a sandwich.
The first time I tried it, I ended up breaking off a hunk of the cheese at the bottom as the pressure from bad ass knife was too much for the block of smoked gouda.

So, today, I decided to try a different tactic. It was early in the morning you see...I wasn't thinking clearly and I'll just leave it at that.
Needless to say, I cut the holy crap out of my thumb.
It's not a slice...it's a deep stab wound that even went through the top of my nail.
As blood gushed from my moronic wound, I started chanting to no one in particular, "Oh that's not good, not good, not good, not good, not good."
I danced around the kitchen trying to figure out what to do.
I grabbed a dish towel and applied pressure to my thumb while different scenarios raced through my head about going to the ER and getting stitches.
I squeezed on my towel-covered thumb for a few minutes, then gathered the courage to remove the towel to survey the damage.
It wasn't even bleeding anymore.

I knew it. Sister #3 is a moron!