It usually starts something like it did tonight. I was making Spaghetti and my brain decided to throw my hands under the bus. As always. The conversation basically went like this.
Brain: Hey, a little bit is sticking out of the pot. Go ahead, use your fingers and just push them under the water real fast.
Hand: Whoa, wait, what was that? That water is boiling. That's boiling water, don't stick your fingers in there.
Brain: Come on, just do it. It'll be quick. Be a man for once in your life and just shove the fucking spaghetti in there
Hand: Dude, the forks are right behind you. The drawer is almost hitting your ass. You don't even have to move your feet, just twist your waist and grab a god damned fork.
Brain: Oh sure, just grab a fork. It sounds so easy. Of course, then you have to wash the fork. Who wants to wash a fork. You know what that turns you into? Some sort of fork washer. Then you're not just a pussy you're a fork-washing pussy. No one likes a fork-washing pussy, you'll never get laid again. This will be the end of everything for you.
Hand: What? Ok, fine, whatever. Look, you might never get laid again anyway, that's why you need me in good health, we know it's not your brain you're going to be relying on then.
Me: Hey!
Anyway, it dissolved into vulgar lies by my hand after that so I won't force any of you to see that. Either way, it's nice to feel like a man. A man with a pair of throbbing, burned fingers.
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