The Boston Diaries

The ongoing saga of a programmer who doesn't live in Boston, nor does he even like Boston, but yet named his weblog/journal “The Boston Diaries.”

Go figure.

Monday, Debtember 15, 2003

Cheap horror flick

I surprised myself by not screaming like a little girl, although I did say “oh fudge” when it happened.

The onion. The knife. I put the blade to the onion, ready to slice it in half. The onion just sat there unconcerned about the eviceration I was about to start. That alone should have warned me, but no, I plunged ahead anyway. Knife. Meet onion skin. Only the knife didn't penetrate the onion skin. That's why the onion was so blasé about the situation—it knew! No knife of mine was good enough to penetrate its skin. Oh no! Good enough to penetrate my skin, but not the onion's.

No severed fingers though. That's good. But a bit too deep to grab a band-aid. I had to wake up Spring to have her get some band-aids as I was too busy keeping presure up on my right ring finger.

Three bandages later (two on my ring finger, a smaller one on my middle finger which also got knicked) and I noticed that I needed to change shirts. Figures that I'm wearing a white shirt. Well, at that point, a white shirt with small red dots covering the right side.

One shirt later, and I'm back in the kitchen. The onion was sitting on the counter, no doubt giggling to itself at the inept human who attempted onioncide. I look up at the cabinets, now adorned in little red polka-dots. I look up further, to the little red polka-dots adorning the ceiling.

Good lord, I thought. It looks like a scene from a cheap horror flick. My second thought was, How the fudge did I get blood all the way up there? That was a mystery to be solved later. First things first.


Muahahahahahaha! Take that, onion!

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