Who knew Jesus smelled like bad fajitas?
If you come to my house, you will be told two serious and solemn things: do not use the knife that looks like bread, and under
no circumstances use the wooden cutting board that pulls out of the wall. This last part is more of a lecture, and I'll probably sit you down for it and then quiz you afterwards. Randy cuts (raw) poultry on a built-in (wooden) cutting board and then slides it stickily back into the wall. Until he needs to slice some cheese or some prosciutto, and then he pulls it back out. I try to be on hand to slap some plastic down between the board and the food, but Randy's pretty quick when it comes to doing shit he knows drives me crazy. And I can only haul that thing outside and scrub it with a wire brush in the driveway so often (never). When the monster germs come to kill us all, I plan to yank the whole thing out and strap it to my chest, a crucifix against the monster germ vampire. People will think I'm Jesus.
