October 2, 2017
I don't know if what he's doing to the block of tofu can even be called slicing. I want to call it sawing, but when I think of sawing, I think of methodical, purposeful, rhythmic action. This is anything but. No, he's hacking with a long knife with a dual-pronged tip that looks better suited to gutting a fish. I laugh as if I'm amused and charmed, but really I'm irritated at his lack of finesse, annoyed at his lack of attention to detail, and disgusted when I think, "Ew. This is probably the way he is in bed too."