Dicing onions...
... with a newly sharpened kitchen knife. Had even tested it on a piece of paper to prove just how sharp the the thing was...!

I didn't cry when I was peeling the onions.
I didn't cry when I was chopping the onions.
I wasn't crying when wiping the onions off the knife face by drawing the blade between thumb and forefinger.
And still I only winced a little when for some inexplicable reason I twisted the knife and cut deep to the bone on my forefinger.
My eyes didn't even tear up when I saw the blood pissing from the deep wound.

But I cried like a blouse-wearing lady-boy when the onion juice seeped into the cut, burning like being anally raped by an inside-out giant habanero chili.

And you would too. You know it.
(Sir Jester, Thu 27 Dec 2007, 2:11, 2 replies)

*click*
for the anal raping chili image
(JasperSinister is offering two tickets to the gun show, Fri 28 Dec 2007, 13:23, closed)

Simillar happened to me yesterday
only with garlic juice. It was bad. You don't know! You weren't there, man!
(Seance Trumpet has got no beef with a man enjoying a croissant, Mon 31 Dec 2007, 17:25, closed)