I Hope That You Can See Right Through My Walls
A Little history…
Once upon a time, when I was a young freshman, two of my friends and I were making sandwiches in the ASL suite of L/L. We had an avocado that we were faced with the challenge of opening, until Henry whipped out his buck knife. This was brilliant. So, for Christmas I asked my parents for a pocket knife… with the sole intention of opening avocados with it. Unfortunately, Santa brought me a miniature L.L.Bean Swiss army knife that can’t do much of anything other than look pretty on my key chain. (And by pretty I mean ghey). When I got back to Burlington after that winter break, my first stop was OGE. It’s times like these when one realizes the implications of being a girl; without even interacting with anyone, I felt like I there was some sort of man-bubble around the knife counter and I would need to give a testosterone sample to get close enough to look. So I manned up. I asked the guy behind the counter for a lightweight and inexpensive knife that I could use to, say, cut avocados. Luckily the one he pulled out of the case was perfect because I immediately sliced my finger open. (Fucking girls thinking they know anything about tools, right?) Well, I was able to hide my thumb inside of my hat I was carrying, thank the kind gentleman who helped this stupid chick pick out an avocado blade, and check out before anyone noticed the cut. Phew. All is well that ends well… save the hat.
