Sean Gibson
My inability to effectively use scissors, which dates back to my kindergarten days some 33 years ago. Is it simply a case of utter lack of coordination (and the fact that the blunt safety scissors that they inexplicably give to left-handed kids couldn't cut through heated butter), or is there something more sinister involved, a long-term plot to embarrass me by rendering anything I cut wavy and jagged, exposing me as incompetent and, worse, possibly a serial killer?
Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men, especially left-handed men who are still mad at their kindergarten teachers for calling them out on their poor scissor-using abilities on a report card even though the scissors they gave him couldn't have cut through soggy tissue paper that was already pre-ripped 90% of the way through?
Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men, especially left-handed men who are still mad at their kindergarten teachers for calling them out on their poor scissor-using abilities on a report card even though the scissors they gave him couldn't have cut through soggy tissue paper that was already pre-ripped 90% of the way through?
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