I bet I still hold the world record for flinging a sharpened knife blade across the grinding room from a 3400 rpm buffing machine at speeds in excess of over 200 mph? Or how about that record Rodney King beating I got from my wife when the both of you told me to just go ahead and wash my buffing wheels in the washing machine, never alluding to the fact that I should rinse it out afterwards so that it wouldn't turn the next load of whites completely chrome green? (I still have the scars) Or how about the time both of you told me to hold the torch up close to the tiny pieces that I was soldering without mentioning when my eyes are that close that I could catch my eyebrows on fire? Or the time you both forgot to mention to always pin punch your part up when using anything smaller than a #55 drill bit so the head doesn't "walk" and drill a hole completely through your finger tip, bone and all? Know what its like to unwrap your own finger bone from a #55 bit? Anyhoo..... the therapist says its not your guy's fault and that the emotional abuse dates back to my early childhood. So, I kinda turned out okay. Wish I lived closer to the both of you, I'd never let either of you rest outside of the knife shops.
