MAC, once mighty. Not so anymore...
I never thought of myself as someone with horrible knife skills. I swear I wasn't sloppy with my precious knife. On the contrary, I babied the thing to keep it with me forever and perhaps one day, bequeath it to a grandchild (or grand-nice/grand-nephew) worthy of its awesome thin-bladed power.
I'll be lucky if it lasts me through the season. Sympathetic friends regale me with stories of how some of their MAC knives have puttered out long before they're supposed to, chipped or cracked by some innocuous action. They're good people, my friends. But the fact remains, my knife was one of the best in the world. At the top of its game like an "Iron" Mike Tyson. And like the heavyweight champion, it's now utterly, irrevocably wrecked.
My obituary will read something like this:
"Vanessa Chang ... [generic things about life, relations, family] ... She will be most remembered for her unique ability to kill mint. And she killed her MAC knife."