::facepalm:: Cigar-cutting edition

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We watched in horror as the young man tucked the cigar deep into the cutter and...

Let me back up. You should experience the event with the same shock and awe we did.

There we were, Valentino and I, sitting at the bar drinking ginger ale and water* and chatting with pals. Two very young guys came into the cigar lounge and bought a few cigars. (They weren't picky in their selections.) They asked to purchase a cutter too, although when told the cheapest would run them about $30, they changed their minds.

Valentino suggested they take them out of the cello, cut them, and put them back. He offered up his awesome** cutter. The poor young man looked at it, perplexed. And who can blame him? It looks like this:

What the what? Where does the cigar go? [source]

Valentino very nicely reached over and made it into a dilophosaurus when it opens its frill***:

No, it doesn't magically turn wood into carbon fiber.
This is for demonstration purposes only! [source]

And he handed it back to the young man, who proceeded to do this:

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We held our collective breath and hoped, hoped, hoped he didn't actually squeeze and make the cut here.  The poor guy must have heard our very audible gasps, because he pulled back a bit. It wasn't perfect, but he would up cutting a little closer to this:

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I hate being corrected in public**** so there's no way I can ever say the stuff in my head, which usually begins with, "Oh, honey, no..."

Thankfully, these two guys got out with the majority of their cigars intact, so yay!

You're welcome! [source]

In the meantime, I'm trying to figure out a way to correct folks without seeming to be correcting them or coming off like Sassy McBossypants, so if you have any suggestions...


*Cheap date. We're still really good tippers though!

**Awesome because I bought it. And had it monogrammed, because I am awesome x 2. And that was years and years ago!

***Gah!!!


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****Although how often can it actually happen, since I am practically perfect in every way. Stop laughing. Oh, right, that was Mary Poppins, not me.

Obvs, not me.