Knives Are Gay

Given the nature of the weekend, I debated calling this post “Your Goose Is Cooked” but opted for the above title for reasons outlined below.

‘Gay face’ is a term my team will sometimes use when attempting to describe the way a person looks. Cherub like with lots of natural rouge is a fairly succinct definition. Ladies, am I right?

I have also heard the way people run, self included, described as ‘gay.’ This is closely related to the descriptor ‘mincing’ when referring to the way certain gentlemen walk. AKA doily as in “he went, doily, down the street.”

The way in which one does their hair, selects their outfits (i.e. calling them outfits instead of clothes) and pairs their bag with shoes could also be deemed as leading gay indicators.

One thing I never thought would fall into that category is a serrated knife. This weekend while hunting, we took a break for lunch, and as I didn’t have any cooking duties thought I would make myself useful cleaning the seven geese we bagged in the morning.

After plucking the breastbone, skinning and removing the breast meat, I moved to the legs. Not having as much experience in the area, I asked my cousin what I needed to do next. Taking the blade from my hand, he said “well the first thing you do, is next time you’re buying a knife, tell them you’re not gay and don’t want a serrated blade.”

A gay blade? Well now I’ve heard of everything! A rolling pin? Maybe. An apron? Almost certainly. Crisco? Definitely. But of all kitchen accouterments, a knife would be at the bottom of my gay list.

There was the briefest of awkward pauses, mixed with a ‘but I am gay’ glance, before I was back cutting tendons and pulling off skin.

I’m pretty sure it was a slip of the tongue, speaking of gay, and if anything it inspired me into reestablishing my masculinity all afternoon by extra shooting. Not that I took anything else down.

Out again this Friday and Saturday, so I’ll be sure to scratch myself, spit and fart more than anyone else. I’ll show them who the gay one is!