On today’s bad utensil list: the Standing Cheese Grater.

Oh, to be sure, it grates cheese, carrots, ginger, and more. But it does the same to flesh, cartilage, and — someday — bone. Mine, that is. It’s only a matter of time. This steely-faced predator has had it in for me since the day we met.

What a stupid, sadistic, predatorial design! Made for maximum destruction of human tissue and minimum efficacy at preparing food. And who likes shredded food anyway? It’s gross! As if the flavor has been vacuumed out of it by some Harry-Potter-esque Sucking Creature! What’s the matter with slicing? With a knife! You want small pieces? Slice a lot!

Anyway. Back to the design: it’s constantly falling over. Ever in the way. Cumbersome to store. Impossible to clean. And what’s up with the long horizontal slits on the one side? Am I seriously supposed to shave parmesan with that? Has anyone ever done that? You’ve got to be kidding me. Talk about a space filler. If they didn’t know what to put on the fourth side they should’ve just left it blank. Or better yet, etched in the number of the local emergency room. And a map. Cause you’ll be needing it, if this utensil stays around.

What I hate the most about our particular model? Every time I use a lot of force when grating — which is every time, because, um, grating requires force — half the handle pops off. The loose end — quickly and viciously — stabs me in the hand. Simultaneously my fingers skid wildly down the side. Food scatters everhwhere, dishes go flying, and I commence cursing like a sailor with kidney stones. It’s incredibly vexing.

More vexing still? There are those living in this house — who shall remain nameless — who claim that this come-apart-and-destroy phenomenon “never happens” to them. They look at me like I’m nuts when I say that I am going to throw this cheese grater out of a moving train at the first opportunity. “It works perfectly,” they say, blithely. And it does, for them.

That is the most infuriating part of all.

But I still maintain it’s a moronic design. And dastardly. Nefarious. Bloody minded. Someday it’ll kill me. Unless I get to it first.

I am off to Union Station.