Tweezers are one of those great examples of silent onomatopaiea. They don’t make any noise, but you can almost hear them say “tweeeze”. Me, “swizzle” gets me every time. I can say “swizzle” and feel drunk.
Tweezer don’t tweeze. What they do is pince. That’s right, pince, not pinch—for the same reason that pincers (e.g., lobster claws) are called just that, pincers, not pinchers.
Pince. Try to work it into your conversation at least once a day.
Why can you find a pair of tweezers, but never a single tweezer?
Liberals.
Is “to tweeze” a verb? I feel like it should be.
Tweezers are one of those great examples of silent onomatopaiea. They don’t make any noise, but you can almost hear them say “tweeeze”. Me, “swizzle” gets me every time. I can say “swizzle” and feel drunk.
I must have special tweezers, because mine actually do say “tweeeeeze” when I use them.
Maybe they’re magic tweezers. Or maybe they were blessed by a Rabbi or a genie or somesuch. Hellooooo, eBay!
Yeah, but in your alternate universe, do your parsnips say “paaaarsniiiiiiip” when you eat them? Just checking.
My tweezers just say, “Tweeeeeze. Tweeze tweeze tweeze tweeze tweeze tweeze! Tweeze tweeze tweeze tweeze tweeze. Tweeze tweeze tweeze tweeze tweeze tweeze…”
Translation: “Damn, what brows this woman has! She always working our ass. We don’t never get no rest…”
Tweezer don’t tweeze. What they do is pince. That’s right, pince, not pinch—for the same reason that pincers (e.g., lobster claws) are called just that, pincers, not pinchers.
Pince. Try to work it into your conversation at least once a day.
Sing a song of six pince…