<human>: This actually happened a about a year ago, but its always a good laugh. I've been trying to climb the restaurant ladder for about a year at that time the traditional way (start as a dishwasher and learn hands-on). I had already learned a lot, and also being a bit of a narcissist prick, I loved to show off my new-found culinary chops to my layman friends. 

So we had planned a barbecue one night and I had been drinking a fair amount. Eager to assert my perceived mastery of the kitchen, I offered (i.e. demanded) to be allowed to prepare the whole spread. My friends agreed. And so, I self-styled master chef, set to work. I began with the mashed potatoes first; dicing each spud into easy to boil cubes. This procedure had the additional benefit of showing off what I thought were my ninja-like knife skills. I began to carry on a conversation with one of my buddies (who was in another room) and began to focus less on the razor-sharp hunk of steel I was irresponsibly wielding. Until I felt a sharp pain shoot up from my left thumb. Apparently while talking, I continued dicing and had added the tip of the digit to the potatoes for that extra kick. The cutting board was covered in an astounding amount of Jack Daniels ridden blood, and there on the board was the piece of the thumb, complete with a tiny clipping of the nail. SHIT. I mopped the blood up the best I could and slipped into the bathroom to patch myself up. I left the thumb-tip on the cutting board. 

By the time I staunched the bleeding, I found that someone had finished cooking for me. The alienated piece of flesh was no where to be found. Later on, however, somebody did encounter the nail clipping in the potatoes...

Condense the text into a few key points
<bot>: I drunkenly attempted to make mashed potatoes and succeeded only in amputating the tip of my thumb; which was later mixed into the finished product.