Monday, March 9, 2009, 04:12 PM - LifeBeards.
Posted by Buddy of DoQ
Posted by Buddy of DoQ
Beards are a symbol of haggard manliness, and both men and women admire them equally. Without a beard, a man can never achieve anything more than just being some guy, or worse, an upstanding citizen. Yikes! Some men grow beards at rates that rival the ebb and flow of passing seconds; (see my father) others like myself require many weeks to acquire proper coverage. As awesome as beards are, sometimes they just need to go, to make way for a better, stronger… a beard that you swear will be keep neat this next go at it (or when it’s time to visit grandmother).
That’s where razors come in. Razors are very sharp slabs of steel that us men scrape across our faces. Of course, this is neither safe nor sane (fashion and taste, not withstanding), and is therefore a perfect pastime for us men! Sometimes, we slice our faces open a tad, but that’s okay! A cut or scrape across the face is good practice for the inevitable slaps or punches we receive as part of the natural course of conversation with women or the police. Plus, they can leave scars, and everyone knows chicks dig scars! Sometimes though, you just want a clean smooth, and hassle free shave; especially if you’re one of those poor saps that has a suit and tie job.
For years, I’ve just used the pseudo-standard Mach 3. They sent it to me on my 18th birthday, a marketing ploy designed to engage my newfound legal manliness. They figured if I used their fancy and awesomely named razor that I would be apt to buy replacement blades for all time. They were pretty much correct in this scheme since it worked! At least until I was able to grow an even beard, discovered the electric beard trimmer, and could maintain a constant haggard for months at time. Sadly, I left this trimmer behind during my last move, and as each week went by, my beard grew more and more unwieldy. Soon, as alluring as it was, and as irresistible as it made me, the beard began to interfere. It had to go, one way or the another.
But alas, where is my Mach 3? I had gone haggard for so long, that I no longer kept up with it. It had slipped away, most likely in a duffle or back pack stuffed in a box… somewhere… Digging in the bathroom yielded a hot-pink item of curiosity. I knew that women needed to shave from time to time, but paid it no mind since they generally keep themselves in a timeless state of lovely that one forgets the hours the take to primp and prune themselves. But here was this tool for shaving, stashed and hidden away on my girlfriend’s side, that I had never seen the likes of. It had 3 blades much like my Mach 3, but the head was wider, and swiveled. It had “comfort” strips to keep the skin smooth and protected from blood-letting nicks. It may have been hot pink and named after a Roman goddess, but it was the only option I had!
And you know something? It was the best, closest, and smoothest shave I have ever had.
Behold, my new razor of choice: