Clicky Makes Biggie

Check out our spiffy Save the Date cards!

The Fez Monkey 'o' Grooviness^® is courtesy of David Lanham. Actually, the whole card is courtesy of Dave.

This is gonna be a hell of a wedding…

So Corrie and I nearly became one of those heat-related casualties at the Grand Canyon this weekend.

Some stupid-ass MSNBC article about shaving got me thinking. The article is rather dumb, but straight razor shaving rules, and there's a pretty simple reason why:

Hot shower. Strop up the expensive Dovo straight. Cheap mug, cheap soap, cheap boar brush. Lather that shit up (hot lather feels wonderful). Barely touching the skin, draw the blade over the whiskers, and feel, rather than hear, the blade singing and the whiskers popping cleanly off. Feel the dead skin cells that microscopically poke above the level of the live ones prying away as the blade passes over.

I used to get massive amounts of shaving bumps and shaving rash from my shitsock Mach3. I switched to a straight razor a few years ago and have had zero problems ever since. But the main reason that I love it is that shaving with a sharp straight razor and a shaving brush feels fucking glorious!

And I like the fact that I'm in control of the whole thing - I'm not at the mercy of the planned obsolescence of a disposable blade. If I'm not happy with the sharpness, I hone it or strop it until I am. And if I need a different angle, I just move my hand, I don't have a blade locked into one angle.

I even enjoy the "zen" of the whole procedure - stropping, frothing, honing. It's a nice past time in the classical male sense - maintaining your mechanicals.

But I guess I do have one dirty secret - that stupid article inspired me to buy a new beaver brush.

By the way, this is my second-ever post about completely random crap.

Had a fun night last night, but hurting today. Owww.

Fuck.