Murrmurr
SF VIP
- Location
- Sacramento, California
I remember a ‘90s ad for Venus boasting that their women’s razors would “bring out the goddess in you.” I felt we were perhaps asking too much of our razors.
Meanwhile, I subscribe to Dollar Shave, or maybe one of their even cheaper competitors, because, whatever, my choice of razor is not part of my identity.
Or at least it wasn’t until today. But more about that in a moment.
I tend to go through razor heads pretty slowly because I generally only use them to clean up around my beard and mustache. This results in me having to occasionally pause my subscription so I have time to work through a pile of surplus that accumulates over a few months or so.
This morning, I went to attach one of these surplus heads to my razor and discovered that, at some point, the company redesigned them and they no longer attach to the razor handle that they gifted me when I became a subscriber!
This is precisely the kind of minor aggravation that I delight in turning into a big deal. A replacement razor handle will probably cost me just a few bucks at most, but I still think it’s a chicken-shyte move, and choose to remain bitter about it for an indefinite period of time.
So now I’ve got, like, two dozen of these subscription razor heads that don’t fit my razor. In Dollar Shave’s defense, this redesign may date back to the mid-2000s - again, I go through these things pretty slowly - however, due to what I assume is their latest “advancement in shaving technology”, today I was forced to use my wife’s Venus razor, reflecting with bemusement that it is pink, and evokes goddesses and effeminacy while I whipped up a pre-shave lather on my bar of soap called Dragon’s Blood, which appears to have been primitively chiseled out of a rather large obsidian rock.
Am I alone in being completely devoid of any need for my toiletries to affirm my gender role?
Anyway, returning to Venus, there’s this strip of some sort of ethereal matter across the face of Meesh’s goddess-razor that either squirts out a shaving gel, or melts and turns into shaving gel as you use it.
In summary, I used a pink razor to shave this morning and it ejaculated on me the whole time.
…and gave me the greatest shave of my life.
I told Michelle that I will order the manly black with a silver streak razor handle from Mars…er, Dollar Shave, but while I’m using up the surplus heads, I need her to stock up on those magical razors from Venus for me.
Meanwhile, I subscribe to Dollar Shave, or maybe one of their even cheaper competitors, because, whatever, my choice of razor is not part of my identity.
Or at least it wasn’t until today. But more about that in a moment.
I tend to go through razor heads pretty slowly because I generally only use them to clean up around my beard and mustache. This results in me having to occasionally pause my subscription so I have time to work through a pile of surplus that accumulates over a few months or so.
This morning, I went to attach one of these surplus heads to my razor and discovered that, at some point, the company redesigned them and they no longer attach to the razor handle that they gifted me when I became a subscriber!
This is precisely the kind of minor aggravation that I delight in turning into a big deal. A replacement razor handle will probably cost me just a few bucks at most, but I still think it’s a chicken-shyte move, and choose to remain bitter about it for an indefinite period of time.
So now I’ve got, like, two dozen of these subscription razor heads that don’t fit my razor. In Dollar Shave’s defense, this redesign may date back to the mid-2000s - again, I go through these things pretty slowly - however, due to what I assume is their latest “advancement in shaving technology”, today I was forced to use my wife’s Venus razor, reflecting with bemusement that it is pink, and evokes goddesses and effeminacy while I whipped up a pre-shave lather on my bar of soap called Dragon’s Blood, which appears to have been primitively chiseled out of a rather large obsidian rock.
Am I alone in being completely devoid of any need for my toiletries to affirm my gender role?
Anyway, returning to Venus, there’s this strip of some sort of ethereal matter across the face of Meesh’s goddess-razor that either squirts out a shaving gel, or melts and turns into shaving gel as you use it.
In summary, I used a pink razor to shave this morning and it ejaculated on me the whole time.
…and gave me the greatest shave of my life.
I told Michelle that I will order the manly black with a silver streak razor handle from Mars…er, Dollar Shave, but while I’m using up the surplus heads, I need her to stock up on those magical razors from Venus for me.
