rum and razor
It is difficult to believe that what is essentially an everyday routine task can turn into such an obsession. Having reached a high degree of expertise returning to a DE after almost 20 years of double and triple blade abuse, I found myself eying the disposable blade single for the whole of last week.
After a particularly enjoyable evening spent seeing Tom Watson reeling back the years at Turnberry at the Open and about three Old Monk Rum with Coke, my Superman hormone started kicking in. For those who aren't in the know, Old Monk, especially the Gold and the 12 year old are the best rums that money can buy and don't cost too much either.
I pulled out the silvertip, loaded a blade and whipped up the best lather I ever had. After lathering my face, I even took a minute to admire my handiwork and thought to myself that it would be a great shave. The cheeks went well and the right side of the throat also went well. There was an incident at the left side of the throat that might have rendered me kosher or halal, take your pick.
The upper lip was in serious danger of being AngelinaJolised. I managed to finish the shave with not too many more problems, except a minor one under the bottom lip. The best part was that there were no weepers around the corners of my mouth. I scoured around for what my daughter calls "magic gel" an aloe vera gel, which saved me from looking like an extra from Pirates of the Caribbean. Oh and the Old Spice. Mercifully I was ready to pass out by then, which I did post haste.
To add to my misery, I found that I couldn't use my DE this morning, so had to make do with the M3 (with an old blade) and just about managed a semblance of a shave.
So in addition to not drinking and driving, a combination of rum and razor can also be potentially life threatening. The razor is now safely nestled in some dark corner of my wardrobe.
Open the old cigar-box -- let me consider anew --
Old friends, and who is Maggie that I should abandon you?
A million surplus Maggies are willing to bear the yoke;
And a woman is only a woman, but a good Cigar is a Smoke.
Light me another Cuba -- I hold to my first-sworn vows.
If Maggie will have no rival, I'll have no Maggie for Spouse!