Razor's Edge of Sanity

by Adam Magnusson
03 August 2004

A while back I was living with my girlfriend. She was a cute little Indian girl (dot, not feather) and we were good together for a while there. We have broken up since, but that is the ebb and flow of life. About a year ago now, she was off to Target one afternoon to get herself some things that she needed (she didn’t specify and I have learned that when a woman is going to Target to get herself “things that are needed” it is better not to ask).

Well, before she left, she asked if I needed anything and would I go to the store and get dinner things. I told her that I needed razors and did she want chicken or beef for dinner?

Razors, got it! Chicken. <kiss>

What to do with chicken for dinner was my problem and I quickly forgot the razors. She had been living with me for a year and knew what razors I used. On top of that, I considered her a sane person and she should be able to find me disposable razors with very little worry, even if it wasn’t the usual razor that I used. I mean, really, it’s a disposable razor; is it that hard to get it right or wrong?

Well, I settled on a chicken and vegetable dish, served over pasta. That meant that I needed chicken and vegetables. That meant two stores, one of which is a block from the Target. Well, if someone would get herself a cell phone, I could have saved some gas and driving, but someone didn’t own a cell phone, so I was stuck and off I went.

I don’t remember much of the shopping; I just remember that I got home last. So, there we were, both back at home and dialoging our various journeys and the frustrations and humor therein. As I unpacked the groceries that I had purchased and Bena (the cute Indian girl) put away her “women things” (don’t ask, I won’t tell) she told me that she had something for me. Since all I had asked for was razors I was curious as to what my surprise was and pleased that I had been thought of while she shopped.

My surprise was a new razor. Not razors, not plural and most definitely NOT disposable. Now, I have nothing against “fancy” expensive razors, but disposable did me just fine, thank you. So, into my life came the Gillette Mach 3 Turbo. Well, I realized that my lovely girlfriend might not be sane and it was actually possible to get a disposable razor wrong. I am still baffled by the logic that went into this. If you hear razors and you know what said individual who asked for those razors uses, why buy up and get the more expensive kind?

I’m a guy, for Pete’s sake! If you could find me a stick that would take the hair off of my face and scalp, I would use it. Hell, if used coffee grounds would do the job… You get the idea. I burp, I fart, I watch football, I drink beer, and I laugh at crude jokes. Just get me the stupid disposable and my life will be good. Change is frightening to a guy and this freakin’ razor was a change.

So, I have and I use this razor. I have three blades now. I keep hoping to go to the store and find that the disposables are cheap, but the damned refills for this razor are cheaper, so it looks like I am stuck with it. I swear to the gods, however, that if I ever become filthy rich, I’m going to spend the extra buck and get myself the disposables; out of principle, if nothing else.

The rub of it is I’m only half put off by the razor’s “fanciness” and cost. The other half is the name. Mach 3 Turbo!!! WHAT THE HELL IS SO TURBO ABOUT MY RAZOR? Has anyone ever looked up turbo in the dictionary? I have! Turbo is a prefix. Turbo is like turbocharged or turbojet. In fact, the dictionary goes on to explain that something that is turbo is “driven by a turbine”.

Ok, so do I need a degree in mechanical engineering to run this razor? Do I need to go get certified somewhere? Besides the sharpness of a razor blade, is there some part of this razor that requires that I be careful not to get hurt or sucked into some large engine? Does it require fuel?

See what I mean? I’m a guy and now, instead of being able to shave, I have worries.

On top of that I’ve noticed very little difference in the performance of my razor. If it wasn’t for cost and the fact that I am just starting to make my way in the strangeness of California, I would go back to my old disposables. When you’re counting every penny, those savings add up, but I still worry every time I shave that I might hurt someone or myself. It’s a strange fear, while shaving, to have thoughts of getting sucked into a jet engine.

So, if you want to get me a great gift, go out and find those green twin blade disposable razors and get them to me! Then again, the change back would probably play with my head and that means I would need to rant more about razors.

Oh well!

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