or; fusion razor, you suck.
My face hurts.
No, really, it does. I've got five little cuts, all lined up like the soldiers in front of freaking Buckingham Palace, gracing the running edge of my chin.
What was the culprit? My razor.
Now, I haven't cut myself with a razor since I was sixteen. I'm a good shaver, and my face can take a lot of pain. I don't take my time shaving, nor am I a very cautious shaver. But I do know the cardinal rule of shaving if you don't want to cut the crap out of yourself - you don't go side to side. Ever. I repeat, EVER. And consequently, I haven't cut myself in quite a while.
The last time I cut myself, I was using a single-blade disposable POS. And it cut good. And deep. I've still got a small scar on my jawline from it. And it hurt. Like a bugger.
But it's been a long time. And, of course, shaving blades have "evolved" since then. I remember with fondness my first Mach 3. 3 whole blades! Miracle!
Then there was the Quattro, and now it's the Fusion, or whatever the crap they call it.
Well, it doesn't seem to matter how many blades you have, you can still cut the ever-loving-crap out of yourself.
Case in point - this morning, as I was shaving, I was being careful. Well, more careful than when I'm clean shaven, because I've got the goat to go around. As I was carefully trimming right next to the left side of the beard, my little sister came in, and began rummaging around under my sink. What for? I'm still not sure. But she bumped me out of the way. In the ensuing bump, I cut my face.
And it hurts. Bad.
Stupid razor. Stupid sister. Stupid face.