I am freshly showered and shaven. I am in the... sixth week, I think, of using the first razor blade out of the package of five. I know that for those of you who use the Gillette Pro Glide Force 10 from Navarone Mach 3 BvS cartridges, that you can do things to prolong their usage, as I do with these razor blades. People can get several months from one of those cartridges, which makes buying them in bulk from a place like Costco that much more reasonable. I get that. I did it for years. But I am getting some of the best shaves of my life with this safety razor and that cheap ass razor blade, now that I am getting the hang of using them. And the cost per shave, now that I have the safety razor and can factor in its one-time cost, is still going to be lower for me than it is for you. At least, I tell myself that. Give it a chance, guys. Worst thing that can happen is that you go back to the Gillette Pro etc cartridges.
Ah, my face feels so smooth. Tell you what, guys. Walk up to me
tomorrow at work and... feel my face. You have 10 seconds to have your
way with me. Even 12 hours from now, it will still be baby-bottom
smooth, and you will be so impressed you will switch over to safety
razors and thank me, and then let me feel your face.
We watched this week's Lucifer last night. Enjoyed it immensely. I know it's based on a comic. A friend at work unloaded his Lucifer trade paperbacks on me last week. Trying to downsize his life by upsizing mine. Thank you, Adam. He tells me that the comic is far different from the series, as the iZombie comic is much different from the tv show, and as the porno version of Iron Man is somewhat different from the movies starring Robert Downey, Jr. I look forward to reading the Lucifer books, once I make my way through the Jas. R. Petrin stories in those back issues of Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine. That is the sole pleasure reading I do these days.
Another long day tomorrow. Have to hang around after work while Patricia does her Pilates class. Whenever I go there to pick her up, all these 50+ year old women come on to me, and make me feel like a piece of meat. At least they're age appropriate, I tell myself.
See you tomorrow, assuming I survive their entreaties.