Thursday, October 25, 2007

Do You Have A Razor I Could Borrow?

I was getting ready for work this afternoon and realized that I needed to knock the stubble off my chin. I hunted around, but I couldn't seem to find my razor. I looked in all of the obvious places (e.g. both bathrooms, my shaving kit, etc.) and even in some of less obvious places (kitchen cupboards, under the bed, in Flannery's sheet music, my army boots). I have two kids and there really is no telling where some things might turn up. While I'm hunting for my missing razor, I got to thinking about a time when I lost my razor before.

It was ten years ago today. I was dressed in my tuxedo. The tie was tied to perfection, as I opted for the clip on after two weeks of trying to learn how to tie the other one that I bought. The vest was a little snug, but all in all a decent fit, and the coat hid the fact that I was getting a bit of a beer belly. I had the sash of my family plaid that went over my shoulder and was held in place by a family heirloom clasp of a Highlander playing the bagpipes that was fastened at my waist. My hair was very, very long and I had pulled it back into a ponytail while it was still wet and let it dry into one long ringlet. I was looking as good as ol' Doc was ever going to. I was at the pinnacle of my prime. I gazed into the mirror and admired myself with satisfaction, until I noticed the red stubble across my chin.

I hunted for my razor. I had thought to bring everything else. Cologne, the "good" hairbrush, corkscrew/bottle opener, train tickets, my pocketknife, even the "Weekender Shack Pack" of condoms, but no razor. I panicked, and then I shreiked. Egad! Oh all the things I could forget, this one essential tool was overlooked.

My father-in-law-to-be came rushing in to see if I had impaled myself with a hair pick to get out of marrying his lovely daughter. I blurted of some nonsense along the lines of "I can't....shit....dick...razor!", or something to that effect. He quickly sized up the situation and left the room and returned with his. He mumbled "Hurry up", straightened his tie in the mirror, and left me to my work.

I will always be grateful. For a man with a spare blade for a friend in need, is truly a friend indeed.

If you want to know how we celebrated our ten year anniversary, ask Flannery. She tells it better than I can.

Doc

10 comments:

  1. And that is why I have worn my beard all these years!

    But I have been known to construct similar well formed sentences like you spoke to your father-in-law-to-be.

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  2. Happy anniversary!

    And a good story told well.

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  3. Happy anniversary Doc!

    Glad the shave worked out for you.

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  4. Happy Anniversary to both of you, Doc. After all that time, you're entitled to a little less razor anxiety.

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  5. Happy Anniversary and it's good to know someone else has, at one time, not been able to shit dick!

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  6. I'll be honest Chris, I totally swiped that line from you. I don't really remember what it was I blurted out, and your line just seemed to fit so well.

    Thank you all for your congrats. "What a long strange trip it's been"

    Doc

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  7. As long as Flannery's not coming after you with a razor, you're good. I hope you lose it every ten years forever.

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  8. I stopped shaving when I was so far down in the dumps a fortnight ago. I'd like to see what would happen if I went a whole YEAR without shaving, but I don't think that's about to hapen.

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  9. I can't shit dick razor either, thankfully. Sounds painful.

    Happy Anniversary!

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