Friday, May 24, 2002

I hacked myself to shreds shaving this morning.

As I gazed at my razor, a sudden flash of insight streaked like a comet (well, a really small comet) across my mind, lighting the early morning synapses: "I should really change that blade."

Happy with my proactive thinking and level-headedness, I silently congratulated myself, even going so far as to give myself a little wink in the slightly steamy mirror. I toyed with the prospect of giving myself one of those pointing-finger gestures that are usually accompanied by a little mouth clicking sound, but decided against it. I knew this would be a good day if I had performed such a feat of self-preservation first thing in the morning!

So, swelled with pride I went ahead and shaved, forgetting to actually perform the blade-changing task of which I had recently felt so proud.

It all started to go bad at the Adam's Apple*. I don't know why I was shaving my Adam's Apple. It doesn't have any hairs on it. I was just shaving with what we have established was an insufficiently sharp blade, and I happened to catch sight of my Adam's Apple, just quietly Appling away there about mid-neck. I had gotten some shaving cream on it, which may or may not be incidental to why it got shaved, and subsequently cut. Suffice to say the reasons for the Apple shaving are not entirely clear at this time, but that it was indeed shaved, as much as something hairless can be said to have been shaved. So I cut my Adam's Apple.

This is not a pleasant experience, in case any of you would-be daredevils out there might be thinking of getting in on the ground floor of this new self-mutilation craze. It kind of stung, but didn't really hurt all that badly. The worst aspect of the Apple-cutting was that I kept having (and am still having) mental images of those emergency tracheotomies you're always seeing in Vietnam War films. This is making me a little jumpy. You should, incidentally, always carry around a bic pen just in case someone, someday, needs an emergency tracheotomy in your general vicinity**. You'll be prepared.

The cut was pretty spectacular. Nothing along the lines of the elevator lobby scene in The Shining, but enough to make the more squeamish a little uncomfortable. That was when it struck me that I hadn't actually changed the blade on my razor.

All my previous hubris and pride disappeared instantaneously. What sort of fool was I? I thought to myself. Got to change that blade!

So, of course, I continued on shaving with the old blade.

Cuts recorded:
lip: 1
Adam's Apple: 1 (large)
neck: 2
chin: 2

I should also add, tangentially, that under no circumstances should you start thinking about Un Chien Andalou, or even the Pixies song Debaser, while you are shaving your face.

* This is a sentence which not only describes my shaving accident, but also the whole original sin thing. Makes you think, doesn't it?

** I recommend simple blue or black ink. You don't want to get carried away and get one of those four-color jobs. You might do more damage than good with one of those babies.


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