Thursday, March 24, 2011
When I let my hair go for a bit, I usually cut it close with clippers, then shave. This makes for a good shave. Well, I dusted off the ol' clippers for my maiden Fresno shave and it turned into a scalping. Maybe those Indians didn't care for being impersonated and the spirit world is intervening. Or maybe, when I went to click on the clippers, I heard not the characteristic clatter of the blades moving back and forth, but a dull, stupid, and unenthusiastic hum.
Hmm. Tried the little lever a few times. Maybe let them work into it? Same uninspired noise. Looked for some oil by basically turning a full circle and not even looking down, knowing that the miracle of gravity being defied would pale in comparison to oil actually existing. Nope. No oil floating in the air at eye height. Plan D was spitting in the blades. It's worked before. But not on clippers. I fired the clippers and reached for the new razor.
How bad could it be right? Pretty bad. Hop in the shower and apply a generous amount of shaving cream to the dome piece. Go for the first swipe up the back of the head. Didn't quite get that stupendous "hair is being cut" sensation, really. Hmm. Took a look at the razor, and it was chock full of hair. Took a feel on the back of my head and maybe a half inch of scalp was, or upper neck was revealed.
So, after a good twenty minutes of shaving, and a mere quarter of my head being shaved, and the shower running low on hot water, I heard Al Pacino from "Any Given Sunday" telling me about fighting for that inch. "We scratch! And claw for that inch!" And so it was. The clock was running down and I looked like that clown that works with Peter Griffin, Opie.
After what had to be a half hour incursion behind enemy lines, I was out of razor. The nice little green strip? Gone. Bag it. The razor was out of steam too, looking rusted and stuffed full of hair. How did it get rusted in half an hour? It was new. It would have made a hell of a commercial for Norelco, cause it wasn't saying much for Gillette. Long story short, just like when I found myself in a car going to a rehearsal for a band I never saw in a land far away, and just like when the deadline for the paper was a few hours away, once that first swipe was made, I was past the point of no return. Gotta do it to it. And miraculously, it worked out. But I didn't have any razor left for my face, so I'm Isaac Hayes for Halloween again, only it's not Halloween, or even close, and I'm white. "If you see me walking down the street, and I start to cry, each time we meet...Walk on by-e-y..."