Today I'm addressing something that really chaps my ass, and quite literally the faces of me and likely millions of you reading this right now.  Or billions, I don't know.  Yes, I am talking about shaving, that horrific chore that is necessary (for those post-pubescent of us without sweet beards) at least a few times a week.  

Everything about it pisses me off.  Let me further explain through a detailed analysis of our options for facial follicle removal.  

1) Electric shaver.  You can buy them cheaply or spend a ton of money like an asshat on one that cleans itself and scratches your ass for you, it doesn't matter, they all suck at their job.  The rotating, laser-cut, diamond-tipped, solar-powered, cutting edge technology blades don't just scare the shit out of me, I'd have to use the damn thing every two hours just to stay as smooth as fine sand paper.  Then, even though I spend some more money on some green water called "Lectric Shave" that smells like my Dad to put on before shaving, my face still feels like I filed it angrily with an emery board when I'm done.  After a few months of power-hacking myself apart, I get to go buy expensive new blades to keep the thing from going from almost worthless to completely worthless.  No thanks Norelco, I'll scratch my own ass and figure something else out for my face.

2) Laser hair removal.  Yeah, probably not anyone's natural second option, but I didn't say these were in any particular order.  Besides, in this era of technology and the lines of what's super gay for dudes becoming ever blurrier, how tempting is it to solve this problem entirely by never having to shave again?  Here's a quick story.  A few years ago my mom was working for a small clinic, at which they performed various hi-tech skin treatments.  One of which was "phototricholysis", or removal of hair by laser.  They were training a new girl at this procedure, and needed some trial patients (see:  ignorant guinea pig morons) to come in and let her practice.  In the words of an annoying punnist, I put my neck on the line, volunteering to have my neck hairs lasered off—permanently removing the agonizing chore of shaving this sensitive area.  I recall lying down on a table, and seeing the aspiring aesthetician (doctor who makes ugly people less ugly) and her fairly attractive, my-aged daughter walk in.  To my immediate dismay, I came to find the older lady was the trainer, and the young girl was the one would be shooting a laser at my face.  Somewhat nervous, the first thing she asked was "should it be turned up this high?"  Not comforting.  Then, with her first shot on my neck, she exclaimed "OOPS!"  Let me tell you, about the only thing I'd hate hearing worse than that is "he's flat lining" or maybe any audio clip from The View.  The trainer explained, "it's ok, it's supposed to turn red like that".  No it's not ok, and I wished I had never agreed to this.  The next thirty minutes can be best described as someone poking me under the jaw bone and neck with a thumb tack, profuse sweating, and trying to act tough for Oops McNewbie (whom I came to hate).  Aside from an intense fear of scary movies involving evil children and driving large trucks, I am not that big of a sissy, but this hurt like all unholy hell—far worse than my tattoo, worse than my infamous ninth-degree sunburn, and certainly worse than the "mild irritation" I was promised.  During this medieval torture session, I took solace only in knowing the touch of a razor would nary again be felt after this laser burned all of my hair off—until the nurse said "six or seven more treatments and you won't have to shave anymore!"  F*** you, f*** scary movies with little kids, and f*** laser hair removal.  

3) Waxing.  No.  Sure, your girlfriend may wax your unibrow now and then and you'll lie about it, which is fine.  But beyond that, no.

Which leaves but one option that I am aware of, the one I have defaulted to with many of the rest of you….

4) Razors.  On a principle level, there's something seemingly barbaric about maneuvering around our faces and vital arteries with anywhere from 1 to 6 sharp-enough-to-cut-atoms-in-half pieces of steel on a handle.  It's no wonder why when we do manage to cut ourselves with one, the wound bleeds longer than it takes to start appreciating warm red wine.  There's nothing better than being in a hurry and hastily opening up your upper lip, causing you to either be late or show up with a piece of bloody toilet paper stuck to your accident.  Further, if you're a bit of a "sensi" skin like me, bladed shaving unleashes havoc on your face and neck.  Razor burns and bumps run rampant, and aftershave feels like rubbing on liquefied fire.  I've tried everything—foams, gels, soap, conditioner, pre-shave crap, post-shave crap, meditation, focus groups—anything I could to make it better.   All to no avail.  (I'm not getting paid yet to say this, but the best thing I've found is a little tube of yellow oil called Shave Secret sold at Wal-Mart…shave only in the shower with hot water).  If that weren't enough, everything associated with razor-shaving is expensive as hell.  Sure, we don't have to buy Gillette, but it's the best a man can get because everything else sucks complete ass.  A razor handle is like ten bucks, and if you want it to vibrate it's more.  That's manageable, but I'd like to see the profit margins on those damn blades.  I bought four the other day for like 12 bucks, nothing short of criminal.  I'm not a mathematician or anything, but I'm pretty sure that's somewhere around THREE DOLLARS A PIECE—for a tiny combination of metal and cheap plastic that lasts about 5 shaves before becoming a dull, mangling hair puller.  At $3/razor and a new razor every ten days or so, assuming I have a 40 year career of regular shaving I'll spend about $4400 on blades—this assuming no inflation and that the laser girl doesn't at any point find me and finish killing me.  And we complain about gas prices.  You're welcome Gillette, you bastards should offer scholarships to people like me.  

So, unless there's something new out there, that about sums up our options—leaving us all to painstakingly work towards finding our chosen lesser evil.  And while there's no escaping the fact that it sucks for us men to shave, hey, at least we're not chicks.