What I cannot do if my life depended on it

So it turns out I decided it was finally time I shaved my own beard. Now, being quite the theorist, I knew what the process entailed and what I needed for successful completion of said process. Off I went to the local supermarket to get the necessary implements.

The parameters of the experiment were these: Could I, given that this is fairly mundane activity for most men, and that I had put some thought into this, give myself a shave without doing lasting damage?

There comes a time in a man’s life when he has to accept that he isn’t meant to do some things… Halfway through the preposterously tedious exercise, I noticed that the razor had a certain spring-loaded button. I shall say nothing here of what I did, or the time I spent trying to get the damn blade back onto the razor. It shall suffice to say that half an hour into the effort, I’d cut myself twice, wasted quite a bit of shaving gel, and probably ruined the razor (and was really quite late to catch the frikkin’ bus).

So there. I am hopeless at this. Now, in the spirit of engineering, or something, here’s all the above in graphical form.

The first Venn diagram here is something I discovered when I found people in the Aerospace dept. staring at me in the DCF. It turns out I had a habit of singing out loud when I had earphones on. (No, I no longer do.)

The second Venn diagram comes from my general history of social awkwardness bordering on misanthropy, and My Experiments with Truth a Razor.


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