Last night I was in the kitchen working hard at trying not to listen to the stream of “F-words” coming from behind the bathroom door until finally I had no choice but to find out what all the commotion was about.
The words “what’s going on?” no sooner left my mouth when Greg burst open the bathroom door with his face full of shaving cream, and answered, “This piece of shit razor is cutting my face to shit!”
(Clearly Greg’s vocabulary goes down the toilet when he’s frustrated.)
“Here,” I said as I reached in the vanity drawer for a brand new lady razor. “Try this.” And I walked away before he could list off the million reasons why shaving his face with something I use to shave my legs couldn’t possibly work.
“So? How’d it go?” I asked him when he came out of the bathroom about 20 minutes later.
“It worked perfectly. But how come? It’s PINK!”
The scary part? He was serious!