Fathers Day Draws First Blood: Remington Beard Trimmer

No doubt you have seen a few knock down, drag out, all around hellish Father's Days come and go. We all have.

  Momma wants to shove your nose in a Happy Happy We Love YOU! Celebration fiasco, and the kids are doing everything they can think of to dodge this social embarrassment. 

  Truth is;  An unobstructed view of the game, a bag of pretzels and a fresh beer now & then are about all you need to be perfectly content with your 'Special" day...but Mom won't have any of that nonsense.

 You're gonna dress spiffy and go to her favorite eatery, and you can bet your wingtips it won't be Buffalo Wild Wings. Or any sports bar, for that matter.
Been there, brother. I (we) sympathise.

That however is not the reason for this post. This one is loosely classified as a rant I suppose, based on last year's FD gift, and I thought I would remind some givers on Dad's Day that not every gadget is what it seems.

I am referring to a Remington beard trimmer that works just fine, although it appears to have developed a taste for human blood.
At first it was a small nick here or there, but now that a year has passed it has acquired an evil thirst for more, which I fear may someday spell my downfall.

I have started keeping it in a cage at night so my children can sleep without being attacked by this deceptively tiny device and it's vampirish cravings.

This harmless looking device is the Remington rechargable trimmer, model PG360. 

 That's code for Pretty Good, retail $36.

  T his one came with a nice stand and a few handy attachments, and has been serving my needs well...until I trim around the mouth area. This is of course one of it's primary uses; Trimming the beard and mustache, which it does just fine, until it senses weakness. Then it strikes. It's tiny steel fangs sinking into my flesh, seeking the sweet nectar that flows just below the surface.

Always the same place, always the same little nicks at the corners of my mouth. Irritating little nicks that sting like a papercut, and take a bit too long to heal because I open them every day when I yawn.
Naturally, it's not lack of sleep making me yawn of course, but the little known but much feared Creeping Curse of the Stubble Clipper. Having tasted my precious juices, it has no doubt injected me with it's fiendishly hypnotic gadget serum, born in the pits of Remingtonia, or wherever these nasty little biters come from.

Seriously though: Is it just me?

In any case, this is a heads up to the Dads, Moms, and kids who will be last-minute scrambling for a nice, fairly cheap (about $25) gift this coming FD weekend: Remington beard trimmers may become hostile and develop a taste for human blood.
Caveat Emptor

> JB.