Ok. Ok, you guys. My MacBook is fixed! So that means no barely-relevant picture with some random placeholder text for you today.
Or for the last four days.
My bad. But I’ve been up to things. My dress is in for it’s final alterations and we pick it up on Friday, and they call the last appointment “Bustle Bootcamp” because it’s when they teach the bridesmaids or mothers or whoever how to do up the bustle on the dress. HOW STINKING CUTE IS THAT?
Also, I convinced my mom to buy sparkly jewelry to go with her dress. This is a big deal, just FYI. I did not get her to get a necklace as big as I had hoped I’d be able to, but it’s still quite flashy for her and she got a bracelet, so I’ve been spending some time patting me on the back and playing dumb flash games in reward.
ALSO? Remember a while ago, when I asked you what flavors I should change the cake filling to? I HAVEN’T CALLED YET. I’ll do it as soon as I hang up this post, I swear.
And another thing? We had decided against favors because, eh, meh, you know, but we were out and my mom keeps getting hung up on tiny favor boxes and bags, even though we have nothing to put in them. She stumbles across these particular tiny boxes that said “Hugs & Kisses from the Mr. & Mrs.” and she was just smitten with them. Especially once I told her that people probably filled them with Hershey’s Hugs & Kisses. But we left them, as we had decided no favors. Well, a short few moments later, at another store, she is looking at these sheets of small labels and wonders what they’re for. For the bottoms of Hershey Kisses, I tell her.
Yeah, guess who spent a few hours sticking “Kelly & Phil” stickers to the bottom of 400 Hershey Kisses?
Ok, but none of this is the point. The point is, generic products.
I think we’ve talked about this before – which products we (the general we – not the me and Phil we, but the you and me we) don’t mind buying generic and which products we must always have a specific name brand.
I think it’s a pretty clear cut choice for most people. Like, as far as I’m concerned, a person need only have generic ketchup one time to know that it should never, ever happen again.
And you only really need to look at super generic toilet papers to know that it would only take a few days of use for your delicate areas to be sanded smooth.
What I’m saying is, with certain products, you just know not to buy generic, that nothing good will come of it.
Well, I have this one particular product that I continually buy generic whenever I see a new generic brand pop up. Pink Daisy razors.
Already, the wise and time- and razor-tested among you are shaking your heads at me, but anyway.
Pink Daisy razors. I love them. I have tried everything else out there – Bics, the Venus, the one with soap around the blades, electric razors, depilatories, men’s razors – everything. I am fiercely loyal to the Pink Daisy razor. I’m sure you use a great razor, too, but I’m unswayable on this point. Pink Daisys for me.
The thing is, though, whenever we are at CVS or Walgreens or even the grocery store, and I see a pink colored knock off for a lower price – a shmazor, if you will – I am compelled to try it.
And every time, without fail, I am completely disappointed. Just because it is pink does not make it a pink Daisy razor. Just because it says, “COMPARE TO DAISY RAZORS!” does not mean it will compare favorably. Because it never does. And it is always a spectacular failure.
A pink Daisy razor can hang out in my shower for weeks at a time without issue, always ready to perform. While that is half testament to the quality of the razor and half testament to the frequency with which I actually shave, it’s not like I’m trying to shave any more frequently with a shmazor.
No, just once in a while, just enough shaving to still technically qualify as someone who prefers to shave the standard lady areas of shavery. And not matter what generic shmazor I try, the results are also disheartening and often bloody.
So, when I was packing for this trip, we were picking up a few last things in Target, including some pink Dasiy razors, when what should I see? Up & Up brand (Target’s new-ish generic line) pink razors. I immediately laser in on them and snatch them up, informing Phil, as usual, that they are significantly cheaper than the pink Daisy razors.
“Yeah, but don’t you always regret it when you buy the generic razors?”
“Well… usually, yeah. But I haven’t tried this brand, and I’ve liked a lot of the other Up & Up products, so, you know, they’re probably fine.”
THEY WERE NOT FINE.
SHMAZORS OF THE HIGHEST DEGREE.
I had my first experience during a kind of jetlagged shower, attempting to shave my armpits underarms before a dress fitting. I made a few halfhearted swipes at the general area, not really needing too much of a shave and not really caring so much. Even with that minimal effort, however, I ended up making a mental note to grab another razor for my next attempt, as the first one out of the package seemed a bit shmazory, but I wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt before conceding to Phil’s correctness, the WORST THING EVER to have to do.
So, the next time I was preparing a shower and shave, I grabbed a fresh razor – or at least, what I thought was a razor.
That shmazor quit after one pit.
Solo el armpit-o.
I had to GET OUT OF THE SHOWER, mid-pit, and get ANOTHER SHMAZOR to tackle the second one.
And it’s not like I just gave up on it due to my obviously deeply held shmazor prejudices. No. I SWIPED and I SWIPED and I SWIPED. Nothing. I mean, seriously, nary a hair was being felled. I was doing that thing where you push your eyes all the way to the side to stare into your own armpit until they actually start to glaze over and get those sparkly things floating around in your vision and everything.
Nothing. I had to EXIT THE SHOWER for yet a third shmazor to even myself out. Never have I had a shmazor quit mid-pit on its first day out.
You guys, as with the rest of this blog, let this be a horrible lesson to you.
Do not compromise your armpits with shmazors.