better get yourself together, darlin'

So my husband has a birthday this week.

What's that? Oh, yes, I'll tell him a bunch of my anonymous Internet friends wish him well on his special day. Thanks!

Anyway, he's a tough nut to buy for. Always has been, probably always will be. So I've been racking my brain for gift ideas when it hits me. As I may have mentioned once or twice (or maybe three times), I'm a fan of the grooming. LOVE IT. While I've not gone so much for the full on "hey, let's remember we're grown ups, shall we?" kind of grooming, I do believe in the theory that "where hair grows, so goes some trimmers."

With that in mind, it was as if the Internet was a part of me last week when this popped up after I logged on one day. Problem - freakin' - solved, my friends! I was sold immediately, but the clip about how the Phillips Body Groom "saved the beach" pushed me entirely over the edge, where I expect to land in a soft pile of downy hair that falls upon my bathroom floor after this arrives.

Except that's gross.

(And will surely test the powers of the Dyson)

Firm on the belief that nothing says, "Happy Birthday, Hairy, I love you!" like a personal trimmer (especially in light of some of the gifts I've gotten over the years), I'm ordering this today and fully intend to be going "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" crazy with it very, very soon.

Thank you, Internet, for always being there to solve my problems.