I've been framed.

Recently, an FCN contributor announced to the world that he was not shaving until we went to war with Iran. In an unsatisfying end to this dramatic proclamation, he decided two days later that we were now at war with Iran and is now walking around smooth as a baby. Sometimes, people come up and try to gently break the news that, while our relations with this Middle Eastern country are tense, they have not alltogether collapsed. They have thus far been unsuccessful in conveying the point.

The day before this fellow FCN contributor made the fateful pledge, I lost my razor. Nothing political or gallant about that. I just couldn't find it. I dug through the filth around my bathroom and bed for two hours trying to find it. I got really upset. I questioned the ancestry of the razor. I questioned the ancestry of the filth. I questioned the ancestry of the fellow FCN contributor. It was to no avail. The razor was gone, and I'm not the gogetum type who just goes and buys something new when he just KNOWS he's got something adequate hiding under the rug somewhere. And this isn't just adequate. It's a Gillette Fusion (Mr Winther take note).

But a lost razor does no one any good. I have now grown a very noticeable patch of stubble which itches like an old cast. A popular conversation starter for folks speaking with me is: "So are you the one who isn't shaving until we go to war with Iran?" "No, I'm not. I just lost my razor. You want that babyface over there."

This gets old. It also gets embaressing. You can see the admiration fade from the eyes of the questioner like the attention span of the average senator.

I once vowed not to shave until I played Halo 2. This led to a Samson-esque episode involving a pink razor and certain female members of my then speech and debate club. A year and a half later, I played Halo 2. The point is, the situation gets pricklier and pricklier with every passing moment, literally and metaphorically. It's crucial that I set the record straight. No, I'm not growing it out. Yes, I know how bad it looks. Yes, I'm trying to scare little kids away. No, this is not a political statement. Yes, I stepped on a rake.

And if you must help my kicking and screaming self, please, please bring shaving cream. I'll be in the men's restroom scratching if you need me.