Being TiVo users in our household, we don't usually watch commercials. But when we do, they usually crack us up or make us go off on some snarky diatribe about the utter lameness of consumer culture. Among our favorite genres of commercials to make fun of are the ones that involve people getting really excited about some mundane product, like toilet-bowl cleaner or toothpaste. So imagine our surprise that we are flipping over the total awesomeness of a freaking razor.

Yes, a razor.

Let me explain: Some weeks ago, a box arrived in our mail slot bearing a photo rendering of a razor that was clearly being marketed as the EXTREME! shaving implement du jour. I later found the box sitting on top of the recycling bin. Byrne was tossing it out because he thought it was a "video about shaving." OK, I'll give it to him that the shape of the box did look remarkably similar to that which would hold a VHS tape, but come on. I demonstrated to Byrne the apparently foreign concept of the "free sample" by opening the box and revealing the enclosed razor: The Gillette Fusion, with its stainless-steel-looking handle and trim in cobalt blue and techno orange. It's sporty, y'all. But here's the real gimmick: The thing has four blades. Four. This is getting out of hand, we said. How many blades does one need to cut a hair that's less than 1/8 inch long?

Apparently, four, because the Gillette Fusion has rocked our world. When Byrne came out of the bathroom after using it for the first time, he told me to feel his face, just like the overexcited guys in the shaving-product commercials. And I did, and I swooned, just like the overexcited ladies in the shaving-product commercials. It works just as well on legs, too. I'm not sure if it's the four blades, or the fact that the razor head pivots, or the rubber squeegee-kind-of section under the blades themselves that supposedly preps the tiny hairs for execution, but running this razor over your skin feels like nothing. My delicate skin used to be so prone to razor burn that I sometimes dreaded shaving my legs. No more! Now I can't wait to lather up and break out my sporty EXTREME razor! I'm practically hearing a power-guitar soundtrack behind my evening shower.

The Gillette Fusion! Go out and get one!

{This message paid in part by the National Association of Housebound New Parents Who Clearly Are So Pathetic That They Have Nothing Better to Get Excited About.}