If all else fails, there is the nuclear option: buy a safety razor. It has one blade, no fortress, and zero plastic. You just twist the handle, and the blade falls out like a polite houseguest.
But if you’re stubborn (like me), you’ll ignore that advice and keep fighting the cartridge. Because nothing says “I am the master of my domain” like staring at a pile of dismembered plastic and a single, liberated blade.
So go ahead. Grab that razor, channel your inner MacGyver, and remember: you are smarter than a piece of plastic. Even if your fingertips look like you wrestled a paper shredder. You’ve got this. Just, you know, watch your thumbs.
