Lately I've been able to get away with shaving once a week. Before heading out to the beach I'll do a quick and nasty shave. Rubbing sun screen into a face with week old chin hair makes me an odd looking Santa.

Today's shave is a little different. Firstly I'm not going to the beach and secondly I won't be doing the shaving. Cautiously jumping on an American Crew invitation passed on by Primped I accepted the offer of having a shave, by a stranger.

Up until today the only person who has ever held a sharp implement to my face has been me. Arriving on time at the Grand Royal Barbers I was greeted by American Crew PR reps and fifth generation barber Steve Salecic. Salecic was quick to measure the coarseness of my stubble and offer me a seat in a traditional barber shop chair.

This whole point of this exercise is to promote American Crew new shave range. It can be broken down into two parts: stuff you apply before and after you shave. For me shaving cream is a pretty obvious requirement, most gents who like having skin on there face would agree. Aftershave is subject to availability in my bathroom. I have never knowingly bought any nor do I have the desire to apply any.

Sitting so far back in the chair it felt like a dentist could happily drill away if need be. Then came out the hot towel to loosen those pours that hold everything down. It covered my whole face as if my eye brows needed shaving. Once unmasked, the shaving cream was carefully lathered on with a shaving brush. Eventually after all the preparation and my confession of 'I'm usually done now' the main act appears: the cut throat razor.

This little tool is what shaving should be all about. Using the cut throat is like carrying a loaded gun in your underpants. Things can get messy very easily. Mastering a cut throat is like becoming a marksmen. Carefully shaving with and against the grain Salecic quite happily drags the razor around my virtually non-existent neck.

After all evidence of facial puberty has been removed a cooling after shave is massaged into my naked face. One more hot towel engulfs me and Salecic tidies up. Checking out my sweet cheeks in the mirror I get the feeling of a shave with a brand new razor. With a cut throat and a barber the smoothness is even in those tricky spots.

Upon completion I was presented with an American Crew shaving gift pack, containing: Moisturizing Shave Cream, Post-Shave Cooling Lotion and a nicely weighted razor handle. I'm actually more excited about using the razor handle then the actual products!

Being one of the digital cogs in the Estèe Lauder online machine, I managed to score some products. As our little relationship was nearing to an end, they provided some parting gifts!

In this pandora's bag of male beauty products came Eau De Toilette Spray and Hydrating Emulsion from Tom Ford. Simple, one is a spray and the other hopefully hydrates skin.

Coming home from a beach run I reread the instructions. The spray was pretty much self explanatory printing nothing but ingredients. Further investigation reveals that the spray, like Viagra, comes from the wood family of fragrances. The hydrator details how rubbing it into your body is a seductive way to smell like Tom Ford. Whilst softening and soothing your skin.

After removing what was left of the beach in the shower I cracked open the hydrator. Squeezing the tube I resisted the urge to a discharge a typical sunscreen portion. Smelling like Tom Ford on a quite Monday night didn't seem all that desirable.

Rubbing it into my chest I felt like a knob. Rubbing it into my face I felt like an even bigger knob. This was going well good. Rubbing it into my arms actually was okay. It was the only place my nose could reach to smell Tom Ford (kind of like the Nautica cologne I got for my 18th). As for my skin, it's still burnt from the weekend.

Now for the wood infused spray. It looks like something a gold chain wearing pimp would have in his overnight bag. The label and the nozzle are gold. Same for the fragrance in an urine kind of way. After not having a shave I applied the spray. Of course in the same way every kid who has seen his dad apply after shave or cologne: quickly. Quickly because if its going to sting, let it hit all at once. Three sprays around the neck. If your pumping out more then five your wasting it. As well as openly advertising yourself to mosquitoes.

So now that my arms smell like Tom Ford and my neck like my dad I wonder what is next. I only get this stuff as gifts and rarely use them to the end. For the next couple of mornings I'll dig deep and use this stuff again. In all honesty these products are only going to be used when going to social events and BDSM classes.

Now only if I can get Holden to show some love as well...

When visiting the southern island of New Zealand, if you can survive crossing Orc country, make the extra effort and visit the temple of the Fergburger. Fortified in the center of Queenstown, devouring a Fergburger is a must for any traveler.

To truly experience New Zealand one must be prepared to sample the local produce. An acceptable way to do this is between two pieces of bread in the shape of a hamburger. Luckily enough, Ferburger has such a hamburger.

Arriving late on a cool summer night I lined up with other visiting night owls. Drooling over the menu and not wanting to over complicate things, choosing the self titled 'The Fergburger' seemed obvious. Unfortunately eating inside the temple was disallowed (it was later then late). Although dampening the path to enlightenment, eating outside didn't seem all that bad.

The heavens opened and in a paper bag my very own Ferburger arrived. At that time it became difficult to maintain the illusion of an intelligent being. Half way through the Ferburger I had to come up for air and the animal instincts resided. The same enjoyment was shared by fellow vultures, the burger was dam tasty. Aside from the beef with its own secret herbs the burger is practical in construction.

The bread is soft, but thick enough to protect fingers from drowning in sauce. Unlike most gourmet hamburgers, a Ferburger will remain intact. The beef paddy is actually edible and doesn't require four sets of teeth. After finishing your first, the sweet after taste makes it seem logical to order another 14. Luckily thirst was high and a search for a watering hole began.

Culinary expert Gorney of Ping Pong fame also provides a review of his virgin encounter with the Fergburger.

If you happen to visit Dunedin, you might want to check out the steepest street in the world and maybe go for a roll.

Took a chance on a no brainer competition last Friday. The mighty fine folk at Triple J were offering double passes to see an exclusive screening of an Australian flick: Newcastle. To compete, I typed in some obvious information and bam. No need to thrash out 25 words of well thought out ego boosting crap. In the end the event wasn't as exclusive as initially thought. No exclusive ticket ripping. Just an usher pointing into the general direction. Being one of only a handful wearing office attire, the cinema felt like a beach party. Kind of like dressing up to a Star Wars premier.

The surfing movie comes outs of a NSW mining settlement. Centered around a junior surfer with father issues (Shane Jacobson of Kenny fame). Jesse is destined to be the next world champion. After not qualifying for the local championships Jesse and his blonde haired friends go away for a surfing weekend without parental consent.

After loosing his virginity Jesse has an altercation with his not so friendly half brother. Blood is shed which is followed by tears, then some more surfing. Of which the surfing footage is quite good.

What you do appreciate is the lack of Australian humor and slang in cinema today. So refreshing the whole cinema engages in laughter. Sadly, Newcastle quickly spoils itself by the continuous use of 'mate' in dialog. As if it was a secret surfer code.

Although there is a need to promote Australian films, only see Newcastle if you can scam some free tickets: At the movies November 6, 2008.

Deep in hibernation BT rolls over and stumbles upon some steroid induced family entertainment. Surely grown men wrestling in outfits conceived at the Mardi Gras can't sell out an arena built for Olympians?

Wrestlers flying under the WWE banner sure can. On a late Sunday evening, Sydney's Acer Arena was engulfed by young families oozing excitement. Crowding around a boxing ring with more bounce then a trampoline we watched blokes (and some diva's) play wrestle. Even the casual observer would be impressed by the airborne trickery. The pre-bout dialogue, is performed by two beings sharing a single brain cell. Less entertaining then overacting on a community television advertisement.

The mere size of the wrestlers is most impressive. The skyscraper stance of Kane and The Great Khali screams brute force. Though they are out done by The Undertaker. That name has been wrestling for more then 20 years. A crowd favourite with trademark grave yard sound effects. With an apparent ban he was graciously invited back for an non-title fight... who would of guessed. Ring side fans only paid $350 to watch mountains of sweat grope each other. Surely they would understand a The Undertaker no show due to the immediate life ban.

Actually the life ban I just came up with. Anyone can write a WWE storyline, really. Though it was entertaining to watch: Stronger then I'll ever be, diva's pulling each other's hair; Title fighters Batista and Edge pretend hit in the crowd; Lastly, to watch The Undertaker perform a tombstone piledriver. It's still something I wouldn't pay for. Luckily for the sake of my wallet, a friend had free tickets.

Welcome to the relaunch of Bloke Threads (BT). So far beyond Vogue its all about the Threads now.

Bloke Threads comes to you live and direct. Digitally delivered on a silver platter full of everyday bloke misgivings and shenanigans.

Lock the new address blokethreads.com. Update those bookmarks and RSS feeds.

The humble hoodie is forcibly taking a going over by the fashion world. The New York Fashion Week has been exposed by overly covered models flaunting the Little Miss Riding Hood look. The autumn G-Star Raw show also had models showing a severe lack of skin with hoodie combinations suitable for North Pole expeditions.

Another street label from the UK, Criminal Damage, has designed a hoodie providing full facial coverage with goggles! It's been dubbed a hooligan's tool. So popular with teenagers politicians are trying to ban it. They do seem somewhat threating. I would give way to Miss Riding Hood wearing a hooligan hoodie if our paths crossed. At least she was being sun smart.

Though it doesn't really bother me but American Apparel (AA) have swallowed a bit of bad press lately. Not long after my post praising AA's graffiti free hoodies founder Dov Charney got flamed. Wearing a sock on his little man and asking a colleague to perform obvious sexual acts caused lawyers to join in on the party. Further reading into Dov suggests the above actions as the natural progression of employer to employee relations within AA. Dov (not sure if this a cool name yet) openly admitted to wearing nothing but AA underwear around the office, calling women derogative terms and possibly end up sleeping with them. Now they have can there fun in public as they play it through the court system.

What else could be wrong with AA? Did you know it will make you look like a fat hooker.

If you have ever bought a T-Shirt online with some sort of custom art work it is likely that the shirt is from American Apparel (AA). They make really cool casual clothes without branding. Bonds would be the Australian equivalent without the focus on underwear. Many a time I have wanted to purchase a top of some sort purely on style. Though not actually making the purchase due to the graffiti like art work. AA have a great range and I plan to make a purchase, some of the hoodies seem a bit pricey though.

I was recently reminded by a post on Manolo for the Men about Pocket Protectors that the more functional clothing is, the less desirable it is. Since the onset of cargo pants, it has been fascinating how designers borrow ideas from existing highly functional clothing. All imaginable pockets have been preconceived from tradesman like industries. Sending the image that the wearer needs the additional pockets to hold tools when they really bang keyboards from nine to five.

If your in the need of additional naval gazing in middle of summer catch the highlights of the Victoria's Secret 2007 fashion show. Which blessed our screens just before Christmas.

Local male underwear producer aussieBum (with dick pointing technology) are sponsoring four blokes to drive from Sydney to Dublin. The Crazy Journey boys bought a second hand hummer and took off on an endless adventure of partying in the hope of spreading the word of youth mental illness. I must be the only one who can not see the relationship between partying and mental illness.

Had a bit of a run in yesterday. My poor little stationary Mazda was violated by a Nissan Path Finder wearing a bullbar the size of Tasmania. Pushing me forward into the rear of the car in front. The Nissan hit me at quite a pace, enough to throw my sun glasses off (a MySpace junkie blogger would post a self taken picture of themselves wearing the glasses in question... I'll hold off the urge).

Now I am getting reacquaint with the every day CityRail commuter. Eventually my daily thought process will be deciding whether to slit my wrists before or after getting onto the train. It's great being virtually legless, especially when I have to be in Wollongong for the weekend.