The Facial Hair Chronicles

I originally wrote about this subject a few days ago but was retarded and forgot to save my work. Please trust me that the original was much funnier and was written so well that Margaret Atwood would have to blow me if she even read one sentence. Sorry to disappoint but you should be used to it by now.

Up until last week I hadn’t shaved or cut my hair all year. I did this for two reasons, the first being that I’m an incredibly lazy slob who really doesn’t like shaving and the second being that I wanted to see if I could look like “that guy from The Hangover”. Since I can only look like a dirty hobo for so long and since I’ve been told no less than 60 times in the last few months that I looked like Zach Galifianakis I decided it was time for a change.

Now as my longtime readers(ha!) know I generally sport a moustache because it both shows off my awesome face while perfectly framing my mouth. Since I had a decent month or so of hair growth in my beard(I did trim the the beard a couple of times because much like myself my facial hair has a mind of it’s own and would have choked me if it had the chance) I was picturing how impressive a moustache carved from such sturdy cloth would be. I spent weeks just looking at my face and trying to find the perfect angles. I went over my shaving plan in detail and every slight snip was mapped out. This was going to be epic, I’m sure some of you are shitting your pants in excitement now and I can’t say I blame you.

So after months of looking like a man of the verge of a Micheal Douglasesque breakdown here was the crowning achievement of my experiments in shaving:

Apologies for the ruined panties.

Apologies for the ruined panties.

I know what you’re thinking now. How do they allow that much man to be posted on the internet? What if a little boy is searching for information about bikes or tortoises or whatever and then comes accross that picture? Surely he will grow up feeling insignificant and feminine since there is no way in hell that he could possibly to be that awesome.  Why do you hate children?

There’s no need to worry anymore. The glory that is depicted in the photo above is gone; a shadow of it’s former greatness. As men have known since the beginning of time there is only one enemy capable of taming such power.


Now of course I’m not suggesting that dames aren’t totally wet over the ‘stache or the slick-as-fuck hair. In fact I got more attention than ever with it. But that didn’t stop me from selling out and trimming it down a bit because what many fail to realize is that while broads go apeshit at my appearance it doesn’t do me any good because I’m not interested in any of them. I already have a wonderful wife who satisfies all my needs which aren’t related to alcohol.

She hates the moustache.

So I’m left with a choice. Keep an epic moustache to exhibit my glory to the world or continue getting laid on a regular basis. As much as I love the way I look I love orgasms much much more. Of course I expect a lot of comments about me being cunt-whipped but that’s not what this is about. As a highly evolved organism I have the ability to empathize and not think only about myself for short periods of time. My wife is so into me that even a layer of hair separating her from me is traumatic. So it’s really in my best interest to make her happy as it will inevitably make me happy which is more important than funding abortions in impoverished countries(politics yo!).

So yeah the moustache is still there but it has been tamed. Now I can get the the subject of my hair:

I cut it.

Since I spent close to 700 words talking about my moustache I’ll say only this about hair: I hate going to work on the day after a haircut. Everyone feels the need to make a comment about it and very rarely is it something other than “you got a haircut” or “hey you cut your hair”. It’s conversation like this that gets me back to figuring out a way of blowing up the sun just to shut everybody up.

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