too beard? or not too beard?

bad ass

















baby's ass





So I decided to get rid of the beard of solitude. Not because I am no longer alone, far from it. It was reaching the point of ridicule, and had to be destroyed. The jawline trim was threatening to consume my entire being. I would stare at it for hours on end trying to decide what, if anything, it said about my inner emotional state. Was it an attractive brown cloud hovering moss-like beneath my pendulous jaw, threatening rain (what?), or a lazy accessory to a defective man's societal charade. And it was lopsided and did not come in very well. Farewell my itchy friend.

Also, I need a well-fitting suit jacket. That is all my "wardrobe," and by extension my life, needs. If I had one of those, I could rename this shit The Pony Party, and we could dance for the rest of our lives in the strobing glow of my messianic aesthetics.

(p.s. Thanks go to Lemony Snicket for the finest instance of two word alliteration in the history of this blog. One love.)