Tommy the Bearded Man
I’ve been growing my beard out for the past week, mainly because I’ve been on vacation, but mostly because I’m bored. It’s coming in nicely now (for the most part), except for that it’s half gray, which is still disturbing. Oh, sure – half of my hair is already gray at age 40, but does my temporary facial hair need to also come in white? Makes me feel old.
Regardless, I’m only going to hang onto my beard for another week or so, then I’ll introduce it to Mr. Norelco. Truth be told, it’s itchy. I’m not sure how people put up with them for years on end. Now I know what dogs scratch all day long - God, I hope I don't have fleas.
But the biggest problem with Sir Thomas the Hairy is that my beard is pokey. It’s like having 7,000 little pointy knives embedded on your face. And as the Lovely Mrs. G. has so eloquently put it, it’s like kissing a porcupine. So to improve my chances of smooching my beautiful bride without causing bodily injury to either one of us, the beard will have to go away.
But first...I have some people to freak out with it. Skippy Whitebread won’t know what to make of it once we all return to work on Tuesday, and I can’t wait to see the reaction from some of my other co-workers. It’ll annoy them silently, and I’m curious to see how many people actually mention it, and how many others just ignore it.
Although, odds are high that they may not even notice it. I had a mustache for almost 10 years that I finally shaved off in 1996 when I went to work for The Mouse (Uncle Walt liked his Cast Members clean shaven), and with the exception of Mrs. G. and Miss Katie, very few people noticed it was gone. Most of the time the reaction was “Oh, you had a mustache?” Okay, it wasn’t the greatest mustache of all time (it was more "Clark Gable" than "Harry Reams"), but it was part of me for a long time. Sheesh, can’t we all mourn the passing of my ‘stache with a little more respect than that?
I know that a beard isn’t part of my personality. But what the heck – every couple of years you have to do *something* to mess with your life, and the way I see it, this is a lot easier to get out of than a tattoo or some really disturbing body piercing.
So I’ll walk around giving the world my best Grizzly Adams impersonation for a few more days, then I’ll go shave it off and go back to being plain old Tommy G., the guy who is rugged on the inside, but smoooooooth on the outside.
Oooooh, yeah.
Regardless, I’m only going to hang onto my beard for another week or so, then I’ll introduce it to Mr. Norelco. Truth be told, it’s itchy. I’m not sure how people put up with them for years on end. Now I know what dogs scratch all day long - God, I hope I don't have fleas.
But the biggest problem with Sir Thomas the Hairy is that my beard is pokey. It’s like having 7,000 little pointy knives embedded on your face. And as the Lovely Mrs. G. has so eloquently put it, it’s like kissing a porcupine. So to improve my chances of smooching my beautiful bride without causing bodily injury to either one of us, the beard will have to go away.
But first...I have some people to freak out with it. Skippy Whitebread won’t know what to make of it once we all return to work on Tuesday, and I can’t wait to see the reaction from some of my other co-workers. It’ll annoy them silently, and I’m curious to see how many people actually mention it, and how many others just ignore it.
Although, odds are high that they may not even notice it. I had a mustache for almost 10 years that I finally shaved off in 1996 when I went to work for The Mouse (Uncle Walt liked his Cast Members clean shaven), and with the exception of Mrs. G. and Miss Katie, very few people noticed it was gone. Most of the time the reaction was “Oh, you had a mustache?” Okay, it wasn’t the greatest mustache of all time (it was more "Clark Gable" than "Harry Reams"), but it was part of me for a long time. Sheesh, can’t we all mourn the passing of my ‘stache with a little more respect than that?
I know that a beard isn’t part of my personality. But what the heck – every couple of years you have to do *something* to mess with your life, and the way I see it, this is a lot easier to get out of than a tattoo or some really disturbing body piercing.
So I’ll walk around giving the world my best Grizzly Adams impersonation for a few more days, then I’ll go shave it off and go back to being plain old Tommy G., the guy who is rugged on the inside, but smoooooooth on the outside.
Oooooh, yeah.
posted by Tommy G at
9:20 AM
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