Goatee or not Goatee - That is the Question
There comes a time in every young man's life when the chameleon-like ability to grow facial hair begs to be explored in all its depilatory-free majesty. For me, that time was last week. Now I know that you are thinking, but why have you waited 29 years to don some whiskers? The answer is that it has literally taken me that long to be able to produce them in full enough quantity to move-up from cookie duster lip hairs to Magnum PI mustache.
Nonetheless, after a recent three-day respite from shaving, I decided to manscape my stuble into a mustache/goatee combination platter. I orginally thought this was called a fu man chu, but have learned upon investigation that the fu man chu is more of an evil-looking handle bar mustache with an asian twist.
The first few days of the new-found facial hair was very empowering. I felt older, wiser, sexier ... like I should be playing pool and drinking beer in a commercial. It also inspired new fashion: untucked ringer t-shirts, jeans, flip flops and a California surfer-boy swagger. After all, I was facially disheveled without a care in the world.
By about the third day, the mustache part of the fashion trend really started to kick in. No longer did I have the pouty upper lip speckled with 5 o'clock shadow. Suddenly, I had tiny red and blonde porcupine quills hanging over my lip catching lint and wayward food particles. The magic was gone. Not only did I start to feel like a reject from a low budget porn movie, but I developed a new habit of incessantly stroking my upper lip with my pointer finger. It gave the impression that either a) I was continuously smelling something bad, or b) I had decided to reinact the "time to make the donuts" commercials from my youth where the Dunkin Donuts baker (creepy link, huh) went in drag hiding his furry face with a lone digit. Either way, it was not very attractive or hygenic.
So last night, I bid adiu to the mustache portion, but kept the goatee on for a few more days of evaluation and observation. Now I would say that my new look is kind of artsy, but to my surprise, today a co-worker called it "beatnicky." Hmmmmm beatnicky (I say stroking my goatee, because I can). Not quite the look I was going for. Now I'm suffering from a Shaggy from Scooby Doo complex fearing that I will begin blurting out uncontrollable "ZOINKS" at any moment.
So now what? I'm giving it a few more days. After all, its just hair and there are so many options. I mean the true defintion of a goatee is "a man's beard so trimmed as to resemble the pointed beard of a goat." Perhaps I will grow it long and wrangle it with rubber bands like the former WWF star Captain Lou Albano. But most likely I will just shave it off and begin anew.
Love, Love
Love as pro-facial hair as this creepy book I just found online in my beard reasearch. Yikes!
Love, Jef
P.S. I'm thrilled to announce that my Paulette Goddard y Flora painting won a first-prize blue ribbon at the Lakewood Library Art fair (they like me, they really like me). It will be there on display through June.
Nonetheless, after a recent three-day respite from shaving, I decided to manscape my stuble into a mustache/goatee combination platter. I orginally thought this was called a fu man chu, but have learned upon investigation that the fu man chu is more of an evil-looking handle bar mustache with an asian twist.
The first few days of the new-found facial hair was very empowering. I felt older, wiser, sexier ... like I should be playing pool and drinking beer in a commercial. It also inspired new fashion: untucked ringer t-shirts, jeans, flip flops and a California surfer-boy swagger. After all, I was facially disheveled without a care in the world.
By about the third day, the mustache part of the fashion trend really started to kick in. No longer did I have the pouty upper lip speckled with 5 o'clock shadow. Suddenly, I had tiny red and blonde porcupine quills hanging over my lip catching lint and wayward food particles. The magic was gone. Not only did I start to feel like a reject from a low budget porn movie, but I developed a new habit of incessantly stroking my upper lip with my pointer finger. It gave the impression that either a) I was continuously smelling something bad, or b) I had decided to reinact the "time to make the donuts" commercials from my youth where the Dunkin Donuts baker (creepy link, huh) went in drag hiding his furry face with a lone digit. Either way, it was not very attractive or hygenic.
So last night, I bid adiu to the mustache portion, but kept the goatee on for a few more days of evaluation and observation. Now I would say that my new look is kind of artsy, but to my surprise, today a co-worker called it "beatnicky." Hmmmmm beatnicky (I say stroking my goatee, because I can). Not quite the look I was going for. Now I'm suffering from a Shaggy from Scooby Doo complex fearing that I will begin blurting out uncontrollable "ZOINKS" at any moment.
So now what? I'm giving it a few more days. After all, its just hair and there are so many options. I mean the true defintion of a goatee is "a man's beard so trimmed as to resemble the pointed beard of a goat." Perhaps I will grow it long and wrangle it with rubber bands like the former WWF star Captain Lou Albano. But most likely I will just shave it off and begin anew.
Love, Love
Love as pro-facial hair as this creepy book I just found online in my beard reasearch. Yikes!
Love, Jef
P.S. I'm thrilled to announce that my Paulette Goddard y Flora painting won a first-prize blue ribbon at the Lakewood Library Art fair (they like me, they really like me). It will be there on display through June.
posted by Tingleyallover at 7:09 PM
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