I'm very reluctant to taint this blog with my innumerable personable problems - -
so I'll offer a sanitized version, the Disney version - instead of the raging realms of the depths of hell.
The weather has finally warmed up, but torrential rain and nail-biting storms are nearly an every-day occurrence. Yesterday I thought the house was going to crumble and blow away - - which in retrospect isn't a bad idea.
I won't elaborate on my monumental health issues - which are genuinely scaring the living jeeters out of me. Things are presently so intolerably bad that I've (temporarily??) given up driving (heck, I can hardly walk due to my spinal injury issues).
I ordered a lot of food, which will be delivered on Wednesday. It can't come soon enough, because presently I'm nearly starving.
But that's beside the proverbial point.
Beards?
Am I going to talk about beards???
Please be patient. There's always a method to my madness.
First of all, let me say that I dislike beards intensely. They're generally creepy, unsanitary, and definitely not my style.
A few men look good with beards - but they're the semi-macho GQ cover-boy type, whose beards are meticulously maintained by Beverly Hills gardeners.
You heard me right.
Gardeners. Not barbers.
In my humble and biased opinion, the only men who can safely wear beards are Abe Lincoln, Santa Claus, and the Smith Brothers.
If you don't know who the Smith Brothers are, you're too young to be reading this blog.
Hell, it's only me and the cat here alone. No one gives a flying fig what I look like.
I didn't shave in weeks (or perhaps months).
When I finally took a rare look in the mirror I was horrified to see that I had a beard!!!!
First time in my entire life - - -
and definitely the last time.
I didn't look human. I looked like a left-over spawn from Chernobyl.
