So it's now been eight days since I last shaved.
This happens once or twice a year. Normally it's done on fishing trips; I think it helps me look more intimidating to the fish. The reason for laziness this time is the birth of Max, along with the accompanying eleven days off from work.
I don't look... good, necessarily, with a beard. For the past few years I've tried the goatee thing in the winter, but I never thought I could pull it off. (By the way, I'm not, like, Lincoln or Hemingway right now. Think more Matthew Fox or John Smoltz.) It just doesn't look quite right on me, though. When talking to a co-worker, I said that I feel like I should be on COPS, slurring drunkenly, shirtless, and taking swings at family members.
Clearly, I need to relax more.
In case you're worried, I'm still showering and brushing my teeth. And I plan to be back to boyish, clean-shaven Wade by 6 a.m. on Monday. Assuming I show up on Monday, of course. I may end up getting hopped up on meth tonight, stealing some pistols from a pawn shop, and driving the Sunfire through the front of a Video Update. With this facial hair, you just never can tell.
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