Like all enterprising young boys, I looked forward to the day that I could enjoy a full beard; one that beamed of strength and menace and the chopping of nature. However, I think I might officially throw in the towel on the concept entirely!
Being a nomadic individual that fancies the rejection of your utopian ideals such as job-having and job-working, there was no time better than the present to give bearding another go. Though I cannot scientifically explain the phenomenon in which my facial hair only grows in the style of “gay retail manager” or “gay poet what works a retail job on the side,” I can pray that this is not a portent of the future and present an artistic representation of my face in the form of a pseudo-scientific diagram.
Surely I would shave it off, had I a straight razor and some relieving salve.
subhumanzoids 