Ok so I haven't shaved in pretty much over a week now...
No job, no obligation...no girlfriend complaining about it scratching her (or her trying to shave it off with an electic razor after tying me to the bed in my sleep....but that's another story).
Pity you can't quite make it out from bad phone pics, my hair is kinda fair..and you shall get nothing above the lips, I am being paranoid about my head (read below).
Personally I'm just really saving money on blades and shave gel....or that's what I keep telling myself.
Hehe, secretly I think my subconcious wants to go become a gruff lumberjack in the vast Canadian forests.
So it's gradually turning me into someone who would bear the monkier "Grizzy" before his first name.
As soon as I become a sweaty, smelly, bearded, grumpy, flannel shirt wearing axe-wielder...I'm commiting myself and having my subconcious forceably removed.
All my life I've been forced into the 'metrosexual' category (granted it's only got a name recently, before I was just a freak and considered 'possibly gay').
I've never been comfortable with that title though, metrosexual, let me tell you it's a tough job. It's really hard having sex with cities. The logistics are enormous and its absolutlely exhausting.
I know I'm not that testesterone fueled, burly, man's man guy. I used to fight it, but why bother. It's time to surrender, I just have to rope the inner workings of my brain around to it.
Might be a challenge, my brain doesn't really like me.
It once staged a mutiny with several other organs, with the help of my liver, spleen and using my appendix as a suicide diversion, they tried to make their escape.
I was too quick for em though.
So I'm going to go wash up,wash my hair and use conditioner, shave and use moisturiser to get rid of razor burn, then cast over my looks in the mirror and obsess over the many flaws I find.
Gimmie a manicure and eyeliner and I'll be ready for a dress.
It's been quite a while since I've gotten a compliment from someone so I'm going to go out of my way to spruce myself up and head on the tiles this weekend.
I need new clothes too...but there aren'y any good clothes shops around here.
I shall have to find some...and camp it up. Go gay and maybe then everything will be fabulous.
Ok maybe not.
Edit: I actaully managed to dig out my old 1.3 Megapixel Crap-o-Rama Digital Camera from the bronze-age and take a snap with my guitar. Came out better than my useless phone camera.
I look like a fucking backpacker or something!
So boys, and girls. Can anyone tell me what chord I'm playing? If you can, you'll win a very special prize!
(Ok I lied, it's a can of expired processed peas and I don't want anyone to win em so you cant actaully see me fingering the chord! .... 
naughty!)
No job, no obligation...no girlfriend complaining about it scratching her (or her trying to shave it off with an electic razor after tying me to the bed in my sleep....but that's another story).
Pity you can't quite make it out from bad phone pics, my hair is kinda fair..and you shall get nothing above the lips, I am being paranoid about my head (read below).
Personally I'm just really saving money on blades and shave gel....or that's what I keep telling myself.
Hehe, secretly I think my subconcious wants to go become a gruff lumberjack in the vast Canadian forests.
So it's gradually turning me into someone who would bear the monkier "Grizzy" before his first name.
As soon as I become a sweaty, smelly, bearded, grumpy, flannel shirt wearing axe-wielder...I'm commiting myself and having my subconcious forceably removed.
All my life I've been forced into the 'metrosexual' category (granted it's only got a name recently, before I was just a freak and considered 'possibly gay').
I've never been comfortable with that title though, metrosexual, let me tell you it's a tough job. It's really hard having sex with cities. The logistics are enormous and its absolutlely exhausting.
I know I'm not that testesterone fueled, burly, man's man guy. I used to fight it, but why bother. It's time to surrender, I just have to rope the inner workings of my brain around to it.
Might be a challenge, my brain doesn't really like me.
It once staged a mutiny with several other organs, with the help of my liver, spleen and using my appendix as a suicide diversion, they tried to make their escape.
I was too quick for em though.
So I'm going to go wash up,wash my hair and use conditioner, shave and use moisturiser to get rid of razor burn, then cast over my looks in the mirror and obsess over the many flaws I find.
Gimmie a manicure and eyeliner and I'll be ready for a dress.
It's been quite a while since I've gotten a compliment from someone so I'm going to go out of my way to spruce myself up and head on the tiles this weekend.
I need new clothes too...but there aren'y any good clothes shops around here.
I shall have to find some...and camp it up. Go gay and maybe then everything will be fabulous.
Ok maybe not.
Edit: I actaully managed to dig out my old 1.3 Megapixel Crap-o-Rama Digital Camera from the bronze-age and take a snap with my guitar. Came out better than my useless phone camera.
I look like a fucking backpacker or something!
So boys, and girls. Can anyone tell me what chord I'm playing? If you can, you'll win a very special prize!
(Ok I lied, it's a can of expired processed peas and I don't want anyone to win em so you cant actaully see me fingering the chord! ....
naughty!)
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~cheers