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Went to Dairy Queen for a Blizzard tonight, and it was a sad sight to behold. Burned through two napkins, the second of which looked like it was used for target practice from a white paint gun. Despite the short interval from “It’s time for a change” to “Why the fuck do I keep doing this to myself?”, I’m once again contemplating taking my beard down a few notches at minimum.

I would try a beardstache, except that requires a chin that’s not plural. It also requires a moustache that would actually hit puberty, instead of being as wispy as the Leafs' chances of ever winning a Stanley Cup again. The first of those is a work in progress, as I’m busting my fat ass to become…a…thin ass, I guess? (Is there a better term for this that doesn’t sound like a grammatical train wreck?)

The second of those I’m less hopeful about, as apparently I can still grow thicker hair on the back of my head than my upper lip. I only know this because I’ve been lazy, and haven’t shaved my head for some time. Notice I said back of my head and not side, or top. Sides are both wispy as well, and there are ancient warships that have been around longer than the top of my hairline, so that’s super.

Looks like tomorrow’s shave could be quite adventurous…

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