Confessions of a 30 Year Old Bearded Man

I have started to grow a beard. It’s been nearly two weeks since my last full shave.

Out of curiosity (and Friday-afternoon-work-induced boredom), I decided to check out beard grooming sites, and came across All About Beards. Helpful and often creepy, the site is unequivocally devoted to all things beards!

Left menu options include “growing a beard”, “beard grooming”, “beard galleries”, “beard videos[!!!]” (emphasis mine), and on the “success stories” page, testimonials from many men about the beard growing process. When asked how he likes being a full-bearded man, Michael (17 y.o.) replies:

I love it! It makes me look wiser, older, and much more masculine. I am only 5'7" (170 cm) tall, so without facial hair, I would look like a kid. With the beard, I look like a man! People tell me that I look like twenty-one or older. It's great! I also feel much better about myself. I feel that I am truly a man. It's a means of self expression [sic]...

Needless to say, the testimonials are my favourite part. Really, I should stop being such a bitch. I mean, maybe the site will be helpful when I have a pressing beard related question. But now that I'm bearded, hence wise, I don't think I'll need the creepy site any longer.

Wikipedia: Reliable Resource or Dangerous Collectivism?

A few weeks ago, I was listening to Sunday Edition and heard an interview with Jaron Lanier. The interview centered on his recent essay: DIGITAL MAOISM: The Hazards of the New Online Collectivism. In a nutshell, Lanier discusses the problem with Wikipedia, and what he sees as the beginnings of artificial intelligence. It’s an excellent essay if you have some time to give it a read.

Check it out on The Edge.

Shoe Issues

I have found the perfect pair of shoes. Notice the alternating grey to black on the leather and the blue stitching. Each shoe is a unique masterpiece! The problem is that I can't find them anywhere in Montreal. One store has them, but doesn't have my size. No other store in my fair city carries them, and Camper won't sell them to me online or via their phone center.

I have been obsessing over these puppies for two weeks, and I can't get them out of my head. Do I have isshoes or what? I feel like SJP without her favourite pair of Manolo Blahniks.

I think that I might just have to check out the stores in Toronto when I go in a couple of weeks. Sigh... If anybody sees them in the meantime and wants to surprise me, I'm a size 11 (model 17887-001, you know, just to be sure).

Ode to Gilda

Recently, I was thinking about SNL back in the good 'ol days: you know, when Gilda Radner and Jane Curtain graced our television screens with their presence. Although I wanted to share the Hey You perfume spoof ad with you, but I thought that this one would do. Happy belated Rosh Hashanah!

Citing Sources

Although I’d like to take credit for the clever name of this blog, I have to cite my source. A long time ago, in the far off land of Ottawa there was a closeted twink who spent a lot of time at his friend Lentil’s home. On the back door of the Lentil’s family’s house, her parents had hung a wooden sign that read “Backdoor friends are best.” When our mutual friend Danny Boi (who is incidentally, a girl) and I first saw this sign and read it out loud we both exchanged glances and a giggle. She knew what was on my mind.

Strangely, the sign somehow pushed a button: thus beginning my coming out. One by one, I revealed to all of my bitches that backdoor friends are indeed the best!

I tried to find a replica of the sign by doing a Google image search, but only came up with this.

Lentil and her dear husband are leaving this very day for a trip around the world. For the next year, I crown them “The Globetrotters,” and will follow their every move by reading their travel blog religiously. I wish I were running from everything…

Mr. T's Bed Sketch

Now that Mr. T and I have passed the five-year benchmark, we've decided to upgrade our bed. Believe it or not, we've been cramming ourselves into a double this whole time. Although we're doing it mostly for ourselves, we can't help but think that our feline dependant played some role in motivating us to do so. I'm sure she'll be more than happy to continue claiming a third of the (read: her) new bed (read: throne).



This is the sketch that Mr. T drew as a proposal to the *hot* carpenter that will be making our bed (with his own two hands (!) drool…).