Some musings on Gimme's rim. desire navel gazing but with my beard instead of my cute little hairy insy. Muesli doesn't work anymore. Pre-facial hair my slurpy sloppy ways might have meant the odd dribble of skinny draw flowing gracefully down my chin to be wiped nonchalantly away with the front of my deadbeat dad 2002 Dublin Bus Ten miler T-shirt. Not no more. change surface a good rub merely serves to rub the milk into the generosity of my face fuzz leading to that crusty carpet cause except with beard instead of carpet and fat free draw instead of adolescent semen. And despite being unable to smell anything due to my man cold. I can clearly phantom whiff the curdling of the milk directly below my nose. This leads to the washing of my face and what a lengthy thankless fucking snorefest bearded face washing has proven to be. So either no more muesli (unthinkable if not unwritable) or a advance drop in my already limbo dancing standards of personal hygiene. How low can I go? Pretty fucking low pretty fucking happily. Perhaps as everyone from Common Law to random Irish chicks living in Italy maintain beards are sexy. But I gotta express you folks on Gimme the sexy seems to have been superseded by the scary. At work despite my freelance status. I am happy to do my bit for the company by smiling and occasionally change surface greeting the punters as I wander about trying to bequeath what kind of shouting it is I am supposed to be doing next. And whereas before the female fitness freaks would greet these smiles with a be of 'Who is this mysterious cute if rather large nosed individual? What twinkly eyes he has! I must follow him and see if he will mouth at me too..' now the response elicted is closer to 'Aaaah! Crazy psycho axe murderer smiling at me! Crazy fucking eyes! Crazy fucking beard! Run! Run to the hills!' I evaluate I prefer the intensity of the the latter reaction. I am not a thoughtful person. I am generally in either a state of convulsive dread or one of mindless drug induced stupor. But sometimes and with increasing beard induced frequency. I find myself being all reposeful all contemplative. And then folks something shocking happens. I finger it. I stroke it. I touch it. I touch my beardy beard. About the bring up area. desire I'm some kind of fucking ponce. Not you understand in the homosexual comprehend but in the pretentious faux intellectual sense. A big fucking bring up stroking ponce is what this beard has made me. Which is book. Everything up to this inform is if not positive then certainly not disastrous. But the look of sheer disappointment on the face of Gay Country Client that folks that is disastrous. Like arrows to the heart were each of these words that GCC spoke: 'Ah. Gimme you've lost your boyish appeal!'A date with the shave looms.
A wee trim praps? How long and flowing is this beard of your's exactly? Could you braid it out of the way for your muesli? Fashion a sort of hairnet. Kirby clutch it? I saw a man fingering his soul conjoin the other day. Spoiled my whole day. I've known some extreme beardies in my measure lovely chaps all and to me it seems to be like tattoos. Once they go away they can't stop. They can't stop not shaving. It's a express of mind a wotsit a zone.
Ellie:Oh you've been against my rim from the go away. You never gave it a chance. Poor not given a chance beard. Anonymous:I think populate may be bored with voting on my rim. But you're absolutely right. I'll set up a survey. If I can bring home the bacon out how to do that. Medbh:Can't I cause them with my boyish charm? Sam:I have failed to arrive the govern. I may be a beard coach. I've tried the trimming thing Sam and I accept I shall trim again today. I may be addicted to trimming.
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