Beard Growing

Those of you who, like me, have never really let a beard grow out should heed some advice.

Those among you who have grown real beards will tell you: "the itchy phase ends." Allow me to assure you that this is merely a semantic point. The itchy phase, proper, does end. But it is replaced by a phase marked by an oddly disconcerting feeling every time you move your face. While this is not technically one of "itchiness," it is related, and let me tell you it is just as pervasive and just as annoying (if not more so).

We all know that shaving sucks. So lets just stick to stubble, ok?

Pikckle

I recently opened a jar of pickles. It was bad. Let me restate that: I opened a jar of bad pickles.

Pickles are invincible, they never die, rot, decay, sour, degrade, or (most importantly) become anything other than pickles.

This I know. Or, at least, I knew. Or, I thought I knew. If I knew anything, it was that. But now, that is gone.

If pickles can decay, so can anything else so can anything I thought to be real my belief in everything is shaken shaken to the root to the core beyond sentences

Hell, I only even post this because I have begun to doubt my knowledge that no one reads this blog!. Ugh. Fuck all. Time to obliterate the rest of my propositional thoughts with alcohol.

It's the little logical impossilitities of life,

Frequently, when I buy coffee, I am asked something along the lines of "do you want room for cream?"

Of course, I do want creme. But I don't want as much as they think I do. So I am only left with one option: that I do want creme, but I don't want room for it. But it is a logical impossibility that I want a substance that takes up no space.

It is, of course, excruciating to me to face this conceptual impossibility so often.

Though, not as excruciating as getting an ounce less coffee than I paid for.