Monday, January 26, 2009
I Keep My Friends Close And My Chin Hairs Closer
You know how certain weed species get introduced to an area outside their native habitat and they immediately set out to virulently choke out the natural landscape? Yeah, well, wiry chin hairs keep cropping up to destroy my natural beauty despite the Herculian efforts aimed at eradicating them.
As I pondered the uses that an overabundance of chin whiskers can provide, I indulgently chuckled. I envisioned myself taking the hoity toity art world by storm as I create abstractly avant garde masterpieces using only the bristles of my custom chin hair paintbrush. I'm a humanitarian at heart but I'm woefully short of the required hair length necessary to weave a wig for Locks Of Love. I'd like to maybe make my own line of chin toupees for the hair follicle-challenged hipsters out there. It must be agonizing to attend poetry slams and indie rock concerts devoid of the de rigeur goatee. How I weep for them. I yearn to transform my own hirsute misfortunes into soul patch happiness for others.
I try to remain optimistic about life despite my smooth skin shortcomings but then I ran into my old friend Mrs. Sam at the park on Saturday.
As we chatted, my eyes kept disobediently gravitating towards Mrs. Sam's jutting chin. And then the stark realization occurred that Mother Nature is nothing more than a cruel and insidious harpy.
Mrs. Sam and I go wayyyyy back. So far back that I've actually blogged our most scintillating tales complete with hand-drawn pictures from the second-oldest Infidel daughter. From making a binding verbal pledge vowing that we'd never cannibalize one another's family in a time of famine to animated discussions of us potentially teaming up to run for President/Vice President, Mrs. Sam and I have mused about many things.
At the time (2006) Mrs. Sam seemed adamant that I ascend to the top of the ticket since a black candidate could never win a Presidential election in America. Surprise!
Mrs. Sam And I Are Both Immortalized In That Song Called "Doin Tha Butt"
An Anti-Cannibalism Contract Between Friends Who Don't Have The Last Name Donner
Anyway, I'm 30-ish, white, and I suffer with the heartbreak of strikingly noticeable black chin hair that furls and curls as it makes its way across my chin like a giant scraggly tumbleweed. Mrs. Sam is 50-ish, black, and suffers from an extreme proliferation of shaggy white chin hair as though her face is merely masking her real identity as the Abominable Snowman.
Ebony and ivory NOT living together in perfect harmony. Side-by-side on our chin pores, so gross, oh Lord, why can't weeee(afford electrolysis).
Do you see the unfairness of the situation?
Everyone desires to stand out in a crowd but this just isn't the way to go about doing it.
A chin hair swap would absolve both of us of our heavy unwanted hair burdens. I have what Mrs. Sam wants and she has what I need. If that's not possible, how about just some decent chin hair camo or chin hair ammo? Is that too much to hope for?
How I long to one day have the authority to truculently shriek: "Not by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin.........cause I don't have any" to an advancing foe.