Posts Tagged ‘how to grow a beard’

As I sit here, watching Mad Men, listening to them talk about Margarine versus Butter. Margarine versus Butter.

Are you shitting me? Wikipedia is always right, click that link.

Butter is all goodness.

Margarine sucks. I hate margarine.

Bringing myself back down to ground level down here where I am, at the bottom, up off that so called soap box. I will get to the point that I was going to get to before Margarine and damn Butter came on out.

I ran four miles today. I have been running a lot because that’s what tickles my fancy in the exercising department. I hate running. I think about hating running when I am running. Runners talk about getting a “runner’s high”.

To hell with that! I have never once, ever, been excited about running, excited about going running or excited about thinking about running. Not, never.

I even dislike when I am done running.

But I do love jumping rope. Jumping rope is relaxing and fun and neat. If you dislike jumping rope, it’s probably because you don’t know how.

We as Americans have made some major mistakes as American human beings. Margarine being one. The other, discontinuing the use of lard as an acceptable ingredient for delicious biscuits, and other deliciousness that should be cooked with lard.

My free subscription to Showtime ended yesterday. That is no good. How the hell am I supposed to watch Dexter and shit with not more Showtime? On top of that bad news, there is a rattle in my truck, right behind my left ear.

If there is something that will drive me to the brink of eating margarine, it is a rattle in a vehicle that I can not get to quit rattling. Damn it!

My beard looks exceptional today.

Ya’ll lookie here. If you eat margarine, you are no friend to kittens or puppies. And no friend of mine either.

No SHave Never!

This past weekend was a Baby Gurr free weekend for the Beardess and me. It was our 5th anniversary since our pledge to be love partners and not share a bank account with anyone else but each other.

I remember that day like it was five years ago. I was a beardless, fine ass looking man back then in those there days when I did not have the beard.

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Yep, that fine ass handsome son of a bitch fella right there beside my wife is me. Now ya’ll see why I had to grow a beard. After that ring loopdy ooped onto my left ring finger on May 17, 2008, I became absolutely irresistible to women. I had to grow the beard out to hide this gorgeousness.

Guys who want to grow a beard. The first thing you have to get your wife to accept is acceptance of the beard.

The last time I looked this cot damn handsome was at 10:04 May 17, 2008.

Ya’ll know how everyone says that the sight of the bride is supposed to take your breath away? Well if you attended our wedding, you got your breath taken away twice. Once from my beautiful bride and the next from my beautifully sculpted glimmering beardless face.

I still remember this dance right here. I surely do, I remember the shit out of it. It was our wedding night, the night of our wedding during the reception which was after the wedding. We had food and alcohol. And a DJ, some people came. It was a wedding.

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We decided to head out to the Low Country of South Carolina for an abbreviated weekend, that means short for people with beards. The Low Country is the lower part of South Carolina, where food is divine, people are usually from there and only locals can actually tolerate the summers with little toleration.

Beaufort, SC was our destination. A small, quiet, quaint, little metropolis somewhat a few miles or so south of the bustling city of Charleston, SC. It was grand. We stayed at the Beaufort Inn, which was gorgeous. We ate food at a few places down there in the downtown area, close there by the bay where the water is, and a bridge.

The Confederate Jasmine is in full bloom down in the Low Country right now. It is worth a plane flight down there just to sit and drink some whiskey, beer, wine or sparkling Perrier water.

Happy 5 Years of anniversary to my beautiful bride of five years, from May 17, 2008. The Beardess. She is quiet side and my sane side. I love you!

Also, happy anniversary to the beard from the last five years. I will shave my eyebrows before you.

Ya’ll No SHave Never

Today is Mother’s Day. What a grand day today is. The day churrins get to celebrate their mothers. The day husbands get to help their, under the age of 15, churrins celebrate their mothers.

I would like to wish my momma a Happy Mother’s Day.

I want to wish my wife, the Beardess, a Happy Mother’s Day, from Adurey, the Baby Gurr.

Mother’s Day is a day where mommas can sit back and relax. No worries about Sunday lunches, no cleaning clothes, no running to the grocery store, it is all a day of peace and relaxation. Daddies take care of the children for the day.

This day of relaxation is a small reminder to mothers that there still is a place called sanity, and she is welcome for a tease once a year.

There have been times where I have thought that we should change Mother’s Day for our momma. Instead of Happy Mother’s Day, it will be Happy Mother’s Rehabilitation and Physical Therapy Day.

Today, on this Mother’s Day, my momma sits at home with a broken Tibia, or Fibula, I can not remember which one. No big deal ya’ll, do not worry. She is fine. It was a minor spiral break around the ankle area on her non-kicking leg. Recovery should be about 6 weeks. She was ordered to wear a walking boot for those six weeks, instead of a cast.

It is obvious the doctor did not know who he was talking to. That cast would have been permanent, I want to see how long that boot stays on.

This broken bone thing is not a new thing for momma. Neither is hospital visits.

I am going to try to highlight some of the events momma has accumulated. I will also incorporate my sister Emily’s “Amazing Escapades of Daring Hospital Visits”, because her and my momma are pretty much in a battle for emergency room infamy.

As I said before, momma broke one of those bones down near the ankle. Walking to her car, she stepped off the curb, because it was dark out, and somehow managed to incorporate her foot into a storm drain, in such a manner that the force of impact manipulated the bone so that a crack formed, separating bone from bone, minor injury.

About this same time, Emily, my sister, was dealing with a spider bite, that had just got infected. She was promptly admitted to the hospital for treatment. She ended up with a knot about the size of a baseball on her arm, staph infection, and the rare opportunity to possibly have her arm sliced open for draining! They did not have to open and drain.

Emily about chopped her hand off trying to trim hedges with a hatchet. Yes, trimming bushes, with a hatched.

Momma broke her hip, no shes not 80 or above. This was quite a few years ago. I know, how do you break a hip under the age of 80? She blames Crocs. Those delightfully comfortable plastic open-toed shoes/sandals. But yes, that happened.

There have been surgeries, casts, needles, heart machines, Momma having to use homemade sign language for a month, wheelchairs, walkers, and many more things.

Just about every Mother’s Day that rolls around, my first words after Happy Mother’s Day are, “How’s it healing or How’s therapy?”.

On this Mother’s Day I wish my momma a Happy Mother’s Day. Take it easy and heal up. I got you and Emily a joint gift, share as needed. It is a bubble. Use it wisely.

Follow me on Twitter @paulheels

No SHave Never