Not by the hair on my chinny chin... WTF?

Ok, so I'm more than comfortable stating that I'm getting older.  Unlike my sarcasm, my body doesn't seem to be maintaining it's fresh and youthful demeanor.  As I continue to age, I feel equal parts of peace and enraged hatred at this reality.  On one hand you have to recognize that you are losing your youth, but you are gaining wisdom and insight.  Personally, I could take this idea of gaining wisdom if it didn't come with a peppering of body hair in random areas all over my body. 

What the hell is the deal with the chin hairs?  I mean, COME ONREALLY?  The worst is when you're in a meeting with your peers (or at a play date with a new mom), and you find yourself unable to stop the back and forth motion of your thumb while its feeling around for the little chinny's.  That light scratch of the firm hair protruding from your chin on your finger tip is frigging addictive.  Throwing away the tweezers and shaving my face from below the line of my eyebrows all the way to my chin would be considerably less effort.  Maybe I could just grow everything out to relieve that bearded lady from her circus commitment (thinking to self: I have been wanting to change careers, and see the world more).  The more I pluck, the more I consider adopting a beard and twisting it like a 16th century Spanish soldier's mustache.  It could prove to be an excellent ice breaker, and I'm really not that skilled at conversation to begin with.  I could twist and fondle it as I pondered world politics... "Hmmm... that's IN-TER-EST-ING."  That twisting fondle motion with facial hair always comes across like you are a deep and philosophical person in the movies. 

Even more problematic is the specimen that I like to call, the "Unicorn Hair".  I found one of these growing out of the middle of my boobs.  AWESOME.  It was (as they are usually found) randomly placed outside of any normal area for hair and in a twisted little piggie tail curl smack in the middle of my chest - like a Unicorn Horn protruding from my body.  My question to the universe was, "How the hell did I miss this long ass hair growing out of the middle of my chest?"  Letting out a "GASP" upon its discovery, I quickly and covertly reached down into my cleavage and angrily ripped it out like a weed in a rose garden.  Looking around praying to god that no one saw it.  How many Target employees saw this horn and didn't say anything?  Was this what the creepy old man at the inspection station was staring at, and NOT my boobs?  Is that why he said, "I like my women a little natural." with that equally creepy toothless smile? 

Crap.  It's official... I am going to laser my whole body, starting with my shoulders.

Downward Pore Unclogging Spiral

Have you ever wanted to clear your pores out so badly, that you literally scrape your skin off with your nails trying to get that one ridiculously blocked pore?  It's terrible enough to admit doing that, but to also have repeated this act on numerous occasions is just embarrassing. 

The process always starts off simple enough...
Wash face, brush teeth, maybe floss a little, look at some face products and then get up REAL CLOSE to the mirror to start the ritual of pore excavating.  Sometimes this involves using your tongue or face muscles to stretch out facial areas thereby uncovering even more hidden clogged pores.  This act is never pre-meditated, but almost always a "fly by" decision as you finish brushing your teeth.  Smiling really big in the mirror to be sure your teeth are EXTRA sparkly clean, something catches your eye.  You stretch out your chin and (GASP!) expose fifty hidden clogged pores.  Now you are determined to clean house.  Using techniques your grandmother has passed down from her grandmother's grandmother (and so on), you carefully perform surgery.

Once complete, and feeling quite good about the money you just saved yourself from not having to get a facial, your productive feeling suffers a brief pause.  Wait, maybe there is more to this one clog?  This clogged pore is like that toilet clog that your four year old caused by using a full roll of TP in her "wiping" escapade.  After an hour of seriously working your arm in a tug of war with the plunger and toilet, it notoriously fools you it's now clear, but then mysteriously comes back to a state of full clog instantaneously.  Tricky clogged pore is very much the same.  Gentle pressure techniques seem to work, and you're about to turn away, when you try again for giggles... and there's more in there?  WHAM!  In a flash you are transported back in time to the day you got your hands on the soft serve ice cream dispenser and with wondering eyes whirled the soft ooze to your hearts delight.  Out of sheer amazement that your pore can hold that much in, you try again... MORE?!?!  It's like a treasure hunt now, and you're addicted with each pore gem that is revealed.  Herein lies the onset of the downward pore unclogging spiral.  Once your addicted - you can't stop.  You would willingly run through a thorn bush and bathe in boiling lemon juice before you would stop pecking at your face.  What started as a gentle pressure, worsened to a squeeze, and quickly escalated to a full on flesh scraping facial with a vice-like grip from a bad horror film. Apparently stabbing and slicing off your face with your finger nail is more efficient than a clay and avocado mask.



At the end of this downward spiral you are left broken and appalled at your own grotesque, red, swollen, and pocked reflection.  Crescent moon slice marks all over your face, open bleeding crater holes where there was nothing before, and a serious acknowledgment that you need to find a hobby. 

5-0, 5-0!!!

WARNING!!!  WARNING!!!
OBSCENITY POLICE!!!  
AVERT YOUR EYES IMMEDIATELY!!!


Sorry folks, the obscenity police have viewed the site and have deemed it beyond PG-13.   It's no longer advised, overlooked nor acceptable for me to use anything verbally obscene or indiscriminate in any posts moving forward.  Although it's extremely funny to me, I am apparently offending some, and that was never really my intention... so I'll have to find more "creative" ways of expressing my blog writing.  If you noticed these words in my posts and were offended, then my apologies.   They've already been updated to a more "user-friendly" version, and you will no longer see any expletives (outside of a few suggestively placed things that insinuate that word is there for dramatic effect).

Ahhh... it was fun while it lasted.  *Clink-clink* here's to the potty mouth comedians out there... I'll always light a candle for you.

Thank you, thank you.. really you're too kind.  I'll be here all week.
Try the chicken piccata.  Or the crow... the crow is FABULOUS.
For dessert you can try the humble pie.  The crust just melts in your mouth ever so gently... like censorship - er - butter. 


You can wash it all down with a large glass of shut the hell up.
That is my favorite drink... really wets the whistle and hits the spot.
Peace.