Complete Beardom

Hm, this title could be read two ways: bear-dom, or beard-om... The latter is more appropriate and the obvious choice, but I just wanted to make 100% sure that the people who probably [don't] read this aren't anticipating a story about bears. I'm just bored on a saturday night, when I should be studying. Before you judge me on my unstudiousness*, let me state my position. In order to get any significant studying done between the time I get home from work and the time I go to bed, I would have to deprive myself of a few hours sleep. Studying for an hour just doesn't cut it. I'm not in the zone in an hour. I'm not even close. If the zone were a destination, I'd still be on the side of a dirt road with my thumb extended, trying to hitch a ride from the first gross trucker dude that finds me attractive. Geez, what a lose lose situation. Which is why, you see, I am in no rush to reach the zone. Now, onto the reason for this entry: My beard. It's still a baby, I'll confess. It has not reached it's potential yet, or more appropriately, the potential I wish it would have. I'm not posting this in an effort to brag, as you can probably tell my fuzz isn't exactly much to brag about. This is intended to live on when my beard does not. Sadly, my beard may not exist for much longer. I've been surprised at the result though. The concensus seems about 50/50 in the beard popularity vote. Maybe I could just keep half of it?

You'll notice that the picture is a tad small. Apparently, the flash snuck it's way up my nose and found some boogers to illuminate. I also apparently need a haircut. Maybe then, wheelchair bums won't run into me and call me a guitar-toting-hippie. Geez, who knew disabled people could be so bitter?