My beard has been getting me a lot of attention from some creepy folks (men *and* women, but mostly men) in bars lately. That, and I’ve never really appreciated the “beards make you manly” line of humor that has intensified quite a bit lately. First of all, being tough doesn’t have to take being male. And secondly, a person is tough by their actions, not by their facial hair. But I digress.
People ask me, “why do you do that with your beard? I wish I [could do/could get away with doing] that.” And they miss the point entirely.
I didn’t do it. The beard exists completely from my lack of doing anything. It is a symbol of my laziness with regards to things that I don’t deem important. Shaving it all the time gets really freaking expensive, especially for something I just don’t really want to do. It’d be like if you had to pay $100 a month to have the privilege of making your bed every day. You’d just stop making your bed.
And I’ve worked in a lot of offices and I’ve had beards—in various states of kempt and unkempt—in all of them. Occasionally, bosses would say something about “what’s with the beard?” but as long as I did my normal thing of ignoring them and doing whatever the hell I pleased, it was fine, it never got mentioned again.
So don’t envy me because I can grow a giant beard. I envy you for not having to shave every 12 hours. Don’t envy me for some power or privilege that I have to be allowed to grow a beard: you actually have that permission as well, because you’re a god damn adult and you can do whatever the hell you please.
Please stop buying me drinks and then complaining that I don’t drink a “real beer” like your “Miller Lite” or “PBR”. Beer is meant to have flavor, and that flavor should be more than just “aluminum can”. And you shouldn’t act all surprised when I take my whiskey neat. I mean, have you seen this beard? But seriously, the way I drink liquor isn’t a sign of how badass I am, it’s a sign of how weak you are.
And for the love of god, please stop asking to touch my beard. While licking your lips at me. My wife is right next to me. She can see you. And you’re creeping me out. Go away.
Finally managed to get my Grumpy Beard videos arranged in a chronological order that you can watch straight-through:
There were a lot of these buggers. At least a dozen in view at any one time.
ERMAHGERD!! Galapagos Turtle! Incidentally, Galapagos means “giant turtles”. Thank a Spanish bishop who couldn’t figure out what to call the place back in the 1530s.
ARR ARRRR AR ARRRR! Baby sea lion! These guys were so freaking cute. We were lucky to be there just after the birthing season, so there were quite a few sea lion pups that were only a few weeks old.
Sunset from our boat at Puerto Baquerizo Moreno on San Cristóbal in the Galapagos Islands.
A male frigatebird. They were quite keen on getting themselves wedged into the draft of our ship while we were traveling between islands. They would hover above the ship, not flapping their wings for miles, doing tricks for us.
Galapagos Mocking Birds in the wild. These were very silly birds who had not yet learned the trick of flying away from humans when we get close.
Virgin of El Panecillo atop Quito, Equador. At 9,895 feet above sea level (i.e. only two football fields short of two miles high), I nearly passed out. I got dizzy and started seeing stars. The air density in Quito itself was mostly fine (a slow, half-mile walk through the park made me feel like we had hard-ran 3 miles, complete with sore muscles), but this particular hill was another 545 feet higher up than the rest of the city.
One of the things I bought in Ecuador.
Ecuador and the Galapagos Islands were beautiful. Plenty of pictures to come in the near future.