Grog Like Dice and Smiles

Work crazy. No words. Look beard. *grunt*

So...it's going well so far. Even my co-workers have stopped taunting...OOO...SQUIRREL!

MMMMM. BEEEEEEEEER.

It's beer o'clock!

That is all. You can see the beardage for yourself.

Java? Really? Crap.

Today finds me working from home, in Java, of all things. Hell.

Still...the beard, it is manly and coming in nicely.

There is also more white than I remember in it.

Hurm.

In the land of chin-dor, where the shadows lie...

You see that shadow? That's not shadow. That manhood, baby. That's grit. That's the stuff that strengthens gunfighters, keeps the commies at bay, and wins the land war in Asia. That's stubble. Glorious, rough, abrasive, itchy stubble.

And now, I need to go topple a Latin American dictator. Good day, and God Bless America.

"And all should cry, Beware! Beware! His flashing eyes, his floating hair!"

Here, you see me working inside my office deep within The Secret Lair.

Normally, I do not look like this. Kris's new toy, which he claims will guarantee him a facial hair victory, was being activated down the hall.

Personally, I have my doubts. I don't care what kind of waste the Large Hadron Collider produces, rubbing the powdery stuff on your face and standing inside one of the Tesla Mark VII Quantum Uncertainty Field Generators cannot be good for you.

This picture was taken when the Mark VIIs were fired up. Note the distortion. I'm not sure what the screaming was all about, but I've sent some minions to check it out.

As for the beard, a healthy stubble is pushing its way out, like spring flowers or zombie hands from the earth. Slow but steady; total victory is assured.

I can haz NRG? plz?

I have the fortune, or perhaps the misfortune carrying the Satanberry (the support phone) this weekend. You see me here, after having been up since 4am, freshly returned from buying Pumpkin Spice coffee from my local bagel shoppe.

There should be more stubble. After a long night (or a very early morning), I deserve more stubble.

It is finished. I am one of the Beardless. I feel a breeze on my dimpled chin.

It is unsettling.

Guy Smiley, Checking In.

I had no intention of joining up again this year. I've been here. Done this. Several times, even over the course of the last year. Note the fullness of the beard, the glory of it. This comes naturally, unlike some of these poor, poor specimens.

And yet...when I heard about the "Beards4Boobs" aspect, where we're growing beards for a purpose beyond our own amusement...well...how could I say no? I sprout hair from my chin without any effort at all year round, but making it a way to combat breast cancer is sheer genius on Bob's part.

So, yeah. I'm totally in this for the chicks. And their breasts. You got a problem with that?