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| I blogged twice. That's sad. | | |
| Ok, so I'm failing my November commitments. First, I've sucked at taking the time to invest in NaNoBloMo. I delivered one shitty post about my fat cat doing something fat and cat like. Also, I woke up this morning and decided to use my new amazing men's moisturizing shaving cream. I mean, it said it was amazing, and given the state of my elephant-hide-like skin situation, I was excited by the promise of a new me. No real improvements to report on the skin condition, as The real tragedy occurred when out of sheer habit, I took a swipe over the left side of my Movember 'stache with my razor. I tried to stop, but the damage was done. My attempts to fix it left me with what can only be described as a sickly Hitler 'stache. Facial hair and I have never been friends, really. I've got members of my family that can grow a beard during the course of a conversation. I, on the other hand, need a week to reach a stage that looks far too much like unhealthy pubes. Couple that with the inevitable skin rash that comes with, and you've got a sickly, pubey, rash-stache. So I shaved the whole damned thing off. Fortunately I have proof that a 'stache once live under my nose, because you can't shave a rash off. So, I'm starting over. I know I'm going to get shit from people at work, and I've already started pondering some lies to get them off my back: My Dr. shaved it during a serious medical emergency with my face. A situation so personal, I can't bear to share specifics. I donated it to Pubes of Love, for people who need pubes. For love. I accidentally lit it on fire while saving something precious, like a neighbor baby, or a forest animal, or an xbox, from a burning building/nursery/forest/my living room. Or maybe cake candles, you know, for my birthday you forgot to remember so replace your shit-giving with some present-giving and get the hell out of my face. None of this will work, for lots of reasons. It isn't my birthday yet, my recent, well-publicized trip to the Dr. was really about quitting smoking and plea for Xanax (scored!) and I'm sure my organization devoted to pube donation is too easily debunked. Also, the last time I was in a real forest involved communing with the redwoods in an RV filled with extracurricular inducements, a hobby I've long since given up. So, instead I'll just pull out my soapbox and loudly proclaim how inappropriate it would have been for me have sported a Hitler 'stache, and how dare they be so insensitive to suggest I even consider it. They'll still give me shit, all day long, with shame-based photoshopping and shitty office-drive-by comments and merciless meeting jibberjab, because I work with a bunch of fucking smart asses. But I am starting over, and you can support me here: http://us.movember.com/mospace/2289844/. I promise you, this time I'll grow the nastiest, porniest, pubilicious mustache Movember has ever seen. That is all, Troy | | |
| Finished out the day without a bit of inspiration for blogging, but I'm at least popping in to post something. I will say that posting from an iPad would seem easy, until you tried to edit something. In other news, I'm wondering what my cat would sound like if he could speak. By all appearances, it would be something like "Food? Food? Fucking pay attention to me! Food." Do I get Nanoblomo points for dropping the eff-bomb? I felt the need to edit this post to share that I'm eating a pot pie right now. That is all. | | |
| Crazy, I haven't logged into Xanga for years. No better time for it than now, thanks to @racheredux and NaNoBloMo, or someshit. I'll lock it all down come November, and be a proper blogger again. For a month, at least. Best, Troy | | |
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