After the Banzai Beard Bonanza: The Night in Question
Wow, after lo these many months it's heard to believe that my face really was under there the whole time. Right now, it's weird, but at the same time it's nice to have my face back. Hacking through the beard hairs was like using a machette to chop your way through the jungle, or so I'd imagine, having never actually been to the jungle. First, I chopped out my sideburns, with further sculping and refining to come tomrrow. Then, I did away with the neckneard, but left the goatee in place; as I suspected, I looked like every other toolbox twenty-something jerk with a goatee. No, thank you. This left only the imperial and the mustache. The imperial was trimmed and tamed, and won't be the way I want it for a couple weeks, but that's okay. The 'stache was even more ridiculous than I'd imagined. It was hilarious. It was scary how much I looked like my dad, though. It occurs to me that I may not know what his face looks like, all I see are a mustache and bifocals. So, now I'm basically back to myself. This will take a little getting used to.

The Pleasure of My Company
Except for shaving, which was kind of awful because it was a lot more work than I'd thought it would be, my whole evening was awful. Between my mom's atrocious friend and the opera, I would have rather been doing just about anything else, maybe even watching a Julia Roberts movie. Well, maybe that's a little harsh, but it was still a crappy evening.

Hey Julie
I'm listening to Fountains of Wayne's "Hey Julie." The problem is that I don't have someone like that around. I'll never make it through without her around.