Well, I haven't worn facial hair since high school, and typically it grows slow enough that I only shave every other day, sometimes every third day. So, what does any logical person under those circumstances do? Allows himself to get caught up in the hype of his team making the playoffs for the first time in like 85 (four) years, and asks his Twitter friends if he should grow a playoff beard. Good call, dumbass.
At any rate, I'm a man of my word. And it's been a week now which means my beard is already four times fuller than Sidney Crosby's Stanley Cup 'stache from whenever it was they won, and still a full lifetime away from being as thick as Scott Hartnell's five o'clock shadow.
|"So easy a blogger can do it"|
Speaking of small creatures, there's somebody I'd like you all to meet. I know many of you wanted to see pictures of him like a month and a half ago when I got him, but, to be honest I wanted to wait at least a few weeks to make sure I didn't kill the damn thing. Had that happened I would've pretended he never existed and acted like you all are crazy. Without further ado, I introduce you to Newt Thompson.
It's playoff time, and we're playing my most favorite team ever in the first round. I'll have plenty of new stuff the next couple weeks, promise.