No-shave November

I decided to grow out a beard again this year.  There are no girls involved this time (as suggested in some of my previous posts), but I liked it last year.  So I went ahead and started No-shave November early, mostly out of laziness.  It has been about three weeks, and it’s starting to look decent.  However, I still have the problem of poor coverage on the sides, and have thus been keeping it trimmed down to a goatee.

My goatee is getting to the point where I could think about styling it if I was feeling crazy.  Maybe I could grow my mustache so it sticks out straight to the sides, and then have a big curl on my chin.

Heck, why should I stop there?  I could take to wearing a monocle and bowler hat, and start tying innocent, young women to railroad tracks.

But then I would need a friend with a chiseled jaw and cleft chin to interfere, standing akimbo, saying, “Unhand her, Dan Backslide!”

Then I could respond, pointing out something in the distance, “You’re too late, Eric Sideiron!  The train is almost here!!”  HAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!”

And then he runs up and punches me; my monocle and hat go flying as I fly back dramatically while Eric produces an over-sized knife to cut the ropes binding the girl (named Dawn Goodman), and pulls her to safety just as the train passes.  But he and I are on opposite sides of the tracks, and I quickly grab the last car as it goes by, and then shake my fist angrily at him shouting, “You’ve thwarted me THIS time, Eric, but I'll be back, and THEN you’ll be sorry!!  AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA…!!!”

As I fade into the distance, Dawn swoons into his arms, saying, “Oh, whatever will we do, Eric?”

Eric replies firmly, “Don’t worry, Dawn.  If he comes back, I'll be ready for him.”

They climb onto his horse (which was waiting there the whole time) to ride back to town, the orchestra swells into the final chords, and the words “The End” scrawl neatly across the screen just before fadeout.

And THAT would be my idea for a movie!

Chronically Single…? Mk II

Those of you, my loyal readers (I am, obviously, referring to nobody here) may remember my original post titled “Chronically Single…?”.  In it, I described an incident in which I finally worked up the courage to ask a certain girl on a date, only to be turned down because I waited too long to ask (that, at least, was what I knew the reason to be).  Toward the end, I made reference to the fact that I had my eyes on another girl as well, and that “this wolf was still on the prowl”.  Well the wolf finally caught up with his prey… the “other girl”…

She came into the restaurant where I work yesterday; it was a rather slow day on account of rain and general drear, and I happened to be the one to respond to the doorbell.  Now, it should be noted here that my manager is what you might call a “cock-block”, which is anyone who prevents someone else (generally a male [a rooster, if you will]) from hitting on someone he finds attractive (or, the hen of his choice).  And the worst part is that she doesn’t even notice she does it!  I pointed it out to her a month ago when she slipped into the way just as I was about to ask out this particular girl.  I’m sure you can imagine how that made me feel…

That was not going to happen this time…  As I was washing my hands, I shot to my boss a dirty look, and said significantly, “That’s her, by the way.”  I then went about making the girl’s sandwich, all the while attempting to take the advice printed in large, friendly letters on the cover of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (for anyone not so literarily inclined, it says, “Don’t Panic”).  I finished the sandwich, and moved over to the register (this being the most nail-biting bit, as this is where my manager generally managed to interrupt) where I rang up the order.

When I had finalised the order, I gave a moment’s pause, and then began, “I was wondering…”

She regarded me with polite interest.

I continued, “… if you’re not busy later, would you like to go get a coffee with me?”  I didn’t believe it myself, as I don’t drink coffee.  The readers who know me personally can attest that the last thing I need is coffee…

The girl’s mouth tightened briefly before returning to normal, and she answered in a plain, though in no way unkind voice, “I have a boyfriend.”

Her words echoed around in my suddenly empty mind, followed briefly by my own internal voice from somewhere in the distance, speaking very unfeelingly, though in no uncertain terms…

“… bugger…”

“Ah,” I heard myself say in an understanding way.  It occurred to me that, somehow, my schmooze had not been broken, and was running without my brain.

The situation had become very dangerous.

I vaguely heard her go on after the slightest of pauses, “… He probably wouldn’t like that.”

Quickly, I tried to recover my faculties before my schmooze could say something along the lines of, “Ha!  Like that’s ever stopped me…”  I managed it, and said, in a jokingly reluctant tone, “Yeeaaahh, I guess he wouldn’t.”

As I began moving away to clean things up on the counter, she said, “Um, cup…?”

I had forgotten to give her a drink cup.  Resuming my usual manner for joking heartily with customers, I said, “Pfsha!  Details, details…” and handed her a drink cup.  The girl gave a small chuckle, and went to fill the cup.

She left shortly thereafter, and I numbly finished cleaning up the front area and moved to get some things from the back area.  As I passed my boss, she asked, “Sooo, did you ask her out?”

I said blankly, “Yep.”

My manager persisted, “And she said…?”

“Has a boyfriend,” I answered, and then lightly added, “Oh, well,” though that is certainly not what I was feeling at the time.

Some questions arise from this situation that I have yet to answer:
1.  Did I misinterpret her to be flirting the last time I saw her (over a month ago)?
2.  Is this just another case of me waiting too long to ask (like the last girl)?
3.  Is it bad that, when left unattended, my schmooze starts acting like Johnny Bravo?

Some mysteries can never be solved……

What Makes a Blog Post?

It has recently occurred to me that it's been over a month since I last made a post, and figured it was past time to do that.  Unfortunately, the thing I wanted to post on (i.e. the thing most on my mind at present) will take some (more) time to complete.  So I think I'll just say that it's in the works and ramble on a little bit more so maybe and perhaps you won't feel like your time was wasted for looking at this post that is not truly a post.

 But now that I think about it, what makes a blog post?  On the Blogoshpere, it could be some kind of heart-felt work of semi-literature carefully constructed to convince a madly busy world that your life was not vain, for this, yes, this thing is something you created, bearing a part of your soul amid the relentless bustle of our near mindless, post-industrial society.  But most of the time, it's a cacophonous admixture of flagrant plagiarism, raving lunacy, random things you took pictures of, and rants about how awesome/horrible Justin Bieber is to no one in particular.

How, then, can I say that this post is not truly a post?  I know not, as it seems to fit some of the above criteria.  All I can say is that there are better things we could all be doing instead of paying so much attention to useless crap on the internet.

But, what do I know?

... Winter is coming...