Snapshot_20141226_1I am definitely not the king (or queen or prince or symbol or oh never mind) of taking pictures with my web cam.  There are those who can maneuver that web cam thingie to take top quality stuff.  Really all I wanted to do was demonstrate that there is indeed growth on my face, beard stubble type of growth, proof that I am in the midst of a brief hiatus from work.  When work is not required, shaving is not required.

K sarah sarah.

You must respond with “whatever may be, may be, you twit”.

It happens every Christmas holiday.  I fail to see the need to apply a sharp object to my face every morning, thus my weak beard gets a chance to make an appearance.  After a few days, I decide that I really like the bit of beard that is growing, enough that maybe just maybe (you twit) I might let it really grow out and keep the fuzzy gray and black covering around for a while.

Then my daughter demands that I shave.

“Dad, you look like a hobo.”

“I didn’t realize that kids your age were familiar with the word hobo.”

“Don’t change the subject.”

And I trudge to the bathroom.

“Dad, the goatee looks ridiculous.”

“I didn’t realize that kids your age were familiar with the word ridiculous.”

“I am your daughter.  I was born to recognize ridiculous every time I see my father.”

She’s my daughter.  Drat.

“The moustache is worse.”

And I trudge back to the bathroom.

She didn’t appreciate it when I raised my hand in the air and clicked my heels together.

“Mein Fuhrer, go back from whenst you came.”

Shaving the whole thing is never easy to do.  It has to be done in stages.  What took so much time and such little effort to create is hard to part with.

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