A friend has alerted me to this little gem over on Breaking News:
I hate the font they use on that website, it’s too small.
It’s about time they copped on.
How I loathe the word ‘moan’, et cetera, et cetera.
Get out of my house.
A friend has alerted me to this little gem over on Breaking News:
I hate the font they use on that website, it’s too small.
It’s about time they copped on.
How I loathe the word ‘moan’, et cetera, et cetera.
The world of Beards is a fascinating one. How does one eat spaghetti or soup without making a terrible mess? I sometimes think that I would like to grow one, but I suppose being female means that would be a bit difficult, without ingesting huge amounts of testosterone. Having a beard would come in handy those days when you just want to have an extra bit of coverage.
Beards can be very erotic, take for example Devendra Banhart and Joaquin Phoenix. Karl Marx also sported a very fashionable one in his day. I don’t like beards that are yellow from nicotine and smell like pub carpet. A moustache of some form is also essential to complete the look. Those stand alone beards can be a bit odd looking.
Companies like Gillette do not like the beard, it’s like the relationship between Sherlock Holmes and Moriarty. They are not compatible with those shiny triple quattro nucleo razors. I wonder if beards could be therapeutic for men who are going bald; while their scalp hair is rapidly diminishing, they could concentrate on their facial topiary, and perhaps in desperate times, cut off the beard and glue it to their head. Just a suggestion.
25th Hour, Edward Norton’s last really great film.
Philip Seymour Hoffman is terrific in this scene, he does weirdo like nobody else:
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