THE CHOPS ARE GONE

I'm regretting to inform the 16 year old grocery sacker who, out of adoration for the fanciest chops this side of the Mississippi said, "Love the chops, dude. I was just admiring them," that I finally knocked 'em down to a sportier and speedier model. Not before, however, we logged them and submitted them for the USA Beard Team's consideration (Jacko) in the Sideburns Division. They were getting to the length that they could be braided which is pretty thick. I fluffed them in the sunlight the other day and my lovely wife claimed that "all kinds of stuff flew out of them." I was betting it just to be a little West Texas dust, but you never know what mite might have been nesting in there.

So we shaved them down and shaped them into a sharp blade design--a look I'm not really fond of. It's a little more "boyband" that I usually wear them, but we'll see. Not that I have ever likened my burns to that of pansy Jason Priestly, but in my semi-weekly search for images of Jason Priestly to use in an upcoming collage I'm working on to honor his acting career, I came across this look which, minus the moronic looking goatee (which I would contend that almost all goatee's a slightly moronic--c'mon, it's like a "mini-beard"). Anyhow, this is the blade look. Mine are better, though. Jason, you're just played, son.
Mondays are freaking awesome. At least the coffee's good this morning.