Oliver Hardy and Charlie Chaplin and some other guy.


So, the result of the instructions to my stylist ended up like this. I’m pretty pleased with the results, even though I will now definitely need to make use of product to attempt to tame the mighty cowlick in my bangs. What worries me more is that my face is just…out there. I always had the option of hiding a bit behind the bangsy-y piece that came to my chin, but now not so much.

I should probably, at the grand old age of 35, start an actual skin regime so I am less blotchy and blackheady and flaky (all at once, usually). If only I knew how. The only thing that doesn’t seem to aggravate my skin is plain ol’ water. In winter, I use Nivea (at least at night), because it’s less flake-making, but super pore-blocking. In summer, I mix sunscreen with this light moisturizer I spent too much money on at the salon. But my face really is a mess rather often (look how blotchy it is in the photo – and that was a good day), so I might have to seek professional advice. I suppose I’ll have have to be more vigilant/attend more to my eyebrows and lady moustache (which, let’s be fair, is more of a lady goatee). And now I’ll have to go for more frequent haircuts. Wait, why was this haircut a good idea again? I’m not sure it’s gonna be a timesaver after all. And I am not going to start slapping on the, er, slap. Makeup is not really on my radar, due to the aforementioned finicky skin, especially in summer when it’s all just gonna slide off my face as I’m biking/sweating up the hill on Somerset Street.

Oh, yes, the heat. It is glorious not to have hair tickling my face when I sleep (my stylist gave me bobby pins! I haven’t owned any in years!) and the fan is on! It’s aerodynamic! It’s going to keep me cooler! It’s going to have more people (mistakenly) thinking I’m a lesbian because they have narrow-minded views of feminity! Woo!

Also yesterday, I came to realise that a lot of the garden thieving is probably the result of raccoons, after a fist-sized green tomato (on a plant in a tomato cage) disappeared without a trace. I don’t think even our evil squirrels are that nimble, but a raccoon sure as hell could be. I also spotted one of the fuckers the other morning too. I’m beginning to think that I should just razorwire the whole yard at this point.

In case y’all are wondering, I’ve started posting the more mundane and quotidien because of Richard Herring. I’m a nosy person (and have loved diary-style novels since childhood), so I started reading Bye Bye Balham (months after purchasing the e-book), a collection of his first blog posts from 2002, and find it fascinating. He’s blogged every day since. He calls his blog ‘Warming Up’ because it’s an exercise to get him writing and working even when he’s not working (much). He’s far cleverer than I am, and has a much more interesting life (from what I can seen), but I can see the merits of writing an actual diary-type thing (which I will do most days from now on, I reckon) as a daily writing exercise rather than hoping an ill-researched ‘expert’ essay or links to YouTube clips will merit me (or my twelve loyal readers) some kind of insight.

(Of course, bridging the honest-accounts-versus-private-business is tricky shit, so we’ll see how that goes.)

That having been said, here’s some his show Hitler Mustache from a couple of years ago, when he tried to reclaim a previously respectable facial hair style from its most negative association. Well, it’s obviously about more than that. This is a silly bit where he tries to explain that racists are more liberal-minded than liberals like himself about some things.

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