Hey man, what's on your face?

For those you who have been asking, the beard is starting to come in. It's been just about ten days, and I'm not sure whether or not I should be happy with the progress. But my face is moving past the stage where it just looks like I rubbed my cheeks with charcoal. So I think I'm happy about that.

I caught myself stroking what hair is on my face the other day while thinking, which I take as a clear sign that I'm ready to have a beard.


I'm not sure I'm going to take it to "Al Qaeda" lengths, however. For one thing, as I said last week, I'm annoyed enough by having my laptop searched at airports, so I don't think I'll agree with full body cavity exams. Secondly, after reading about ZZ Top's Billy Gibbons in this week's New Yorker, I'm pretty sure the beard's not moving far past my jawline. Why? Gibbons sips beer through a straw, so the suds won't get into his beard.

So is this worth the trouble if I have to drink beer through a straw? Would the manly points I'd earn from showing the world I have the testosterone to grow a beard automatically be lost as soon as I slid a straw into my bottle of Harp? Or would it all even out at the end?

I'm glad I have something on my face to stroke as I contemplate this.

(Image from "Get Fuzzy" © 2005 Darby Conley)