It all began way, way back in the early a.m. of October the 31st, with boys and girls still safe in their beds, dreaming of all the glorious face paint required for their respective Mikhail Gorbachev and Mystique costumes. Pumpkins were carved, candy dishes with stocked, and the tramps had hunted down their sexy meter maid outfits. It was Halloween as usual.
Except for me. You see, in years past, I found only too late that I wished I had a mountain of facial hair to play with if needed for a costume. You can’t decide to be a convincing Magnum P.I. if you start the growing on United Nations Day (hint: October 24th). You’ve got to be shunning the Norelco at least from German Unity Day (hint: October 3rd)! So, I abandoned all razoring, shelved the Old Spice and let the hirsuteness free.
Total beard growth, just in case. I mean, why not? The options are awesome with the woolly cheek blanket stretching ear-to-ear. Do I go as the greatest drunk president in history, Ulysses S. Grant? Tap into my inner poet as Alan Ginsberg? Roll out the Hagrid?! As of Tuesday, I was still very excited at the prospects. Continue reading