Fat Guy In A Little Beard.

Posting these pictures to make you other scruffy-looking nerf herders feel better about your playoff beards. There is no way any of the rest of you have anything worse than this mess. You should not be able to play connect the dots on a beard that is two weeks old. Do they sell Rogaine for faces? Yet, I embrace the challenge and vow to forge on. It's actually been fun to watch people shake their heads as I explain the art of the playoff beard and our particular challenge.

Speaking of the playoffs, who the hell do I root for in the Sabres-Rangers series? Rangers-long time Patrick Division rivals, Jagirl, annoying goal celebration song. Sabres- newer rival,Briere, "concept art" logo, Lindy Ruff. What a dick that Ruff is. Still angry about a late penalty that his team had to kill off, Ruff threw stuff and yelled at the officials after the game was over. Your team just went up 2-0, let it go.

A New Day.

I neither possess, nor desire to possess, a green thumb. My landscaping consists of the bare minimum of mowing and trimming the weeds. I once proposed that we pave the entire backyard. For some reason Amanda didn't think that was a good idea. Even after I told her we could paint it green. In the past, the lawn care gods have frowned upon my obvious lack of enthusiasm by making life difficult. But today they have turned their frowns upside down, easing my memories of clogged filters, unruly chokes and murky oil/fuel mix ratios.

Today, I plucked my lawnmower from winter hibernation for the first mowing of the year. We had a short talk about making this year better than last and to my surprise I think it listened. With but one pull of the cord the engine sparked to life with a bloodthirsty roar, eager to strike down millions of hapless blades of grass. We conquered the unruly lawn in record time with nary a sputter. However, like a ballplayer who hits three homers on Opening Day, I know it's a long season. There will be ups and downs, broken strings and clogged chutes, but for one day I am pleased. For today, my grass is freshly shorn and my lawnmower and I share a tenuous truce.

Razor Held Hostage Day 7:

So I have entered into this deal with Killer and Roberto to not shave our "playoff" beards until someone hoists the Stanley Cup in mid-June. I last shaved on Friday the 13th, appropriate because my fledgling beard is horrific looking. Clearly, I have missed the genetic boat-my dad could grow in seven minutes what I have grown in seven days. At this point I am more Wednesday Addams than Grizzly Adams. I have unwisely started an unnecessary beard with no definitive timetable for shaving. I am the Neocons of facial hair policy. And like my stubborn president I will not be Pelosi'd into shaving too soon.

I think we can stipulate that I am not vain. My crew cut and uniform of a t-shirt, shorts and flip-flops proves that fact. I am, however, worried about this look I'm trying to cultivate. Although, my scruff does complement my double chin and the purple circles under my eyes. I call it "convenience store clerk chic". Please say a little prayer to Chuck Norris, Patron Saint of Facial Hair so that my beard fills in and looks halfway respectable. Stay tuned, Photo to follow soon.

Hello.....Is Anybody Still Out There?

So I haven't posted in a while, laying out for a bit while real life has taken center stage. My grandfather's passing and a large work project have been the more pressing business that has made blogging secondary. I've missed some good topics-baseball's Opening Day, the start of the NHL playoffs, the Imus mess, even Killer's half-hearted attempt to grow a playoff beard. (My beard, while disastrous, is still underway.) I have some stuff on my mind to speak about; I'll get back to speed soon.