People have commented en masse that I resemble Glaswegian actor Gerard Butler.
One arvo a few weeks ago I walked out to buy juice:
Woman: “Man, did you see that guy” (to me)
Man: “What?”
W: “That guy….he looked like….oh you know…that guy….you know what I mean, ‘Spartaca’ or whatever..”
M: “Oh….Spartaca? Spaaartacaaa! Yeah… maybe you’re right”.
True, I am hairy like animal and bear some relevance to the Scotsman. Being even half- confused for a ripped Scottish lawyer known for a role as an oiled up warrior King is not a bad predicament to be in.
My beard is largely the catalyst for these generous comparisons, and has reached fairly epic lengths of late. Frothy drinks and crumbs from food struggle to wangle free from a forest of multi-coloured, borderline-public facial follicles. Thanks to the cheerleading and sanction of my Midwestern-bred girlfriend, there is no shaver in sight.
We watched ‘Urban Cowboy’ in bed last night (one of her favourites) and I have reason to believe she is stealthily transforming me into Bud Davis, the mechanical bull riding Texan played by John Travolta.
Travolta and Butler are not ugly men.
We’re heading to Minnesota to live in a cabin in the woods for a month come August and this beard will only grow in strength and might.
Here are Ten more fine reasons to keep the bad boy growin' from the Bureau of Bigger Better Beards
Posts
2 comments:
"‘Urban Cowboy’ in bed", hmm that must have been the porn version.
Good Luck in the wood cabin,...wood. :P
it is true that i in fact cannot take my eyes from your norris style growth. perhaps i'm waiting for a fist of fury to emerge at great speed...
Post a Comment