'Cause I can't, I won't, and I don't stop blogging (apoplecticfittz) wrote,
'Cause I can't, I won't, and I don't stop blogging

No Shave April: Join the Revolution

You know what? Fuck all of you. I'm serious. Deadly serious. Popely serious. Sentence fragment serious. Here's a quick history lesson for you ungrateful fuckers. No Shave April. You might remember it, if only because I wax poetic about it at least twice a day. I wear its results on my face even now. Yes, ladies and men, one year has passed since my face's journey into self-discovery through facial hair began its triumphant foray into existing through the blooming of a revolution. Wow, that sentence was uncomfortable...but I'm not editing it, I'm not shaving it! Sure, it's become a comedy halfway through...but it wasn't always fun with ironic facial hair, no sir.

No Shave April began as my way of saying, "Fuck you!" to the man. Who is this "man"? You are. And you. And you and you and you. Or so it seems. It was once the idea that we had to shave because A) our girlfriends/boyfriends don't much like us hairy; as we were intended or B) our jobs demand us to all look the same and be clean-shaven. We sure can't appear like the hairy ape or crunchy hippie they think we are anyway, now can we? I freed you from that. If for only one month. I handed you a holiday from convention. You say you want a revolution, well...that is until I give you one. To that I say:

Eat shit and die.

What does spring mean to you? The rebirth of nature out of the long slumber of winter's chill or something douche-y like that? No, it is basically the last bastion before the hot sweaty misery that is summer. It is the time for all of you who are not socially inept like myself to find love, jobs, and everything to write home about. Let me tell you, I've heard all about it. Eleven months out of the year all I hear out of you bastards is how great an idea No Shave April is...until it is April and I request you join me and like a chorus I hear..."Man, I totally would...if not for...[insert excuse here]." I heard it four times last night alone.

Now, I could understand it if you personally like your face, legs, or WHATEVER nice and smooth. No Shave April is retarded and I should be kicked in my lazy hippie face, no problem. It's not for you (even if you are missing out). But to you assholes that agree with me until it is time to put the razor down...again I say, fuck you. Is it really so hard to tell your SIG or employer or hell, society, that you are taking a month off from shaving because it fucking hurts for one and because you want a sweet beard (or for you ladies, sweet leg and arm pit hair like the feminist heroes of your youth)? No, it's not.

I think you are scared, personally. And that is weak. Guys, that is poor mensmanship. Ladies, how many times have we heard that society has an unfair standard of beauty? Well, for one month, I've given you a chance to tell society to go fuck themselves. I mean, sure, OMG hairy legs! Armpit hair! Stubble! GROSS! But you know what else? No cutting yourself. No razor burn. No shaved skin breakouts. And guys, A MOTHERFUCKING BEARD. I don't know how that doesn't convince you...

I mean, look at this:

This shit is hot.

I already have one and it's changed my life. I have more confidence. People walk up to me in the streets just to tell me what a sweet beard I have and how jealous they are that they aren't sporting said beard, even the ladies. No lie guys, I'm not bullshitting you.

I trimmed it up the other day; it's going to be a wild ride, no doubt. Before it's all over, I'll be rocking a Sam Beam...

So, join me in No Shave April...you say you want a revolution? Well, you know, together we can change the world. One hairy leg at a time.

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