For my beard, wherever I may find him

About three weeks ago, I parted ways with the beard that has called my face home since the beginning of my senior year of high school.

I miss Beardy, but his replacements Mutton and Chop are filling in the void quite nicely. Goatee also makes a special guest appearance on my mug from time to time.

That said, I think I have some things to say to an old friend:

Dear Beard,

Beardy, I hope you don’t take this personally or anything. I mean, you’re a great individual. I really mean that. It’s just that I think the follicles of our lives have grown in their own separate ways. I’m sure that soon enough, you will migrate to another guy’s face and forget all about me. You’ll be happier then, I promise.

And it could be that my newfound fling with Mutton, Chop, and the Goat is just a feeble attempt to spice up my facial hair’s otherwise mundane existence. Heck, this could be good for us, you know? I mean, I might find that the female attraction I garner from my new setup is infinitely less than what you’ve gotten me in the past (is that possible?).

But I digress. Beardy, if I ever grow (no pun intended) tired of what I’ve found in your replacements, I’ll let you know. And I will be glad to have you back.

I hope we can still be friends,
Casey

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Rays lose, but I've won big time

Trust me when I say that I hate getting like this. Tonight, I got into sort of a pensive mood; a thoughtful funk, if you will. Between watching the Rays get slaughtered, feeling badly for some friends who are pretty blue, and this pounding headache, one of my best pals gave me this fantastic tidbit of wisdom.

Cherish your friends.

And I do.

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