Give til it hurts

It's time to give a plug to my blogging pal, Nurse Dave. He is getting ready to head down to Haiti and volunteer at a clinic. When he goes down, he tries to bring medical supplies that are needed. Such exotic things as aspirin, band-aids, peroxide, etc.

Yeah, things are really that bad and no, these things are not readily available.

Why don't you click on the link, go visit Dave and click on the Tilory Clinic donation link and send a little love Dave's way.

Safety First!

Over the past 35 years, I have pretty consistently had some form of facial hair. Shaving off the Santa beard earlier this year was pretty traumatic and it took me a while to decide what to do about the situation. Eventually, razor burn on my chin solved the problem for me and I grew in a goatee for a while. However, I wasn't feeling it, so I decided to return to my ground state, which is the mustache.

I had decided on the porn-stache. For one thing, I have the facial hair for it and also it is one of those styles that seem to rub the uptight the wrong way.

Having come of age in the 70's, facial hair was a lot more popular and more key to your social and sex life. Like most fads, it was pretty much mandatory. At the time, if memory serves, you were in danger of losing your gay card if you didn't have some form of face fur.

I really couldn't say when the tide began to turn and "confrérie barbue" started to shave. Eventually, it started to seem like every gay man on the planet, shaved, waxed and plucked, with the exception of old stalwarts like me who then had to listen to remarks about how ugly facial hair is.

I am told that the young hipsters are now going for 70's style facial hair. The important thing it would seem, is to do this ironically. HTF do you get ironic facial hair?

I was having my morning coffee with Monkey the other morning and we started talking about hair. Among other things, body hair and our childhood reaction to it. He was anti, while I remember at the age of 6 watching Hugh O'Brian on "Wyatt Earp" and even then I was all for hairy chests. I mentioned that when I first came out, chest hair was a definite requirement for sex. Though, I shortly branched out after discovering that I was a slut. I relaxed my standards to the point where I would be simply looking for a pulse.

This discussion of childhood fascination with hair continued and we got on the topic of hair cuts. Specifically, we were talking about the universal, self inflicted childhood haircut. You know. When your mom left some scissors lying around and it seemed like a good idea to give yourself a trim.

Monkey remembered cutting his own hair and then told me about how his sister decided to chop off all her hair at the age of 4. The day she was suppose to be the flower girl at her aunt's wedding. It was a pretty funny story. Needless to say, his aunt had a bird.

Eventually, the conversation drifted over to adult hair issues. The fact that Monkey's beard is as sparse as his father's was and that I on the other hand have to do some serious maintenance on the old topiary. So I asked him what he thought of my new mustache. I have heard the style referred to as a porn-stache a term which, I have to say, I have a liking for.

Monkey: I like the way the mutton chops came in on the side.

Me: Oh. The testicle pads?

Monkey: Waaaa?

Me: Yeah, testicle pads. Hey, if you're going to give mustache rides, you have to think about safety and comfort.

Monkey: So, your face is ergonomic.

Me: Safety first.

Monkey: This is such a Friday conversation.

Me: Yeah. The best part is, now I have something to write about on my blog.