The unusual suspects

With a little more planning, this could have been a good hear no evil, see no evil picture.

But it ain't.

Yup, that's a face full of hair.

Behold the brazen bushiness of the bodacious beard beside this boorish bulletin.

A breathtaking bouquet of beardly bounty has beset our bold bailiwick.

Beware ye bonny babes, lest you be bewitched — or bedeviled — by the becoming, brainy bunch of bearded boys beside these bits.

Bringing this boring bit of blogging to its barely brief, um conclusion, I bid you buh-bye.

There was not enough light in the bar to take this picture with MC Frontalot on my camera phone.
I took it anyway.

Holy cow, is it late.

The MC Frontalot show started late, ended later, and then I had to drive home from Bowling Green.

Sleeps now. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Bucking the chin up trend

So, it turns out that neck scruff and motorcycle helmet chin straps do not play nice together.

Such is my devotion to the order, however, that I have sucked it up and endured.

Relieved Bob is happy.

Not much to say. I'm pretty emotionally spent.

Here's my day 4 picture.

I are serious Bob. This are serious beard.

Rugged

Worldly

Sexy

These are but a few of the adjectives not used by my wife to describe the stunning scruff you see here.

That's the goat, not the symbol for "call me". I interrupted a shredding session to post this.

That's the very definition of bushy undergrowth right there.

Barely 48 hours in, you're looking at about an eight of an inch on average.

It can't be stopped.

Well, that's not strictly true. I mean, a simple razor stops it usually.

But not this month!

Too much flash!

Behold the stubble.

Behold also the fact that I have to stoop to get in the shot while the timer goes beep. I am too tall for my bathroom.

You have to feel badly for the competition, really. My follicles have been practicing for this for the last 20 years. Examine the high-res, if you dare. You'll notice a dramatic darkening under the chin.

That's right, gentlemen, the beard begins.

Ooh, artsy.

And so it us upon us: HoNoToGroABeMo.

Unfortunately, NaNoWriMo is also upon us, and it requires significantly more work, so I'm going to go jump on it in just a few minutes.

But I wanted to get my zero-day post in. I just had my last shave for a month. Like most of them, it's not very good. I've even had barbers comment on how tough I am to shave.

I'm looking forward to not tearing up my face with sharp metal objects. Having grown a beard once before, I know what to expect, so I don't have much in the way of worries about scratchiness or how Mrs. Bob will react.

In fact, the only reason I don't wear a beard nearly full time is that it makes my face too hot when I'm doing things athletic. And while the picture over there may seem to indicate that I don't do that very often, I play at least three serious hours of volleyball each week.

That'll wrap up this first installment. I have to go get my NaNo files ready. See you tomorrow!

How Not to Grow a Beard Month

The goal?

Simple. In thirty days, take your pretty little baby face from clean-shaven to your best approximation of that guy up there using nothing but your DNA and your not shaving.

Growing another fist under that beard should not be attempted unless you actually are Chuck Norris.

But clearly you're not, elsewise you wouldn't need to grow a beard.

You'd have been born with one.

If you'd like to participate, you don't have to do anything, but if you'd like to track your progress here on the site, you'll have to bug one of us for an invite. I'd be letting you drop raw HTML on this thing and for that, I'd have to trust you. (Or at least, be able to track you down and kill you.)