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December 7th, 2004

...There Rust, and Let me Dye!

I guess in this era of people giving themselves Hitler moustaches and whatnot, I can't feel too absurd in my endeavors to modify this Amtrak-esque mug of mine. I dug out a box of that stuff that old men dye their grey away with so they can go troll for disproportionately young booty. Just for Men is the name, I think; I'm in the other room now. I dyed my face with this stuff many months ago, maybe a year, after coming to the realization that I have two distinct colors of facial hair. My moustache is quite blond, and the rest of my goatee is quite dark brown. Someone had the tact to even compare me to Hollywood Hogan, since I guess the color contrast is pretty strong there. Personally I didn't see what the big deal was, but Hollywood Hogan?  come on. I see Roddy Piper or Little Spike Dudley, but don't insult me here.

Anyway, I dug out the dye and put it on my face. Five minutes (!) later, I washed it off, and now once again my facial hair is homogenous, one color, one tint, eine Deutscheland. Contrary to most of the other people who dye their hair, I feel several years older than I did before. I'm definitely not planning on dyeing away my gray hairs, since I've had them since I was around 16. My mother's already begun that journey full steam ahead, and is, I reckon, oblivious to the irony when we two are seen together, and I'm the only one sporting gray.

And so here I sit with brown dye smeared around my mouth, looking like I've just felched a big cheesy butthole, with one of my natural defenses gone.  Or didn't you know that very light and very dark hair together is one of nature's ways of saying ''Don't Touch''?