Ok, so I’m having lunch with a couple of guys from out of town. This is a business lunch. I’m supposed to be on my game, working, but I can’t stop staring at one of the guys across the table from me. Kids, he had the bushiest eyebrows I have ever seen. I’m talking of pair of Wilford brimley mustaches above both eyes.
Concentration was a problem. Every time he would take a bite, all I could do was picture a family of swallows nesting in his thickets popping their heads out and picking the fork clean before he could get it in his mouth. I bet if I reached up in there, I’d pull out a lost baggage claim check from his first flight back in ought seven. I giggled at one point envisioning his brows as Wonder Twins, joining forces to stamp out evil in and around this dude’s face-shape of an angry yeti, form of two yippy Lassa Apsas.
On the subject of hair and aging, everything has a purpose, something in the engineering, the grand design. If so, then why, pray tell, do males become grotesquely hairy as they get older? Does is go back to cave man days, changes in body chemistry, sheer entertainment value for others around? I’d like to know.
But maybe after lunch…
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1 comment:
don't i know it.
i'm married to "the human sweater."
he's adorable...
but he's one hairy dude.
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