See, the conversation at work was about beards. I shave every other night, mainly because a) electric razors do jack shit for me and b) if I shaved every night I'd have bled my life away before now. On the morning after, I have what most people would consider a day's stubble, a five-o-clock shadow stretched through to midnight. The day after that it looks like I've not shaved for three days. I have tried electric razors. Because of the uneven and generally odd layout of my chin the best razor leaves me in need of a good shave. Of course, the layout of my face is such that I get enough cuts and miscellaneous crap that shaving twice in a row is a Bad Idea. Hell, shaving every other night is bad enough on my face.
See, this makes me an anomaly: A guy who is honestly thankful for the advances of Gilette and colleagues have made in the arena of the razor. Other men may use a Sensor Excel with a touch of secret shame that they disguise by knowing that they could bic it if they had to. Not I. I tried tonight. Fuck me, my face is one of those weird ones that even the finest bic will shred in seconds.
Thus, I figure Nature meant me to wear a beard. And I keep meaning to grow one, if only I could get away with a full beard. I'm sure that were I born in history I would have a full face of beard by now, long on the way to being a long-haired, long bearded scholar constantly picking bits of his dinner out of his beard.
This has been a completely pointless update.