Whenever I attempt to grow facial hair, I want it to define my manliness and highlight my testosterone-laden fantasies I've hatched while confined to a soulless, windowless drone-like environment. Something that'll make people think of Captain Nemo sticking it to a giant, tentacled Kraken while screaming "I've got dinner reservations for two at 8 o'clock and I'll be damned if a slimy sea beast makes me late!"
But the reality is that between the five o'clock shadow phase and the Captain Nemo phase, there's an awkward teenage-beard/facial hair phase that makes people think of vans with tinted windows and John Waters.
Maybe if I forced my facial hair to go out and get a job it would grow up. But until then, I wait.
But the reality is that between the five o'clock shadow phase and the Captain Nemo phase, there's an awkward teenage-beard/facial hair phase that makes people think of vans with tinted windows and John Waters.
Maybe if I forced my facial hair to go out and get a job it would grow up. But until then, I wait.
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