Beards (and looking like people from movies)

A guest post by Andrew W Harper

Well so much for the arts career for this year. I've done my dash there. Hey, it was a pile of fun and I loved it, exasperating as it could be but it's got to be one of the worst paid six months of not-on-the-dole ever. I mean I was on the dole in case things didn't work out and I put form in at a certain point – really late most of the time because I'd developed a total an complete aversion to the actual office anyway, and it seemed so bloody pointless because I was getting just enough pay to not earn anything, but it was a contract that would run out that would be bloody that  so I couldn't really tell them to forget it al and forget me , although it went on long enough for me to actually get the boot and have to-reapply, just before the contract ran out, so my reward for honestly reporting my income turned out to be another bloody dole diary, which would have driven me to drink had not the pub been my office anyway.

I like the pub though. I go there and read crappy nerdy horror and science fiction novels, despite my acclaimed pretensions of being a literary wanker and despite music being played there. I do listen to music sometimes but when you've just been teaching YOUTH a special course and you want to wind down with a pint and a selection of short stories about Cthulhu eating the entire population of the planet in 2012, you don't want to here this week's generic shite 80s retro synth band. Is it still retre 80s synth? Or is it something else now? It changes so bloody fast that I can't even pretend not to to keep up, it's too rapid to even notice that I'm not noticing. I mean sure, things have sped up and the kids are still in the know, but there's GOT to be a direct correlation between the consumption of energy drinks and the ability to keep up with whatever trend currently exists, although I did drink a lot of vodka and red bull on Saturday just gone. Unsatisfying stuff, Vodka and red bull – I don't feel like I've drunk anything. I want red stains on my lips and the scent of hops in my far too voluminous beard.
I have a beard you know. It's excellent. I get beard envy from men and mysterious young women 
sk if it's soft or hard – really, this is totally true, I was sitting outside a nice Hobart waterfront bar and this nice young lady asked if it was soft or hard. My Beard. Then asked for permission to stroke it. My wife was sitting right there and thought it was bloody hilarious so permission was granted and yes, my beard was stroked and you know what happened?

The whole moment was bloody ruined when the nice young lady said I looked like the bloke from The Hangover.


That's the worst thing about the beard. Who do I look like. Everyone has to tell me I look like someone. I've had harry Butler, Charles Manson, Jim Morrison but by far, more than any other single beard comparison I've had, I've been compared to the guy out of The Hangover.

This would be great but I'm the only one who knows his name. What's more, I can PRONOUNCE IT.  The bloke from The Hangover is called Zach Galifianakis. Galifianakis is pronounced “GAL-i-fə-NAK-iss” and I have NEVER SEEN THE HANGOVER.

I'm told it's good but just because I have now had over a dozen strange women and some even stranger men, compare me to Zach  Galifianakis, I hate the film, and this is totally stupid and I know that, but I was already a fan of Zach  Galifianakis because I'm a pathetic comedy nerd who trawls youtube for interesting new comics who do interesting new comedy and I honestly thought  Galifianakis was a bloody genius, and now, he's just the from The Hangover and because I have a beard, I apparently look like him. 

Which I don't, any more than I look like Charles Manson, Jim Morrsion, Grizzly Adams or any other person in history who may have had a beard. I am tempted to shave my beard off just to make all this go away but I have to tell you, I rather like my beard, apart from the comparisons and whlist it IS now Spring ,it's still BLOOODY FREEZING in Hobart and I'm not shaving the damn thing just yet, not when I get compliments on it from guys who run piercing stores.

Anyway, I ended up getting a job in call centre for a while, to pay some bills and buy my wife a present for being a rather nice wife, and for liking my beard. It's crap work, but I can do it wearing a flanney, a Slayer T-shirt and unpolished shoes, and no one is going to tell me I sound like the guy from The Hangover.

Andrew blogs here and here  and may look vaguely like this

 But don't remind him

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