Spring Break n’ Such

I’ve been forewarned numerous times that “Facial hair isn’t as fun as you’d think…” by many who have grown them in the past and now I’m beginning to understand. The thicker my stubble becomes, the less fun shaving is. Even with shaving cream, as the blade rolls along my skin it snags on every hair now instead of just smoothly gliding along like it used to. There’s this snaggy scrrrrrrraping feeling that leaves me feeling absolutely amazed when I’m finished that it hasn’t left behind a landfill of bloody follicle tears.

A couple of times now I’ve tried to patiently let my facial scruff situation grow out to see how it goes and what it looks like, but it’s like trying to go from bald to growing one’s hair out. I go NUTS trying to grow my hair out - especially during the whole “puff stage” where I feel like a walking, talking 5’11” Q-Tip, and then crumble and cut it all off again.

This same shindig is happening in facial hair land. While I love it, it is itchy and straw-feeling. Yet, it’s equally bothersome to scrrrrrape it off. Not to mention that little bits of substances get stuck on my scruffy chin.

On an inspiring note, in the land of pubertal development I’d approximate myself at, oh, being around the typical male puberty 15-year-old-guessing-‘ish mark. I troll this Teen Beards Forum for comparative inspiration.

Currently I’m enjoying one week of blissful Spring Break. Instead of traveling off yonder to a warm beach somewhere. I’ve spent most of my time as a cowboy fighting zombies on the Xbox 360 game Red Dead Redemption: Undead Nightmare - and wouldn’t spend my Spring Break any other way!

In other news, Tranadu was a lot of fun. There wasn’t a single group rehearsal for it, so when I finally got out on stage I was entirely overwhelmed by the lights, the on-stage dancers, the roller derby girls skating around with a beach ball, and the audience. Despite rehearsing repeatedly - the second I got out there and began, I literally forgot every.single.line. Fortunately due to rehearsing like crazy, I was at least able to move my mouth to the rhythm of some rehearsed subconscious imprint wired into my brain while hoping I wouldn’t throw up right then and there.

Then again, it was called Tranadu: A Musical on Ice - and, given there was no ice, it could’ve given us all something to slip and slide around on.

My parents attended and loved it. In fact, that night my mom changed her Facebook status:
“Tranadu On Ice was great! At least the first part, excluding the real movie. Starring my son, the famous Dexter. ♥” 
I also had a number of friends show up who were willing to pay $15 to watch me suffer on a stage for 5 minutes. Supportive? Sure! Thanks everyone!


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