This is the first entry that I wrote, and obviously decided not to use. Was that a good decision on my part? Who's to say? Well, I guess you will be the ones who say after you read it, huh? To Hell with rhetoric; am I right? Who's with me? Rebel! Fuck the man! Let's overturn the cars in the street! Set fire to the buildings they were parked in front of! Main Street is taking back Wallstreet!
What's that? Yeah, I'm coming. You all get started while I finish posting this. I'll just be a minute and then I'll catch right up, alright? Oh, shit, did you just get pepper sprayed? S.W.A.T. got here awfully fast, didn't they? They've been practicing. Samuel L. must have been on their asses about response time. You know what he says, "You're either S.W.A.T. or you're not." Judging by that gash in your skull, and the way you're being drug down the street by your leg, I'd say that they definitely are, and you definitely are not. Hey, half of your pant leg just tore off; now you look like LL Cool J. That's pretty ironic, huh, because I was just making reference to the...OH FUCK THEY ARE FIRING RUBBER BULLETS AT US! REBELLION IS A HORRIBLE IDEA! I'M POSTING THIS AND GETTING THE FUCK OUT OF DODGE!
Has body hair played a part in my life? Well, that’s a very strange question to ask someone whom you’ve just met, don’t you think? You’ve actually made me a bit uncomfortable, if I’m going to be honest. On the other hand, I find your “cut to the chase” greeting oddly refreshing, so I will play along with your creepy little game. Body hair has played more of a part of my life than words can accurately describe. However, since I am not a mime, I will try to accurately describe it using words, rather than any sort of exaggerated and/or annoying movements and face paint. What? You’d really like me to use the face paint? No, I won’t do that. Sorry.
You see, I am a trunk trimmer from way back. I’m not trying to brag here, but I know what I’m doing. I could make Sweeney Todd look like Michael J. Fox giving bowl cuts on the San Andreas Fault while using child-safe scissors; and I have. You don’t believe me? Check out the deleted scenes.
The only thing I was never quite sure of was the aptly-named “treasure trail.” Do I keep it? Do I get rid of it? Does it serve any real purpose, other than a directional tool for an extremely intoxicated woman, or a woman who miserably failed Human Anatomy 101? Rainbows lead to treasure, as well, so does that make it like a rainbow? If nice leprechauns, like on the Lucky Charms box, are associated with the colorful rainbows in the sky; what sort of leprechaun is associated with this ugly, hairy one? The leprechaun from the movie The Leprechaun? I don’t want Warwick Davis anywhere near that area of my body. No thank you, sir.
Mostly, though, I would wonder if lacking it would make me less of a man.
As I’m sure you can imagine, this inner-battle kept me torn for many-a-year. It would consume my every thought whilst I tamed my lion’s mane. One fateful afternoon, while doing just that, a gust of wind blew through my bathroom. I found that quite odd, being that the door was shut, and more so because there are no windows in that room. My pondering was cut short, however, because I quickly realized that my “shavings” had just blown all over the tile floor.
Not one to leave a mess lying around, I decided that the treasure trail debate would have to be resolved another day. There were more pressing, and curly, matters at hand. To my surprise, I found that they seemed to have collected in some sort of…pattern.
“Are those letters?” I thought to myself. “Letters strung together to make words? And are the words strung together to make a sentence? This can’t be.”
But it was. It was as if some mysterious force of an unknown origin was trying to send me a message. What was the message, you ask?
“The trail to true treasure lies within oneself.”
I’m fairly sure that whoever displayed this message for me stole it from a fortune cookie, but none-the-less, it definitely rang true. A strip of hair doesn’t make the man. If that were the case, people who have mohawks would be the cream of the crop, and they are not. In fact, they are the exact opposite of that, whatever that is. I can’t imagine there would be something worse than being something’s “cream,” but people who have mohawks pull it off seamlessly. Bravo.
No, it’s not the strip of hair on the outside that makes the man. It’s the strip of man inside the man that makes the man a man, man.
So, you asked me if body hair has played a part in my life? My response is a resounding yes. Yes, it has played a major part in my life. It taught me that you don’t need a trail to reach the treasure, of manhood, and that is the greatest booty of all.
Well, the second greatest booty of all. First would be the booty of the Anatomy 101 gal. I wonder if I still have her number.