Find Good

Eyes.
Teeth.
Hair.
Body.

These, and not in that order (they arrange differently depending on the person), are the most difficult parts of our lives to attend, and what I mean is finding a good optometrist, a good dentist, a good hairdresser/stylist/barber and a good doctor are things that often plague us to the point where a few bad experiences will put us off them for a very long time, perhaps even beyond the point at which we find them necessary.

the eyes

I found my eye doctor in Toronto relatively quickly, and have been exceptionally happy with him for the past 6 years. He's friendly and always reassuring, and he exudes confidence without any sense of arrogance or pretension. My optometrist in Thunder Bay was kind of an a-hole, and I stopped going to him after he started ripping me and my dad off for my contact lenses ($75 dispensing fee my ass). For a while, maybe 3 years, I was just picking up contact lenses at various optometry centers, in Wal-Marts or Costco. It wasn't until I moved to Toronto and found Dr. Leung that I even felt comfortable getting new glasses or seriously contemplating laser eye surgery. After this happened Dr. Leung eventually convinced me that laser surgery would be a drastic improvement on my life, and, over two years after, it still ranks in the top 3 of best decisions I ever made. Dr. Leung rocks.

I have a friend who hates having anything done to her eyes... no eyedrops, no puff of air glaucoma tests, no bright lights. She literally hates the whole procedure. I worry Aden's wee one (who's currently down with another eye infection, a throat infection and a gnarly 2-week-old cough) is going to have the same reaction in later years, since there are screams bloody murder any time Aden needs to put eye drops in. The little one also has a hyperactive response to bright lights, sunlight especially. But putting anything near the eyes, or if water gets in them, watch out. This kid needs to have swimming lessons and learn some head dunking and a bit of the chlorine sting to toughen them up a little. Worked for me. I had no problem sticking my finger in my eye daily when dropping contacts in.

the head

Meanwhile, my childhood trauma means I hate getting my hair cut. It's one of the things from my younger years that still sticks with me, and I hated going. I remember being around 5-years-old and my dad promised to buy me a X-Wing Fighter (well, maybe not specifically that, but that's what I had in mind) if I went to the barber shop, and I sat through that haircut, hating every minute of it. And did I ever get that X-Wing. I say thee nay.

As a pre-teen I was awkward, monstrous 80's glasses hiding half my face, absurd 80's long-bangs or other "trendy" hairstyles done less for fashion (which I had nary a clue about until, maybe 5 years ago, and still am somewhat iffy on) and more for lack of haircut desire. I had for the longest time a side-part with the most absurd of cow-licks which would flap in the wind and drive me crazy (one point in grade 11, I grabbed hold of that cow-lick and snipped it off, leaving a semi-bald patch amidst my long hair). When I was a teen I was even more awkward, sporting a middle part throughout much of high school and at one point allowing my sister to butcher my head, which is captured for all eternity in my grade 11 school photo.

I used to go to the barber in County Fair Plaza in Thunder Bay, a place run and patronized mostly by old Italian men. The only haircut they were good at was a buzz and/or brush cut, anything else was asking too much of them. Then one day they got an honest-to-gosh hairdresser in there, a guy who could actually cut and shape and style. Sure he would lean into you awkwardly while cutting your hair but the price you pay for something decent done to your follicles. He wasn't ever really around much though, and when I finally steel myself up to getting a haircut, well, I go right then and there with no delay and get it done with, otherwise it'll be a few more months before I get back the resolve to do anything about my mane.

Since moving to Toronto I've had a bit of an adventure in hairstyle. For the first year I decided to try out one or two of the hairdressers on Roncesvalles near home, but I was really not satisfied with either cut, having to actually fix up one haircut myself at home. My home-brew actually turned out pretty nice, and so I wound up buying myself a hair cutting kit, including shears and proper scissors. I clipped myself a couple of times, once really nicely, twice kind of disastrously. Eventually, I took to shearing my head down to stubble (actually it was within the second month of blogging) which I enjoyed doing for quite some time... but I got tired of it after about two years and sought out a hairdresser, finding a new place to get it cut and eventually the best hairdresser I ever had.
I never knew his name.
And his salon closed unexpectedly.
And I couldn't find him again.

I only ever had three haircuts from him, but I loved every one, even at +$40 it was so totally worth it each time, even if I didn't like it initially, it always looked good a few days and weeks later. I could trust him to know what he was doing and to do something interesting to my head. After the unexpected end of that relationship, I started doing my hair myself again, manifesting itself as the "Diabolik" cut... which I loved, but found very difficult to sustain without frequent clipping.

After the shear-n-beard growing experiment of 2006, I finally found a place to call hairhome in the Terminal Barber Shop. I've been there three times, they treat me well, they cut my hair pretty nicely (even if I can't really trust them to do anything creative), and they can work a mean straight razor. They take the time to give a good cut, which I appreciate. And it's not exactly 40 bones either.

the mowf

Oooh, I don't like me some dentists. I don't hate the dentist since I've become pretty numb to the shock and pain of oral treatments, but a gentle dentist makes all the difference. Had a great dentist, Dr. Robertson (?) growing up, and he was fantastic with a great staff of hygienists and
receptionists, lots of toys in the office and mom would always take me to Bourqs Drug Mart in Victoriaville after for a toy. It made it quite easy on me. I always hated the fluoride treatments though... they made me gag like nobodys business, especially when they'd stick the goo inside the rubber teeth and pop those in your mouth with the suction thing between them and a drool tray below your chin. I was a mess of slobber and tears every time. God I hated that.

I didn't have any problems with my teeth, no caveties, until I was a teen and my molars grew in. Deep pits mean I couldn't properly clean them out with a tooth brush and cavities formed. Oh well, not my fault. I sort of stopped going to the dentist in University, except one time to get my wisdom teeth checked out (and subsequently extracted). I even chipped a tooth once post-university and never did get my mouth checked out in case something was seriously wrong.

I think I went through a six-year (more?) span between 1998 and 2004 before I went to the dentist again, this time finally choosing one at random near my house on Roncey. The hygienist was pretty cool, but the dentist was awful, with no chairside manner, and getting the cavity filled in that I had was a horrendous experience. I didn't go back, even when they called me for my scheduled check-up. I told them I'd call back. I even got a Christmas card one year from him, but ugh... i wasn't going back there.

It was Aden prodding me about getting my teeth cleaned and checked up (she's a religious every-6-months-er) that I finally asked about her dentist. She likes her dentist, whose receptionist also happens to be her mother's best friend. Her dentist's daughter is also a dentist who looks after the wee one's teeth (with nary a complaint)... so I inquired a little more and finally had my first check-up in over two years.

The hygienist was utterly cordial, and then I had the full x-ray and thorough inspection done by Dr. Z, and damn was she thorough. And fun. I can't say I've ever had fun at the dentist but Dr. Z is so bright, cheerful and a bubbly personality that she seems genuinely excited about teeth and oral health care. She had nothing but positive things to say about my teeth and gums and general mouth health (although the typical "floss more" did come up) even though two minuscule cavities popped up on the X-rays. I'm going back next week to get those fixed up, but damn if I'm not actually excited to do so.

the rest'o'me

Doctors. I had a great pediatrician in Dr. Molson (whom I used to get confused with Dr. Robertson, because Molson sounds so much like "molar") who had hair in his ears, I fondly remember. Apparently I was a clumsy and frequently sick child, so I probably saw him lots before I can remember, but he treated me well.

I stayed fairly healthy throughout high school and university, missing very few days of school (although sleeping in was always a problem), I think not missing a single day between grade 9 through 11. I was proud of it at the time... Anyway, I hadn't really much need of doctors for most of my blossoming life, and thus had no fixed doctor. I went to the clinic at Lakehead once for... something which I don't even recall anymore (probably skin condition), and it wasn't until Toronto that I found a doctor to, well, kind of call my own.

At my local medical center there's one doctor I prefer going to, but a couple others who are just as good (and a couple who kinda suck). I've been there a lot over the past few years as my body's metabolism slows down and gets accustomed to the Big Smoke... sometimes they were fruitless visits, other times just for prescription renewals, and sometimes for things that I was a little paranoid over, and sometimes for necessary evils. I've never had a bad experience there, and I've got the place pretty figured out for wait times, and the good doctors are really good, and I've gotten comfortable with them enough as to not feel (too) awkward should they need to do anything... uncomfortable to me. Which is good. It's nice to have that covered.

otherbody

Meanwhile, my massage therapist is amazing. She's fixed me up many many times and is doing so right now. She rules, she's so damn good at what she does, and she always leaves me with helpful tips for proper stretching and means of avoiding such strains or pains in the future.

The ducks, they're in a row it seems.

If you're searching for a good Dentist, Doctor, Optician or Massage Therapist, I can direct you to some of the best people who've ever touched or looked at me in wholly inappropriate but completely medical ways.

A Close Shave

(or... Shave And A Haircut, Two T...ohmy)

Took the camping beard into the Terminal Barber Shop (Bay St @ Dundas West intersection) for a shave and decided a bit of a headge trimming was in order as well (like how I turned "hedge" into "head-ge" there? I'm special.) Before I grew a beard last time I had checked into the beauty supply store at Bay/Dundas to inquire about a straight edge razor, since my thick hair and tough beard are rather hard on disposables (I get about two good shaves out of one before I really should throw it out... I usually get four or five really rough shaves out of them after that). The man behind the counter suggested that I go into the Terminal for a pro shave and see how I react to it. Well, I basically grew the beard the first time with the intention of doing just that, but by the time I needed it to come off I just needed it off and I couldn't take it anymore... but next time for sure. I don't know why I thought I needed a full beard to go in for an old fashioned way, but sometimes I just don't understand how my brain works anyways.

Knowing the business hours were kind of tight (7:30 - 5:00 every day, with 7:30 - 4:00 Saturdays, closed Sunday) I skipped out of work earlyish and made my way up. The place has changed somewhat since I last passed by (Delineated has a nice shot of the old look), and it turns out it's because they're expanding, looking to hire additional barbers to help meet demand. The place is quite busy, with only two barbers to serve, I arrived at 4:40 and was fifth in line, with more people poking their head in the door. My wait was about 45 minutes before sitting into one of their newly acquired vintage barber's chairs (so ornate and comfortable...).

Karim and Omar bought the Terminal BS (heh) back in May of 2005 after moving here from Belgrade, Serbia. Karim is the more outgoing of the two, and he creates a really old-world atmosphere in the shop, one that's focused on customer service and establishing a raport with the clietele. He took steps to learn my name and use it to remember it, and that's just the kind of added touch you don't often get in this in-and-out consumerist society. Though I originally just wanted a shave, I figured my shag was due for a cut and asked Kumar to clean up the back and sides. He asked if I liked the sides billowy, and I really wasn't sure how to answer that, so he just said "Let me fix it to someting that suits your profile" with such confidence that I couldn't help but let him, and you know, ten minutes later he had crafted my hair to almost exactly what I wanted without me saying a word. He even thinned out the top which I love and few barbers ever know how to do. The man's a genius.

Switching chairs, he turned me over to Omar for the shave. I reclined back, and Omar put a towel under my neck, rubbed a thin layer of moisturizing creme into my beard, then wrapped a hot towel on my face. Oh bliss. Then he lathered me up and started the shave. My beard, well, as I said, it's a tough beard. After a few minutes Omar had to wipe me down and bust out the clippers, because it just wasn't working that easily. I don't have overly sensitive skin, but my "Van Gough" area (around the lips and chin) are quite sensitive, and the razor felt like it was pulling the hairs rather than cutting. I fought back the tears, and had to stifle the laughing. I also had to relax, but when you look down at a straight edge, often approaching your eyeball (ugh), well, it is a little pulse-pounding. Omar went through the moisturizing phase three times, and used three different edges to trim down my beard and stubble. The man, let me tell you, has the hands of a surgeon, and he has given me the closest shave I've had since my peach fuzz days.

I can't say that it wasn't a painful experience, but at the same time, I didn't bring them the best of conditions... a 12-day old beard, dried out from a camping weekend in the sun, and a short failure to communicate my sensitive chin were all factors. I'll try it again some day with only four days stubble and see how that works out for me. Meanwhile, Omar said I was going to be good without shaving for three or four days, but he doesn't know me very well. While I didn't need to shave this morning, by tomorrow I'll need to again, but likely leave it until Monday.

speaking of hair

More Hairspray movie set photos on my flickr account

uhoh

I'm not looking forward to the day when I have to pay $6 to get my eyebrows cut. I'm fairly sure that day will come, though.

Knob

Because I've been a bit of a dick recently, when Toast posted this introspective and somewhat disarming comment on his current status of being all I could do was make a tired old "mid-life crisis" joke... to wit:

Uh oh... Toast is going to buy a convertible...

I don't actually mean to make fun of Toast's pain, but isn't this what typical guys friends are supposed to do? Aren't we supposed to just deny each other's emotions and rather start poking fun, because acknowledging emotions and showing sympathy is like a sign of being the gay or something. But then Toast and I are sensitive males, and we've had great conversations about life and everything else in the past, so we don't fall into the usual trappings of machismo and whoswhatzis. And I called him a pussy earlier this week too. It was in jest, but perhaps I'm descending into dickishness these days.

My number 1 fan wrote a lovely bit to Toast, saying all that I probably should have said, but then she also says this:

If you got a convertable, I bet Graig would grow his hair out, so that when he got rides with you, he'd have Wolverine hair in minutes flat.

Which makes me laugh... because I've had Wolverine hair. And as penance for my dickishness of late, I'm going to share that photo with you (a little humility never hurts):

Whee-yow.
Taken Halloween 2000. Those claws are made of cork, and they were rubber latexed to my hands, and they're obviously non-retractable, so when I was out I had to drive with them still attached and every time I had to turn the wheel they would snag on the dashboard... and as you may know I'm of a moderate hirsutedness, so each time those claws would snag I'd feel a sharp and painful tug on my hands.
Taking the claws off at the end of the evening... yeah... it took about three to five weeks for the hair to grow back.

Devil's Haircut

My latest facial hair configuration... anyone know what this one is called. For some reason all I can think of is Skeet Ulrich, and that's just not right. Rooms is trying to convince me to do Guy Fawkes next...

Hmmm..
...

Also the flippy hair thing.. that's all me and not trendy in any sense. In fact I'm trying to harken back to the comic book hair that characters like the Joker or Metamorpho's father-in-law/nemesis Simon Stagg.

shopping carts and bags and boards

I was in Shopper's Drug Mart (for my American friends, that's like our IDA or somesuch) picking up some toiletries (mostly oral care products) and I found myself staring dumbly at a wall of razors. Have I told you all lately how much I hate shaving? I'm sure you surmised as much from the beard experiment and the moustache debacle (I really need to make a "facial hair" category and retroactively apply it... okay just made a "hair (head, body and facial)" category because it seems to be one of my most frequently referred to topics... for those less hirsute, count yourselves lucky). There are many reasons why I hate shaving, the time factor, the cutting factor, the irritant factor, and the annoyance factor. I grow thick, coarse hair on close to half of my face, which if left to its own devices for more than two days, takes a tremendous amount of time to shave (usually 2 - 3 passes on the same area) and its fortitude takes its toll on the razors that I use, and as such I am limited to what razors will actually work for me.

The best razors I've ever used were the Gillette Sensor Excel, a 2-blade razor with totally useless rubber ridges up front and an equally useless "beard softening lotion strip" at the back. But the thing worked. Before I found the Sensor Excel I was using various disposable razors, none of which worked well after two uses, and none of which provided a very close shave. I even tried the Mach 3 when it came out, but the narrow space between blades would clog quickly and it felt like it was tearing the hair out of my face rather than giving me a shave. I realized at that point that anything more than two blades (and perhaps even two blades) was absurd and really not doing anything better. Unfortunately you can't buy a non-disposable razor these days that has less than 3 blades. My Sensor Excel blades are still available (even though they discontinued the razor) and they used to be available in 5's and 10's, but now only in 10's for $19.99 (last time I bought a 10-pack of replacement blades they were $14.99, which I still thought was extortion). I was contemplating perhaps getting a new 3-blade razor but all of those replacement heads cost even more!

So I'm between a rock and a bigger rock here, since the only razors that really work for me are way frigging expensive, disposables are crap and totally environmentally unfriendly, and, oh yeah, I hate electric razors because they hurt and give a bad shave. I'm going to have to go with my post-beard plan of action and buy a straight razor... and slit my wrists because this razor conundrum is just too much to live with (just kidding folks. A bit of dark humour there).

Anyone with thick follicles want to share their razor experiences or have any tips for me?

Hillbilly Jesus

Let's talk moustaches, specifically my moustache.
Ach, a picture's worth a thousand words...

Bain dramage

I think my brain has gone dormant. I'm attempting to kick it into gear, but it keeps saying "I don' wanna"... well, that and kicking yourself in the brain is pretty difficult unless you're Jesus Christ: Vampire Hunter (and even then he kicked that other dude in the brain and not actually himself... but I bet he could if he wanted to).

Anyway, I developed a little tickle in my throat earlier in the week, took yesterday off to try and nurse myself towards a healthy weekend, alas it didn't work. Now I have a little chest cough which isn't really so bad since it only rears its head for a few seconds every half hour or so... still sucks though because I know I'm "sick" and I can't do anything about it, and I had plans for this weekend which didn't involve spreading around the contageon. It's not like it's even particularly nasty, just there enough to be annoying.

Initially, I though the illness it was as a result of my overexertion on Monday, paired with bad dieting Sunday (just didn't eat enough to sustain myself, dammit)... but returning to work today I realized the true cause: that blasted air-conditioner. It's breathing directly onto me. Noone else, just me. It's frickin 15 degrees outside and May... why do we need air conditioning? (I see I'm not alone as Wendyloo is having equal discomfort at her place of employment as well). Good thing I get moved at the end of next week.
Anyway, as this thing persistantly gusts at me, I can feel the tingle rise in my throat like an air bubble slowly escaping from a drowned hose (what?).

So yeah... free day yesterday (a "working from home" day, which is a luxury I'm glad I have)... what does one do on a "I don't have to go into public today" day? Shave their stubble into interesting configurations, that's what. The zoo crew were after me to do a handlebar back during closing stages of "the beard" period, but I just wanted it gone. But I figured yesterday, why the hell not... not like anyone's going to see it anyway. But it just took a little coaxing from a certain someone and now here I am, at work, with what looks like a dirty smudge of an upside-down "U" wrapped over my upper lip.

Actually, unlike the beard experiment, I've had all of one comment about the pornstar-facial folliculae, and it was (gasp!) positive! Someone actually liked it. Others I think are being willfully blind towards it. I'm no Pauly from American Chopper so it's got to go (hey hey, ho ho).
**Update** Just got my second comment.
He: "Are you growing a 'stache?"
Me: (devilish laugh and grin) "Just for today..."
He: (pause) "You're a dangerous man"

Anyway, the stache will be seen at the Parkasgig tonight. at the Gladstone, as will all the truly good people of the world.

As for yesterday's productivity, I did get all work done that needed to be done, as well as learned the lyrics to Ladybug's Picnic

My posts are too long

according to Maria at least. She's gets so exhausted from reading the recent stream of extremely long posts she can't even write a commet to tell me so.

[Littlest Hobo reference here]

I miss The Beard. I know it was overheating my face but still, I loveded it like it was a part of me.
I only hope that, like the littlest hobo or Dr. David (nee Bruce) Banner or the Fugitive or Sam Beckett it's moving from town to town (or time to time) helping people as they need it.

Two days without it and already the comments have been as abundant as when I first grew it. My favourite was the cleaning lady (the one who previously told me through an interpreter I "looked like Christ") who said to me today, without assistance "No bearda?"
I shook my head. "Nope... all gone."
She scrunched her face up. "Aww. Lookta good."
I smiled broadly and said "Thank you" and she gave me another "Ach" with a flappy wave of the hand and a cute older lady smile.
Seriously, I'm going to adopt her as my third grandma. I love the ones I got, but I'm feeling greedy.

I would get into the numerous "young Jesus" and "what happened to Jesus" comments (my response to the latter: "Jesus went into the cave, he's hibernating until winter"... apparently somewhere in my subconscious, Jesus is a reverse ursine I blame Stephen Colbert)

Blogrolling

I'm updating my blogroll soon... anyone I'm missing (aside from maria, jen's scotch blog and robot johnny?)
speak now or forever wait until the next time I update.

For the two wheelers

Poll time for the cyclists out there (Tanya, feel free to take this topic an run with it):
Do you feel safer biking on the road:

a) in daylight during morning/evning rush hour traffic?
or
b) late at night with blinking front and rear lights?

I feel fine doing my morning jaunt across Dundas, although I find the evening jaunt a little bit hairier (especially since the warmer weather and people are driving more aggressively to get home faster). I was just noticing, however, that riding home tonight at 10:30 across Bloor with front and rear flashies going off, I felt safer. Not only could I see the movements of the cars better, but I could also tell better if a car or many were coming up behind me. And it's so much easier to tell if there's someone opening a door (the interior light goes on) or if they're starting the car or just finished parking.
Plus there's less traffic.

Night biking may sound more dangerous but I feel as long as I'm visible via blinkies then I'll do okay (I do get extremely nervous if batteries die out before a night bike).

[putting street sofa pictures here]

(photos by TripleDoubleYou)

[enter jackassery caption here]

[enter witty caption here]

Snowplough

Started watching Buffy season 5 Sunday afternoon, made it halfway through the set, resumed Monday with one disc left for today... which was devoured quickly. Glory was frickin' awesome and smokin', "the Body" was amazing and powerful, and now I finally understand ther ravenous fanbase for Spike. I started season 6 as well, but already I don't like it. Sure season 5 was pretty depressing with all the tragedy and whatnot, but season 6 is just stab-you-in-the-entrails morose. And a biker gang to kick it all off? Lame-o. I'm not going to be ploughing through season 6 in three days, I'll tell you what.

GONE! Gone. gone.

The beard.
It's gone.
I feel cold and lonely, and exposed.
I don't recognize myself anymore... it's the same as when I grew the damn thing... who's that strange handsome beardless devil in mirror?
It's me.
I think.

bread and fish

We have the most delightful cleaning staff at work... they're primarily Portuguese immigrants who don't speak much English, but they're always full of smiles and regardless of language we always try to exchange pleasantries when we cross paths. We have a very diverse staff, with hundreds of multi-linguists on staff speaking dozens upon dozens of languages between them, so on occasion I can actually have a more knowing exchange with the after-hours crew with someone interpreting.
Yesterday, a friend who speaks Portuguese was chatting with my favourite of the cleaning staff, a cheerful 60-something blonde woman who always has a big smile for me. As they pass by my desk she says something to him, and looks at me rubbing her face.
"She says 'Doesn't he look good'"
I smile and say "Thank you kindly."
She speaks again, and he interprets, smiling broadly, "She says you look like Christ" and we both burst out laughing.
The woman went red with embarassment and started to walk away, and I told my friend to tell her it was a huge compliment which he did. She's so adorable.
Anyone know if we can adopt grandmothers, because she's awesome.

Despite earlier predictions, my desk shrine to Superman (and Run DMC) was not replaced with an assortment of Virgin Marys overnight.

Christ, hmm? The last thing my beard needs is more ego.

Unfinished

GAK and I were riffing yesterday, and came to a roadblock. Can anyone complete this sentence:

"The worst thing about self-crucifiction is..."

Best possible answer we came up with "...who's going to put in the last nail?"

Oh sNap

Napping is one of the weirder cravings of the human body, and just one of many arts I havn't mastered. Whenever I have a nap I wind up sleeping for too long, waking up groggy, a little sick to my stomach, and quite hardly refreshed. "They" say that 20 minutes is about the longest one should nap for, as it allows your body just enough time to recharge without going into dormancy... or something like that. Proper napping techniques correlate to increased alertness, accuracy, and productivity... and man I could use all three.

One of the genius things I've discovered is my alarm clock has a napping feature. One push of the button and I got me a 20 minute cowntdown to get it done. I'm still yawning though.

Strange encounter

A weird beard side effect, I suppose, is you get people who think you're, well, "into stuff" asking you for said "stuff". Why just this morning a rather bewildered middle-aged gentleman with an accent which I can only describe as "Eastern block" asked me: "Could you help me out with some deadly science?" He made a toking motion and I wasn't sure I heard him right and said "I'm sorry, I don't understand" and took out both earbuds. "Deadly science" he said, holding the "sssss" at the end of the word this time, once again making the toke motion. "Ah, no. Sorry" "Is alright" he said, beginning to look lost again.

Deadly science, huh?

The beard post

The beard is officially 5 weeks old today... here are random thoughts on beards, beard growing, and my beard:

* Whenever I grow a beard I think of that Hitchcockian Kids in the Hall sketch where a guy catches a fish and grows a beard only to have the beard take over his life. In the end he throws himself off a balcony and when his shattered body is revealed, the beard is gone!

* Yes, my beard feels like a symbiotic life form and not an actual part of me

* Beards only itch as they start to grow in... the first four or five days

* My beard acts as a wind barrier, and I like the feel of the wind as it blows across it

* I'm sure kissing with a guy with a beard feels weird, but it also feels weird for me

* I think about shaving it every day

* For the past week or so I've been overheating under the beard, and wishing I could take it off sometimes. I notice it even moreso if I've been drinking

* I've yet to get food stuck in it, but the moment I do it comes off

* I think I'm special because I have a beard. I'm not exactly sure how special, but it's a total novelty and I love referring to the beard as if it were another being ("the beard and I will be at that party")

* I'm oddly proud of it...

* Stroking the beard is now a nervous twitch

* I'm almost so used to it that looking at pictures of me without it look odd

* initial reaction was along the lines of "Havn't shaved in a while?", but now most people say "I like the beard, it looks good on you"

* I like the grey hairs that are on either side of my chin... I wish I had more there (just like on my temples)

* I'm in maintenance mode with the damn thing now, which means daily clipping of the wild and scraggly parts. I need to decide if I'm keeping it or if it's coming off (I've been telling people for the past three weeks "next Friday") and if I'm keeping it I need to invest in some "tools" to groom.

* One of the fun parts of having a beard is shaving it off into various facial constructs. Dave Gorman talks about this in his Googlewhack Adventure book, and how he drew little diagrams to maximize the number of formations he could make... I've never made diagrams, but one time I grew a beard and each day for 5 days trimmed a piece of it to obtain a different look.

* Sometimes I feel like a different person

* At Rooms birthday party I think I insulted a friend's date by saying (jokingly) "Y'see, I grew the beard to subliminally tell all the ladies out there that I'm a verile manly man, full of testosterone. Dark, rugged and mysterious. 'Who's the man behind the beard,' they ask." Anyway, turns out he can only get splotches of a beard and he seemed almost wounded by my comment. But then he had the cute girl on his arm and I was goin' solo that evening, so he wins regardless.

* I have one friend at work who keeps vowing to shave me in my sleep. I tell her that's hot, but she just wants the beard gone. I think having a woman shave a man can be very sensual and seductive. Having a lady go at your face with a razor requires a lot of trust and intimacy... some day my ladyshave will come.

* When I think of beards I always think of the beard growing contest episode of Cheers. One of the best episodes ever ("Aah. Wolfman!") I think Rebecca offers to shave Sam, seductively, which is probably where the above fetish stems from for me, since I had the hots for Kirsty Alley back then

* Being "in beard" feels like being incognito... kind of like being a different person. It's like clothes for your face, it can change your attitude.

* I understand why some girls with really long hair just keep it growing... it's part fear ("what if I don't like it shorter") and part competitive ("let's see how long I can grow it") and part curiousity ("what will it look like tomorrow")... I feel the same way about my beard

* you don't realize how many people have beards until you start noticing who else has one as well, and naturally comparing yours to theirs.

* while the rest of me may be devoid of ego, I think my beard has a huge fucking ego...

* I have to use conditioner on my face when I shower now

* the underside of my jaw is now at birdsnest/wool consistency

* comparisons so far have been: GI Joe (and not just myself), Jim Caviezel ("Jesus, but more the Count of Monte Cristo"), Jason Lee (circa Chasing Amy), George Clooney (circa Siryana), and Sam Roberts

* A large part of the reason I did the photoshoot with Rannie was to photodocument the beard. He did a great job (the image above is extracted from one of his).

I don't care about the hair we share

Three days, three different people (consisting of two different genders and two different sexualities), and three different conversations about body hair, and no conclusions drawn.

We all have body issues, don't deny it. Some of us want to lose a few extra pounds, some of us want to lose a lot of extra pounds. Some of us want to tone up, some want to bulk up, and there's even a few of us who would like to just be heavier. Weight issues, generally, are changeable (I know it's much more difficult for some than others), but there's some things, genetics, which aren't. Facial features, body structure, height, eye colour, hair colour... yeah, you can use cosmetic or clothing to change them but at the end of the day, when the clothes and makeup come off, you are who you are, and seriously, you need to deal with it and accept yourself for who you are.

It's not easy, I know. I've been struggling with body image issues for a long time. I had taken to sauntering around the house in my underwear in grade 8, sort of like my dad would if he just woke up and was planning on going back to bed again. But my sister would tease me because I was a pudgy kid, a bit roly-poly, and it wasn't long, after a few teasings that I started to be embarassed about myself, and became self-conscious about, well, everything. From my glasses, to my haircut, to my changing pubescent body. I've been the same belt size since grade 8, so weight hasn't really been an issue over the past xx years (and I use "xx" not because I'm ashamed of my age, but because my brain is tired and I can't do the math).

In grade 9 a girl was telling me I was attractive, if only I didn't wear glasses. I got contacts before I returned to school in grade 10. I don't remember exactly when I started doing it, but I started plucking my unibrow around then as well, because the cro-magnon thing just isn't cool (I remember an interview with Billy Zane, and he discussed how he plucked too, which made me feel better). And as if I were Jason Bateman in TeenWolf Too, my legs... oh god my legs got the wolfen. They are frickin hairy... and I was/sort of still am embarassed to wear shorts. A friend at work two years ago said "Oh god, Graig, you're beastly!" And it's true, in one of my recent conversations, a friend in the same "situation" said he's been referred to as a satyr, and I laughed, because I have too... although perhaps self-referential.

Yeah, that hairiness below the waist, well, to me at least, it's not attractive. While women have been getting self-concious thanks to the demons of marketing and advertising (I noticed on the streetcar the other day a woman flipping through an Chinese language entertainment tabloid, and the bulk of the beauty ads featured white women in it... just didn't seem right) it's only recently that men have been seriously targeted about body image. And I don't care what they say, every man would ideally like to look better. We may not think about clothes and appearance in the same way that women do, but we are becoming more conscious of it. And body hair is a big part of it.

Did anyone see Alien: Resurrection? Yeah, shit movie considering the talents involved, and the scariest part? Dan Hedaya's tank-top exposed hairy shoulders. Seriously, that early scene in the movie where Nick Tortelli pops up on screen with his greying shoulder hair got the biggest rise out of the theatre. And lest we forget poor (well, not so poor anymore) Steve Carrell actually getting waxed in the 40-Year-Old Virgin... dude almost had his nipple ripped off. Not cool. And then there's Troy... Eric Bana and Brad Pitt playing two hairless Greek men? Yeah right.

I remember when I first realized though I might have an issue with my lower region hairyness, not everyone else did. A first-year university friend was always complimenting me on my attractiveness and occasionally making jestfully lurid comments towards me, and one day walking up the stairs ahead of her she said "you got nice buns".
I laughed uncomfortably. "Um, thanks"
"Are you smooth or hairy." Which yeah, didn't make me any more comfortable.
"Uh, hairy."
"It's all good," she said.
Which was comforting.

A few years later I was watching the Dean "Superman" Cain hosted Ripley's Believe It Or Not and they were doing a piece on this woman who could read peoples fortunes based on their ass. The most difficult part, she said, was reading men, because their bums were so hairy (and then the gypsy giggled like a Japanese schoolgirl). These sort of "hey, I'm not the only one out there" revelations are satisfying, although I still think that the whole body hair is kind of gross. But others, ladies, have disagreed, stating it's rugged, manly. That's kind of a classic 70's view of the male body, much like the heavy woman is a very 17th/18th century view of the female ideal. I mean, who was the hot shit in the 70's? Burt-fucking-Reynolds that's who, and have you seen that Cosmo nude spread he did. The man is an ape... but the ladies loved it, and I think that's probably still their top-selling issue of all time. And then there's Tom Selleck offering up his moustache rides...

But these days, men are waxing themselves to be, as Stephen Colbert said on the Report last night, like an eel from the neck down. Asian men have it lucky, if Japanese wrestling is any judge, as there's not a fleck of hair on their bodies (except that one dude in Calamari Wrestler...) and perhaps I'm just idealizing... some of my readers can set me straight on that if I'm wrong. I'm not sure why the body hair repulses me so, but it does, and it's probably the thing I least like about myself... but at the same time I'm extremely proud of my beard growing skills... trade off I guess. And I refuse to wax or shave, as that's just (in my case, high) maintenance and, really, shaving... man that itches when it starts stubbling back in... (oh, and for the record, if my lady doesn't want to shave her pits or legs, she don't have to, because I sure as shit aint doin' it for her). I'm just going to limit my exposure of such elements of myself to the world. Although, when I was doing the photoshoot with Rannie earlier this week, I was almost proud to be showing off my natural state of shoulder and chest hair (although I'm not that hairy up top, it's just errant).

I think my favourite moment of coming to terms with my body as it is was years ago when David Duchovney, in the peak of his X-Files hotness, was on The Late Late Show with Tom Schnider. They were talking about his transvestite role on Twin Peaks and Tom asks "Did you have to be... shaved" and David said "Yeah, but only halfway down my thighs... so I'd be at the gym and taking a shower and the guys would be like 'who's the man in the fur shorts'".
If sexy Fox Mulder has lower torso hirsuteness, then I'm not in such bad company.

So these days, I'm not furry and proud, but I'll be damned if I'm going to be ashamed of my natural state. Until they build those machines that they had in Andromeda Strain that both decontaminates and defollicizes (I think I made that word up) I'll just let the bulk of it be.

Bear Club For Men

So last night I went to Rannie's for a photoshoot for his Winter Portrait Series, which includes:

Blue
Orange
Monochrome
and Wet (partial graig nipplage, and a lot of colorless skin, but safe for work... Rannie made me classy)

these are but a mere fraction of the pictures that were taken, but I trust the man picked the cream of the crop (although I seem to recall at least a half dozen others which didn't make me look like a total knob, my fault, definitely not rannie's composition). Even bearded and topless, he made me look dashing...

I thank Rannie for the experience, I had a great time, and even spritzing me with (supposedly) warm water, it was easy and comfortable. I also thank him for capturing the beard for historical posterity (more on the beard in future postings) . The man's a true talent. Congrats on the "best Canadian blog" win.

Drawn and quartered

Oh, that wasn't the most brilliant thing I've ever done, but it certainly was worth it.

Y'see, ever since grade school, ever since I saw a picture of that dude atop a horse with both their skins peeled away, I've wanted to see Gunther von Hagens' work. When I found out that the "Body World 2" exhibit was coming to Toronto at the Ontario Science Center, I practically wet myself. When it started on September 30th, well, my life threw itself into a bit of turmoil around that time so I know why I didn't exactly get to it, but then, late last year, my sister and I made a pact to go to it. We were supposed to see it before Christmas but schedules and whatnot didn't work out, and they never really did since.

This weekend was the last weekend for it, so it really was do or die (well, that's a little extreme, do or don't time, I guess). CBC Metro Morning told me it was running 24 hours all weekend, and I was wondering who would bloody well go to the Ontario Science Center at 4:30 am.
Well, me, for one. My sister for two. Her partner for three. And the hundreds of others in the lineup that we saw there this morning (including Sloan's Chris Murphy).

I went on-line yesterday to check out some info about the show only to find that it proclaimed limited tickets were available for midnight to 7:30 am viewings. Upon further exploration we found the only block of tickets open were 3:30, 4:00 and 4:30. Ouch. There was a bit of hemming and hawing about whether any of us would make it up and out that early, but with the alternative of missing the exhibit and feeling like asses as a result, we set the alarms for 3:30 and put in an appearance.

The place was packed, lineups were abundant, and the gross-out factor dissipated by the time you passed the third table display of plastinated organs, bisected, vivisected, sliced and peeled.

An utterly fascinating display. I appreciated the amount of work that must go into all the various exhibits as much as the exhibits themselves. My absolute favourite was the rows of jars containing only arteries, taking the shape of an arm or foot or face, red vessils floating in water. Visually beautiful.

I got tired of the posed bodies after a while, but some of the neater exhibits using full figures were the drawer man (with blocks of his body cut and pulled out, exposing the cross sections), the ringed man (with different depths of cylindrical sections removed from his body) and the cross section comparing an obese person to an average person, emphasizing the strained organs.

I would say go see it, but it's over. Check the Body Worlds site for the next leg of the exhibits. Edumicational and morbidly entertaining.

Traveller's Comfort

My mom came to town this weekend with my sister and her partner, which is always nice because she buys me things. Oh, and she's my mom, that's nice too... :)

She was heading out today to the Tournament of Hearts in London Ontario via Via Rail, and so I was escorting her to Union Station to make sure she found her way all right. Unfortunately, when we got there we were an hour early, and on top of that the train was delayed 40 minutes. So we found a bench and lounged.

Fine, we had some time to kill. But soon the 40 minute delay became an hour delay, and then a 2 hour delay. I enjoyed spending time with her, people watching and watching the pigeons freak out the people we were watching. The funny thing is my mom had an 8 hour delay the week before in Chicago for a transfer flight from Buffalo to Phoenix, and her luggage was lost for two days upon return (and mangled somewhat when returned). She's got the travel jinx.

I left her in a very very long line for boarding. I've not taken the train myself ever, so I had no idea that all those delayed passengers would've stayed there, sitting on the floor, grumbling away. I don't doubt she's getting on the train, just she would have practically been first in line had we went to the boarding queue when we got there.

Meanwhile, I just got a call from the New Zealand travelling GAK who regailed me with elements of his lovely time in the land just North of Down Under. He too was waiting for a late passenger transport at the Christchurch airport. A surprise call but pleasant nonetheless. I still seethe with envy.

the most wonderful time of the year

I love winter because I love women in winter clothing. I love watching ladies roaming with their rosy cheeks and red noses, hair peering out from under toques, mittens and scarves concealing hands and neck. I think women are most beautiful in winter clothing, able to accessorize as much or as little as they like, able to hint at their strengths and hide any of their perceived flaws. Forget summer, where belly shirts and short skirts reveal waaay too much, I like the excessive tease of winter. What's she hiding? Even doffing a hat or pulling off a glove is like an innocent, unsexualized strip tease. Intriguing, encouraging, fascinating. I love the face... back when I used to draw, I would most often just draw faces, and I would study faces. Winter clothing is built to accentuate and display the face. Toques, scarves, turtlenecks, collars, hoods are all there to frame the face, highlight it's unique characters, and the brush of cold across the cheek, rashing it red or bronze and drawing lips brighter makes every face more beautiful. Oh Winter, why must you go?

In case you missed them

Filecloud has all 6 episodes of the great new BritCom the IT Crowd available for free download (not torrents either)

Beardo

Yes, I have me a beard.
Yes, I do look like GI Joe.
No, I'm not going to shave it because you don't like it.
I'm in fact going to get it professionally shaved off in a week or so.
I can't say I grew it for that exclusive purpose, although a professional straightrazor shave was one of the reasons I did grow it out (if you're going to get it done, might as well go all out).
I also grew it because I wanted to see what I look like with a beard. The answer? Old school GI Joe.
Here's what I learned though:
Men - other guys like the beard and are impressed with it and conversation almost always segues into shaving it into different facial hair formations (the fu-manchu or handlebar 'stache is most often mentioned)
Ladies - they don't like it. They say beards are scratchy. They're telling me, I itch like I gots fleas.
The other thing about beards is if you're not going to keep it kempt, then you need to dress nicer and cleaner, t-shirts just make you look like a grubby basement dweller... hey, who you callin' grubby?

(Separated at birth?)

more beard pics:::