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RE: Parting is such sweet sorrow... (or, A November to Remember... to Forget)
It sure is! Almost damn near crippled my productivity. It's a gift and a curse. The moment I became beardless, I immediately ran out of things to do and it left me questioning the very purpose of my existence.
Hmm, I question my existence all the time. Maybe I should grow a beard. Oh yeah, I can't. I guess I'm stuck here in my beardless unproductive ennui.
Ahh, now I feel much better. I mean, I am sad for you, brother. Truly, I am. But, knowing that others couldn't grow the faux-beard I am able to falsify brings joy to my life. Truly, it does.
My beardless unproductive ennui gives you joy? Truly? I hope your faux-beard grows out super fast one night and strangles you in your sleep. Truly, I do.
That is the dream, isn't it? Truly, the dream. Your inability to grow a beard is what gives me joy, but if you feel happier about me being happy about your unproductive ennui, then I guess I'll change my answer to that. What makes you happy, makes me happy.
We should both grow out our beards and wear matching shirts for the rest of our lives.
Indeed! OR, we could both not grow beards and not wear shirts for the rest of our lives. Either way, it's still a match isn't it? I've already started on the latter, my streak's two days going on three.
It's always a match with us. I'm going to keep my shirt on, though.
And my pants are non-negotiable. They're on. Period.