Really.
Promise.
Life was hectic for a bit. I could try to explain it, but I think a picture is worth a thousand words - or so the idiom goes:
Through the power of my awesome facial hair (and, I suppose, to a lesser extent, the vehicle engineers at Dodge), we came out alright. I emerged from the wreck, beard flapping in the wind, holding a damsel upon each shoulder. Explosions in the background. I single-handed shot a zombie in the face with a 1911 from 283.2 yards away. The works.
Plus side: we were headed to a metal show (Death Angel/Testament/Anthrax for those interested in such details) so I had on a Motorhead shirt, my black cowboy boots, and my hair was up. One of the cops came up and asked if we were headed to a metal show. Booyah. He said he was sad that he was on shift as he wanted to go too. Dude was cool.
I wish real life was that glamorous. No, that shit sucked. And so I've been dealing with insurance adjusters, car dealerships, and more insurance adjusters for the past couple of weeks.
Which made me remiss. I apologize.
Anyways, I've been remiss in quite a few things lately. I haven't taken my daily pictures for a while. I'll have to start back up again. I haven't shaved the sides of my head in a while, so my mohawk is sad (literally - it's getting too long now and falls over like Shamu's fin when he's sad). I haven't written here in a while.
If any good has come out of all of this, it's humor. The folks at Enterprise gave me a Chevy HHR for a rental car. This wouldn't be bad, except for the fact that I have a mohawk. I can't spike it right now because it's so high and the roof is so low that it hits the ceiling and screws it up for the day. I laughed my ass off the first time that happened.
Oh, I suppose this is a blog about my facial hair.
This post is just for you, Alex:
Catch y'all next week.
Nick
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