Hairs On My Chiny Chin Chin.

As most people know, I haven't had a clean shaven face for a long time. I always went around with some sort of facial hair, whether it be a mustache or a beard. But, that all changed one Sunday when I decided to chop off the lip curtains and chin drapes. Needless to say, I didn't feel like myself. Who knew that facial hair could make someone feel 'whole'.

My constant dance with facial hair started a few years back. Before seeing some friends perform, I decided I'd shave and look nice and clean. A great time was had and there were plenty of pictures taken that night. A few days later, I log into Facebook to see that I've been tagged in some new photos. Immediately, I thought these must be the pictures of that awesome night and I can't wait to relive it while flipping through them. Holy crap. Who is that weird looking dude with the tiniest mouth on this planet? Oh that's me? Well, I'm going to throw up now and never shave again. I kid you not, those were my exact thoughts when I saw what I looked like with a terrible haircut and sans facial hair. From that moment on, I vowed to never go bare-faced.

So, why did I go back on my word? Well, the simple answer is that I completely forgot that I look horrible without facial hair. Some may argue that I have no excuse to forget because I'm clean shaven in the family portrait hanging in my house. They'd be totally right, but how many times have you walked past something in your house and have forgotten it existed? If I'm honest, it would only be noticed if someone took the picture down. And that's almost exactly what happened when I finally shaved. Without my masculine mane, I realized I had made a huge mistake.

But did I? After a couple of days, I noticed that the ladies at my job had been paying me more compliments than I ever got with any facial hair. I can't remember a single instance when a girl has told me they liked my beard. The same goes for my mustache. Actually, I think girls have kept from talking to me while I had one. There were plenty of 'dig your stache, bro' from guys, but not a single girl said they liked my mustache. And that's a bit heart breaking because I seriously think I can pull one off. But the proof is in the pudding, I guess.

Now, where does this leave me? Do I keep going clean shaven and accept the attention of the ladies? Or should I let my chin hairs grow to their roots' content? Either way, my facial hair takes forever to grow in. It's been almost three weeks since I've shaved and the amount of stubble I've got going on is equivalent to that of an Italian man's after only an hour of shaving. So, I've got plenty of time to make my decision.

Extra! Extra! Read All About It.

I feel comfortable saying that most of us have fallen victim to social websites spilling the beans on something. It could have been the winner of a game you recorded, the ending to a movie you wanted to see, or the plot twist in one of your favorite shows. The last one is what recently happened to me. Sadly, it happened to some other friends as well.

While hanging out with a friend, they got up to use the bathroom, and I decided to check my Instagram feed. There it was, smacked right in the middle; a character from one of my current favorite shows had bit the dust and I wasn't around to see it. A little picture with some lettering on it let me know what I had been waiting all week to find out. Needless to say, I got pissed and it wasn't just me. After checking facebook, it seems that the out of bag cat shat all over everyone's newsfeed.

Reading through everyone's comments and status updates, even taking a step back and analyzing my own reaction, I got the sick feeling that maybe we were caring too much. Our friends had instantly become hated and I even called someone a 'dipshit'. Really? I reverted to using a term I hadn't heard, let alone spoken, in years? It's only a TV show.

Don't worry. This isn't where I'm going to preach and tell everyone that there are bigger concerns in the world and that we're fortunate to have so much. No. I'm going to tell people, 'stop being an idiot!' There is no longer any glory in being the first to tweet or update about something that happened. You're being annoying and unless you've just had a child, there's really nothing you can post first that won't seem that way. This is especially true when entertainment and media are involved. Way to go. The only exception I'll make is for the announcement that Whitney has been canceled. Even then, I won't really care.

Ricky, Don't Lose That Number.

Quick! What's the telephone number to your best friend's house? Ok. Now what's the number to their cellphone? If you're like me, you can probably remember the answer to the first question, but can't answer the second one to save your life. Back in my day (I can't believe I'm using those words), there was nothing but a piece of paper that helped us remember someone's phone number. The same could be said about their address.

Recently, I was helping my mom move some things around. In one of her old purses, I found a personal phonebook with the numbers and addresses of almost everyone I remembered from my childhood. What shocked me more than the fact that it was held together with tape was that it was completely up to date. There were names in there of people who had recently come into her life and I found myself asking myself if I had that kind of information about my own friends.

Sure, I could remember the number to my best friend's home, my mom's job, sister, our house, and even the ever popular Jenny of Tommy Tutone fame. What I couldn't remember was my dad's new cell phone number, best friend's cell phone, anyone's cell phone for that matter. Throw into the mix that I don't know their addresses either. Like most people, I know exactly how to get there, but I don't know the name to all of the streets. Thinking about it, the only address and number I actually remember memorizing, as of late, were to my current job.

If you're like me, you pop a new number into your phone and never look at it again. You trust that when you tap their name, your phone will do all the work and soon the two of you will be connected. Sometimes you don't even see a number. Instead of calling, a text will be sent and the only information you see about the receiving end is their name. And how many times has that bit you in the ass, accidentally sending a text to the wrong Angela? You know? The one who has a nice personality, but you never want to see her again, but you forgot to get rid of her number? Congratulations, you're the embodiment of false hope and it's all because you don't know their numbers and forgot to differentiate when you put them in your phone's contacts.

What I find funny about all of this is that it's coming from a society that is terrified of giving out personal information, yet willingly post it on Facebook for most everyone to see. The world can figure out where you are at an exact moment because people became obsessed with "checking in" to places. Even more, pictures are taken to further prove that they were at said establishment, and they were completely wasted. But, Lord help them if they ever need to call a friend for a ride and lost their cell phone.