Hey There Delilah

I grew up with a Native America Step-Dad. 

When he was lucid, and didn't have access to whiskey, I'd hear stories of why you don't cut your hair, why you don't take photographs of other people, and why you don't screw people you don't love. 

Yep...

He'd say every time you have sex with someone, they become a part of you and you end up looking like them. 

I'm not cold or frigid.  I'm just too vain to screw just anybody. 

I don't want to look un-hot. 

Of the few people I've known that well, I want to know who in the hell gave me the green eyes, the wrinkles, and the white hair? 

I didn't have those when I was a virgin. 

Oh, and my skin was whiter and less golden back then, too.  My make-up artist claims that I am no longer "cool" but "warm" and I had to throw out all my make-up.  That was expensive. 

I've not been with anyone in ages...so, how in the heck did that happen?  Maybe this is what I looked like before my high school sweetheart.  Maybe he's the one that changed my appearance? 

I like blaming men for my problems (can't you tell)? 

I'm so old...I don't want to admit to what I don't remember.  And, a lady doesn't remember such things from back in the day.  Not to hurt any one's feelings....but to save them. 

Anyway, I digress. 

Oh, that's right.  It's my turn to talk about the photograph thingy.  Yep, daddy believed photographs stole your soul.  Yeppers, he also said that to burn one was to make the people in the photo burn for you. 

Daddy was a firefighter, I wonder what he thought when houses burned down? 

And, back to the hair. 

Our hair is our power, he said.  Don't cut it.  When my parents were alive, I had curly brown hair w/ red highlights down to my lower back.  When they died, I cut and dyed the holy tar out of it. 

I don't know about the beard thing because my dad didn't have a beard.  Native Americans don't grow a lot of facial hair. 

So, I don't know what they thought about it.

In my old age, I've developed a beard.  I kid you not.   

Yep, I have a beard.  It consists of one reddish brown hair that comes out of a scar on my chin. 

That's my beard.  Until today, it pissed me off.  It made me feel old.  It makes me want to carry tweezers in my pocket and bleach the holy tar out of my face. 

I feel like a man. 

It's gross!! 

Until today, that is.  I found something that makes me feel a heck of a lot better. 

Today, I read that successful men in the programming business all have beards. 

Well, I'd like to improve my computer skills and I guess I'm well on my way. 

And I owe it all to that one hair! 

It's a symbol of my brilliance! 

Yipee!!!

So, I'll keep studying computer programming, bleach the heck out of that lil' critter on my chin and see how long I can grow my beard. 

Ha!! 

Oh, and if you want to read the story I found, you can find it here, just add the http://www. part.  I hate ending up in other people's comment section because I share their link. 

alenz.org/mirror/khason/why-microsoft-can-blow-off-with-c.html

Love ya,

S

Okay, okay....the truth is that I'll still tear the shitty thing out of my skin.  That gross hair won't last more than an hour after being spotted. . 

But, it is a fun thought that I can have the wisdom of a computer programmer given enough facial hair. 
People are bizarre....fun....but bizarre!