Even a really close shave won’t make me a Medium

Right-oh. This is inspired by both missTV (she has “Song of the Week” every Sunday) and ege (who has recurring themes at least twice a week).

Welcome to Like/Don’t like Saturdays.

beardonaut likes:

It goes without saying that I like beards. I like it on me, I like them on others, I take pictures of my beard with other beards. I am a beardonaut (for those of you that don’t get it, that’s –naut, like astro, but with a beard instead of space) suffering from beardomania.

So on Thursday I went to a barber for the first time ever. Not a hairdresser, mind you, but a barber. There’s not an abundance of them here. Extensive Googling yielded three. I settled on Barber & Books.

Now this is what a barbershop should look like.

The place is, quite literally, a paradise for beard nerds. As a friend commented: “Too bad I don’t have a beard anymore, cause it seems like you could go crazy with all sorts of shaving paraphernalia.” So true, and all that paraphernalia is available at Barber & Books.

I spent about 40 minutes having my beard trimmed. It went from “massive goatee with bushy sideburnsy things” to “full beard” under the barber’s skillful scissors, combs and whatnot. The result was beyond my expectations. I’m going back in a few weeks to get a proper shave, to clean up the lines of my beard.

A straight razor is just about the scariest thing I know (Lament Configuration puzzle boxes with moving parts being number one, of course), and I would never consider using one myself, but I really look forward to such a close shave. I’ve only had one before, and in comparison with what I’m getting this time, the first time has to be considered a quickie. I expect to leave fully satisfied and with a smile plastered all over my face.

So. I like Barber & Books.

beardonaut doesn’t like:

I had some time to kill before my appointment, so I took the time to look around for some clothes. I tend to buy a lot of my clothes at skate shops and such, since I really like skateboard shoes, baggy pants, hoodies etc (if I could choose I would always wear my baggy denim shorts, my Painfield hoodie, and one of maybe four pairs of skate shoes).

The problem is that most people that skate (I don’t – I have the balance of twelve different sized and shaped boxes stacked) are two feet tall and weigh about as much as a piece of paper. I walked into two different places and went “Ooh! Aah!” at maybe six different pieces of clothing, which is highly unusual since I’m very picky. All of them turned out to be available only in sizes Small or Medium.

Not really sure how to sum up what I don’t like about that in a short sentence. You get the point.

The Norwegian Blue prefers keeping on its back

A colleague called me today as I was on my way home from work and started the conversation with:

“This is kind of an odd question, and I thought of you…” Presto! Instant attention.

“You know all sorts of odd people…” There was a degree of hesitation to his voice, as if he was about to ask me something very strange. I do know some odd people, and may be categorized as odd myself, at least by some, but I think that some people I work with tend to exaggerate the oddness of my social circles.

And then, came The Question.

“Do you know someone that owns a parrot?”

Ehm…crazy person says what. What?!

A parrot. A known associate of bearded metalheadz everywhere

Why would I know someone that owns a parrot? To me, parrots are the pets of old ladies, who feed them nuts and say “Who’s a pretty girl?”. Wait. Maybe that does fit some of my friends…

Thinking about it now, I’m kind of flattered. He had a problem and figured I knew someone who had the solution to that problem. I choose to see myself as a facilitator here, someone who does know a lot of people, as opposed to someone who specifically would know someone with a parrot.

Yarr, mateys!

Here is a simple but powerful rule - always give people more than what they expect to get

“Greetings from Amazon.co.uk,
We thought you would like to know that the following items have been sent to: …”

Now that’s customer service. I ordered yesterday, and part of the order is shipped today. Amazon are always fast and reliable, but this…phew. Me likey!

So what was shipped today?
Batman: The Killing Joke by Alan Moore (graphic novel)
Batman: Arkham Asylum by Grant Morrisson (graphic novel)
Absolute Sandman: Volume 3 by Neil Gaiman (collects a number of Sandman graphic novels)
The Greatest Sci-Fi Movies Never Made by David Hughes (non-fiction)
Forensics and Fiction: Clever, Intriguing, and Downright Odd Questions from Crime Writers by Douglas P Lyle (non-fiction)

Hooray! Hooray!

I always say shopping is cheaper than a psychiatrist

I had a shit day today. After a shit weekend.

Don’t get me wrong. I hung out with Mah Girl, cooked some food (fake chili and the kick ass fish stew my parental units taught me), watch all of Spaced and generally kicked back. It could have been an awesome weekend. However, there was a reason for this level of inactivity.

We were supposed to go see Blade Runner: The Final Cut at the movies on Saturday. Then we were supposed to hook up with friends for dinner. All of it cancelled, because some fucking asshole decided to assault someone I really care about. I would pay good money to be able to turn back time and be on a certain street at five a.m. on Saturday morning with a baseball bat. Or a chainsaw.

This has not improved my faith in the inner goodness of mankind.

So my mood was bad enough when I went to work this morning. Then the day turned out to be one of those where things just go wrong. Horribly, inexplicably, blood spillingly wrong. I managed to wrench two small victories out of the absolute chaos that was work, and when I got home I soothed both myself and Mah Girl (who had a traumatic going-back-to-school day) with sushi and fries (yes, it’s a viable combination) and the awe-inspiring chocolate squares left over from a colleague’s party this weekend (thanks, Pretty Karl).

Mmmm....Joker....*drools*

It wasn’t enough. So, I turned to the glory that is Amazon. Now a massive package is on the way, loaded with books, movies, TV show box sets and some comics. Will list it another day. I feel better, though not good.

People who say you can’t buy happiness just don’t know where to shop.

There is great truth in Alphonse Karr's remark that modern men are ugly because they do not wear their beards

I’ve been known to terrify small children. Not on purpose, no no, I’m a really nice guy, but the mere sight of me has driven children to tears on occasion. My theories have included that my general attitude towards the miniature people shines through, or that it’s The Beard.

Today it was The Beard.

I was walking up towards the line at the grocery store when a man and his son came walking from the left, to get in line in front of me. No problem there, I was several meters away and crawling along at my usual pace. Which is to say most of the store could have moved in, in front of me. And it’s a big frackin’ store.

So the guy takes his place in line in front of me, while his son stops and just stares at me. You know the kind of look. People in horror movies faced with a massive man wearing a hockey mask and wielding a bloody machete get that look. Then the kid turns and runs.

The father notices and chases after him, looking back over his shoulder at me and says:
“It’s your beard.”

OK. So people in grocery stores faced with a massive man wearing a bloody…I mean impressive beard get that look. Obviously.

He comes back with the little Oompa-Loompa cradled in his arms and says:
“He’s afraid of priests.”

Let me stop for a moment here and inform y’all that we’re not talking about Bostonian priests. No black vestments and priest collar for me. Oh no. They were Muslims, so it was all about The Beard.

Yes. It is bigger than my head.

The father spent a few minutes trying to get his son to realize I wasn’t a priest. We shook hands (helped a little), I smiled (didn’t help) and I told the Loompa my name (maybe that helped).

In the end, the kid stood staring at me while his father paid for their groceries. Then they went on their way. I see a psychologist’s couch in that kid’s future. And a shaved chin.

Let me help you tie the rope around your neck

So I wrote this post about useless people and nurture vs. nature and inner darkness vs. the goodness of mankind, etc. Basically I’d had a bad day and needed to vent.

I’ve calmed down now (yeah, right), and figured I would continue that train of thought, especially since Joel went to such great lengths to comment.

I don’t believe that the inner core of humans is evil. Neither do I believe that it’s good. Beneath the veneer of civilization, we’re still animals, still the creatures that either hid in the shadows when the predators stalked by or planted our feet and fought, tooth and nail. That fight or flight reflex is still there, and it wakes up when we’re put in a situation that pushes us beyond the limits that we, and society, have set for ourselves.

Because of that, I remain convinced that every human being is capable of lethal violence. It doesn’t matter how much of a non-violent person you are, that primal reflex remains there, dormant.

That aside, I also believe some people are inherently evil. There are some atrocities that people commit that I simply cannot attribute to a messed-up childhood, or to the instinct for violence at our core. There are things that humans simply don’t do. And yes, I acknowledge that abuse or childhood trauma or whatever can make things worse, and probably shape someone who otherwise would have stopped at ripping the wings of insects into something far worse, and I even acknowledge that video games or movies or whatever intense experience there is out there, can act as something of a trigger, though not as a root cause. That, however, is a discussion for another day.

In Western society, we choose to meet such atrocities with prison time, and in some states in the US with the death penalty. I’m not an avid proponent of ending someone’s life, but in some cases, I actually see no other way out. This is not out of any biblical sense of an eye for an eye and all that nonsense. It’s simply because some people, that can no longer be called humans, simply don’t deserve to live.

Case in point: Andrei Chikatilo. This pathetic excuse of a man wanted the death penalty and got it. Can anyone argue that incarcerating him would have made more sense, or that therapy could ever have rehabilitated a man who murdered 52 people over 12 years? And ate some of them?

I claim to be an agnostic of some sort, but I sincerely hope that there’s some deep dark Hell where sadists like Chikatilo endure everlasting pain, or that nothing awaits them beyond death other than a cold lonely grave.

So yes. I’m in favor of killing people occasionally. Please argue with me.

Every head has its own headache

For a few years now I’ve suffered periods of chronic headaches (I know chronic is supposed to be “all the time”, and as such it can’t be periodical, but I don’t know how else to describe it). When it first happened, I had no idea what it was. My right eye got all bloodshot, and I had severe stabbing pains just slightly above and in front of my right temple.

I spent an afternoon at the emergency room, watching an endless parade of old men holding the hands of their dying wives, drug users zonked out of their minds and screaming incoherently, car crash victims, and so on. It was horrible and emotionally draining.

Finally some med student barely out of Anatomy 101 found the time to meet me, had me stand on one leg, made me touch the tip of my nose with my eyes closed, brushed my face with a feather, etc. At first they thought I had Horton’s, which is sometimes called “the suicide headache”.

After being bounced around between a few doctors, I finally ended up with a neurologist at Huddinge hospital, who is part of a team that work exclusively with headaches. The final diagnosis is that I have SUNCT (I’ve learned what the acronym stands for – Short-lasting, Unilateral, Neuralgiform headache attacks with Conjunctival injection and Tearing – but have yet to say it in full while drunk).

SUNCT manifests in a variety of ways. Some people suffer a few hours of attacks and then never feel it again, and some have it all their lives and no drugs help.

I don't like the drugs, but the drugs like me

For me it was periods of attacks, about two months at a time with dozens, sometimes up to a hundred short stabbing attacks every day. I had problems sleeping, couldn’t watch TV for a long time or sit by the computer. I read books, took walks. Cooked a lot. My neurologist prescribed me a few different drugs, before we tried Neurontin. It’s normally used as an enhancer drug for epileptics, when their regular meds can’t do the trick, but also has documented results for various kinds of nerve pains. Such as mine.

For a glorious list of possible side effects and such, go here.

The last time the attacks started was January of 2007. They still haven’t stopped. 19 months and counting. Whoop-de-fucking-do. I eat pills three times a day, at 08:00, 15:00 and 22:00, seven pills in total. 3+2+2.

I’ve had them for so long now that the headache feels like an integral part of me. Which is just sad. The pills go with me everywhere.

Today, while Googling around for Neurontin info I found out that it’s been linked to a couple of suicides in the States. At first I wrote this off as The Land of Law Suits nonsense, until I found this. For a few minutes I seriously considered not eating my pills tonight. Until I read the whole article. A 0.43 percent increase in suicidality. Ehm…hardly something to worry about. I hope.