A short while ago, I told you I was working with Norelco on a content campaign, whereby I got to pretend I was in the NHL and quit shaving for the duration of the NHL playoffs. I am no stranger to facial hair, and I thought this would be the easiest money I ever made. Man, was I wrong.
As I have explained to my sons several times, if they are ever able to grow monumental facial hair, it will be because of my half of their DNA. The men on their mom's HunGerWegian side of the family can't even grow a smudgy little moustache to save their lives, but the French men can muster a full Robin Williams in just a few weeks.
In the winter (see left), this is a blessing. But the idea of growing a beard in the summer leaves me flummoxed. It's 90 degrees out, and you want a carpet on your face?
When the beard filled in, it was waaay more trouble than I anticipated. It was itchy, sweaty, matted. It needed constant attention, and my kids hated it. Which led to a decidedly odd state of affairs.
In my first post, I told you I'm a Devils fan. So when the Kings went up three games to none, I was, naturally, bummed. The Devils were about to get blown out by an 8th-seed team with only a +15 goal differential all season long. But I was also overjoyed, because it would at least be a sweep, thus putting my shaggy face out of its misery as soon as was mathematically possible.
When Game 4 came on, I had my Norelco beard trimmer in hand, waiting for the Band-Aid to be ripped off. I had already made peace with the loss. The Kings would get their first cup in a feel-good story, and LA would go nuts. The NHL would be happy that such a large-market team won it all.
But the Devils won. Then they won Game 5. And suddenly I was faced with a stunning quandary of ambivalence in Game 6: DO I ROOT FOR THIS TEAM OR NOT?
Thankfully, the Devils made several costly mistakes in the first period and quickly dropped behind 3-0, and the game was never in doubt until they finally succumbed, 6-1. And when that final horn sounded, I identified directly with the delirium in the Staples Center as the beard trimmer clicked on and Zamboni-ed that hedge off of my face.
And now, I am clean-shaven and restored to normalcy, just in time for a massive heatwave. And all I have to deal with is my ridiculous two-toned face, half sunburned and half sallow.
