Down With the Sickness


Now,  I promise that this will not be an attempt to excuse myself for my negligent, pathetic, and horrific lack of blog posts in the past few weeks.  I have no interest in handing out blame.  Doing so could only lead to tears.  I considered making up stories about a zombie unicorn attack or my ill-fated trip to Florida in an attempt to make the Major Leagues with the St. Louis Cardinals.  But those would be lies.  And I’m better than that.  You deserve better than that.  The truth is… I’m pretty lazy, and when I get home from work I’m usually pretty tired.

Now that the truth is out there, I want to thank you all for sticking with me!  I’m impressed, and more than a little surprised, at the amount of traffic I’ve been receiving in these dark days of “no-posting”.  Good for you!  I can see that the public is desperate for some beard-related entertainment, and I feel horrible that I’ve been so bad about providing it.  I’d make promises about lots of posts in the near future, but… well, the proof is in the pudding as my father always said.  (actually I’m not sure he’s ever said that.  don’t take that as a direct quotation.)

  And I don’t offer this statement as mitigation, but I do think you should know:  I’ve been pretty sick for about a week and a half, now.  I don’t want to make light of serious illness, but I’m pretty sure that I have the Ebola virus.  Or the plague.  Or chicken pox.  Or gout.  I’m not really a doctor.  I just know I’ve been sick. 

I thought that Oliver had been protecting me.  I felt that any truly dangerous contagion was being filtered out by his bristly awesomeness.  Perhaps I had a cocoon of hairy protection by my mouth and nose.  I even briefly considered the possibility that Oliver had developed some sort of force-field of masculinity that was, by sheer force of will, preventing any potential illness from infesting me.  I have since discarded this notion.

It turns out that I am mortal, despite the increasingly impressive Oliver.  Who knew?  Now… a little picture.  And no promises… but a little wink and a nod.

Only 227 more days...

Peace out, beardo’s.



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Oliver Needs A Job


Does anyone know of any jobs that my beard, Oliver, might be qualified to perform?  It turns out, maintaining Oliver’s quality of living requires a pretty penny.

It’s been entirely too long since I’ve made a proper list.  So.

Reasons why Oliver is bleeding my wallet like a tween vampire hero:

1. I go through a TON of shampoo and conditioner.  Literally, in four months I’ve had to buy three bottles of shampoo and two bottles of conditioner.

2.  Lotion.  See #1.  And see the creepy beard lotion video blog.

3.  Alcohol costs more.  This one is a bit of a stretch.  But now when I go out with my boys, knowing that I look like young Santa Claus I have a harder time talking to random women.  Hence… more alcohol. Hence more money.

4.  Food costs more.  With the growing excess of food that ends up in Oliver’s grasp on a meal-by-meal basis, to fill up the tank,I have to either (sub-list!):

             a.  buy more food.  or…

             b.  eat pre-bearded food

5.  Gas costs more.  I believe with all the extra weight I’m carrying around as he piggy-backs on my face, it’s really hurting my gas-mileage. 

6.  Miscellany expenses.  Combs, brushes, napkins, wax for the moustache, holding paste for the beard, a bat to keep the ladies away… the list goes on.

So with those bills piling up… I think it’s time that Oliver started helping out the team.  I mean, he’s just resting on his laurels.  I mean, my shoulders are broad and they can take the weight, but it would be nice if he at least OFFERED to do something productive besides lookin’ good. 

Unfortunately, almost every job I can think of requires either arms or legs or hands, or a brain.  Most of the jobs that come to mind (lumberjack, hair model, Prophet, Snow White’s tiny assistant) are really jobs that he qualifies ME for, and I have no time for another job.  So come on, Oliver.  Step your game up. 

Unemployed, free-loading beard.


242 Days to go…


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 So last weekend was the Whiskerino Throwdown in Nashville, TN.  It was a deightful gathering of nearly 200 of my bearded brethren to celebrate all things beard.  We bowled, we ate tacos, we drank lots and lots of beer.  It was also a somewhat man-erotic experience.  There was an almost painful amount of beard touching.  There are exclamations of “It’s so big!” and “wow, I wish mine looked like that!”  But once you get past the easy double entendres, you settle in to an amazing weekend. 

It was a TON of cool, creative dudes all enjoying eachother’s company with a common denominator:  nearly four months of beard.  If you haven’t done it yet, seriously, check out  Mackle does such a great job running that site, and we have such an incredible time participating, trust me, there are some awesome pictures to check out.

We rented out a bowling alley (actually rented out a bowling alley… thanks guys…send burney home)  and that was sick.  Unfortunately, we were too late to rent out the WHOLE thing, so two lanes were actually for a six year girl’s birthday party.  Yeah… you should have seen them.  About five little girls and their parent’s looking down the barrel of two hundred beard freaks.  I’m not certain, but I think Oliver may have actually eaten one of the parents. 

Now, some of my peers may claim that I’m making this up:  but I’ll go to my grave believing it either happened, or was a hallucination brought on by a sub-standard bowling alley hamburger.  There was a fight, much like West Side Story, between a group of beard-o’s like myself and a bunch of frat guy lookin’ fellas in the bowling alley parking lot. 

Honestly... I'm the one in the middle.

After we shook off the dust of our fight, we went to Mercy Lounge in Nashville for a delicious taco buffet, more beer, and soft serve icecream (which is AWESOME for hundreds of bearded fella’s).  Also, several bands played, each of which having some connection to Whiskerino.  My personal favorite being Yea Big and Kid Static… (although it was Miguelito and Kid Static that night… both of whom Whiskerino’d).  And one of our growers code named JustJamey did a rap ABOUT whiskerino which was fierce. 

I'm in there somewhere. Most of the Beards at Mercy Lounge. The famous Mackle is front and center.

It was all a sight to see.  Trust me, if you weren’t there… you missed out.  Tomorrow we will review my goose eating experience, which was not tasty but strangely cathartic.  Feels good to be back…


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The Return

Been busy?  Me too.  But Oliver is in full swing.  Under 250 days to go.  I have stuff to tell you.  Personal stuff.  Whiskerino Stuff.  Throwdown Stuff.  Funny stuff.  Just lots of stuff.  And the return in imminent.  I’m so sorry I’ve been away… but the wait is almost over.  I make it WORK tomorrow.

me and oliver... gettin ready for the epic return to bloginess.


It will be worth the wait.  SPOILER ALERT:  I ate some goose, and it was delicious.


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Oatmeal Cream Pies


  So, my love of Chipotle has been well-documented on this blog.  I also feel that I have properly illustrated my appreciation for bacon.  Frankly, if I wouldn’t end up a disgusting rolly-polly of a human being, I would eat very little else.

Unfortunately, man cannot live on Chipotle and bacon alone.  Particularly not with a big beard.  Oliver is particularly inconvenient for burrito consumption.  Anything that is bigger than my mouth creates bite-size problems.  Namely that I get a sizeable bite of moustache hair with every delicious morsel. 

Despite this hazard, I will continue to eat things of any size I choose.  But my real cause here is to mention a third spoke in the trinity of Evan’s diet. 


I once drove from Cincinnati to Denver with my sister surviving on NOTHING but Oatmeal Cream Pies and Mt. Dew.  While I have grown past my misguided love of the Dew, Oatmeal Cream Pies are eternal. 

Plus, they have oatmeal.  So they aren’t just good, they are good for you.  Additionally they promote healthy facial hair growth.  Wilford Brimley was the Quaker Oats guy for years, and he had a delightful moustache.  And was physically fit.  And he lived on a boat and had tons of fun in the movie Cocoon.  Conclusion?  Anything with oatmeal in it HAS to be awesome. Except a plain old bowl of oatmeal.  That’s pretty bland and sucky.

Told Ya

Secondary conclusion… I like Oatmeal Cream Pies.  Haven’t had one in a while? Do yourself a favor and buy one at your neighborhood convenience store.  They are probably located near the Moon Pies (also delicious) and the Zingers or Ho-Hos.  So, you know, the health food section.


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Oliver’s Growthspurt

Since I typed in the title of this blog post, I’ve been thinking about it.  Is growthspurt one word?  It looks funny.  And yet, the word “spurt”  by itself is also laugh-inducing.

Now, I haven’t posted in several days, and I have heard the outraged complaints of my loyal readers.  I’m sorry.  I wil do my best not to let it happen again.  I considered making up a story about being away on a covert assassination attempt in order to rescue a struggling third-world nation from a tryrannical (likely cannibalistic) dictator.  But that would have been false.  I do that sort of thing from time to time, but not on this occasion.  Really, I’ve just been busy, tired, and feeling un-creative. 

Ok, so, the story at hand.  Oliver has grown impressively during my absence.

Like I said...

He is in the puberty stages of development, really.  We are on Day 90 of 365.  And like any pubescent male, Oliver has been pretty moody.  From day to day he takes on different shapes, with different angles.  Somedays he’s fluffy, some day’s he’s frizzy.  It’s kinda creepy. 

Also like any teen, women are discovering him.  I shan’t go into details about my personal life, but I will mention that Oliver attracts quite a bit of attention.  Most of that attention is the “uhh, dude, that’s a pretty big freakin’ beard you’ve got there” type.  But every now and then a young woman will strike up a conversation with me that is, maybe not flirty… but definitely FRIENDLY. 

When this happens, I admit my own anti-beard bias.  I know… it stuns me too!  But when a girl seems a bit friendly to me, I think… this chick is crazy.  Doesn’t she see the topiary on my face?  I’m grotesque!  I mean, I love Oliver, and will continue to cultivate him, but I don’t exactly see him as a chick magnet. 

Further research will go into this.  And tomorrow night’s post will have the more familiar prose-like story-telling format.  Tonight I just wanted to get my feet wet again.  I’ve missed you.


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shortest post ever





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