Tuesday, May 26, 2009

Paging Mr. Fur Face

Ever wanted your own commemorative gold pan? Enjoy fishing for salmon? Have your own beard stylist?

If so, then you should be extremely disappointed that the 2009 World Beard and Moustache Championships already happened without you.

And that's real too bad, because there was surely enough categories for you to win at least one major award.

Ever found yourself supine on the damp, underwear-strewn floor of your parents' basement, stoned halfway to Jupiter, temporarily blind from Video Game Overdose (VGO), idly sliding a Slim Jim back and forth through the gap in your front teeth, wondering with what the road to a championship is paved?

Well, then you're welcome:
[This year's champion David] Traver, who is 43 and works as a driver for the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs, got into facial hair competition locally about 10 years ago with the Mr. Fur Face competition during Fur Rendezvous. After that, he got involved with the South Central Alaska Beard and Moustache Club, which bid to bring the international championships to Anchorage this year -- beating out Liechtenstein.

With his beard stylist, Ledjha Carson, Traver months ago started brainstorming a beard shape that was "out of the box," he said. They considered eagle wings, moose antlers and a sled dog team before settling on the snowshoe. It took Carson 90 minutes to weave it the day of the competition.

"She wanted it right. She was very meticulous," he said. "But my neck is still stiff."

(courtesy Alaska Daily News)

So...I guess it takes not only the ability to grow facial hair, but also the common sense to hire a beard stylist to do all the work.

Huh. Maybe I should begin preparations for my victory in Trondheim 2011...any cutting-edge beard stylists out there wanna join Team Goodtime pro-bono?

Because I don't want to just think outside the box--I wanna turn that box inside-out and upside down, hammer it into a ninja star, launch it into the future to hone its edge on the stubborn skulls of space robots, send it back in time to let a dinosaur kiss it for luck, and then drop it on Norway like a goddamn neutron-bomb hangover-turd straight from the furious bowels of Thor himself!



1 comment:

LiteralDan said...

So I guess, then, that rules out anything "cute"?