The Hairy Eyeball

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I was determined not to write any more griping posts so that I might hide the fact that I am a crotchety old man, but the result was that I was unable to come up with any post whatsoever.  It would seem I have, as dear Barbara Pym would say, “found my voice” and it is sort of a sniveling whine.  Whatever.

And what would you like to complain about today, mrpeenee?  Well, let me tell ya.  I was spending a quiet evening at the always charming Kabuki Spa, sweating it up in the steam room, getting a muscle splaying massage, and eyeing the other inhabitants.  There were two, count them, two, gorgeous specimens.  You could tell where they were by all the other old men in their immediate orbit trying not to be too obvious about getting an eyeful.

Everyone else in there?  Grizzly, darling, absolutely appalling.  And I fully admit to being one of them.  Being an elder might have some perks, but looks are not among them.  Saggy, with things you didn’t even know you had drooping down, we all look like wore out knickers hung up to dry.  Gravity wins, baby.  It always wins.

Which brings us back to a spa full of wrinkledy old queens.  My people.  But at least I don’t have to worry about being wrinkledy and overly hairy.  Let me be quick to say proudly no one loves hairy men more than me; his hirsute quality was one of things I loved best about R Man.  But there comes a point when you need to get that fur under control.

I’m not talking about the dread manscaping, there’s no need for shaving or waxing, but there’s also no need to appear to be wearing Macy Gray’s afro on your chest.  Just trim it.  Are your pubes on the verge of turning into dreds?  Can you braid the hair on your shoulders?  Does your back have an aura of hair?  Get a trimmer and set it on weed wacker.  I swear some of these queens in the steam room looked like they were holding a goat between their legs.

If you’re looking for some well done hair, might I suggest the following?

Never too hairy

Fearsome Beard

Beard Burn Me

hairy-guy-blends-with-couch

What I’m talking about.

tumblr_nvyx098RYM1u7y94ao1_1280

So very much NOT what I’m talking about.

About mrpeenee

A former bon vivant and terror of a number of New Orleans bars in the mad, gay 1980s, I'm now quietly retired and widowed in San Francisco. I have a crooked nose due to an unfortunate Frisbee accident.

12 responses »

  1. You are as always a gentleman of taste and distinction. But I’m not clicking those links ’til I’m on a home computer, because as dull as it is, I do rather need the employment.

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  2. I like men with a well trimmed clopper otherwise dingleberries can be a huge problem.

    The late Victoria Wood used to trim her bush and leave the mound outside, providing the birds with nesting material. It’s something I’ve always done too.

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    • How very eco-friendly of both of you. One of the problems I had with the denizens of the steam room I was speaking of was that I suspected they may very well have had some woodland creatures nesting in their brush.

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  3. I was a a spa about a month ago, after a massage I went to the steam room. And I wonder when they added the full bear rug. It them occurred to me it was another patron. To think, I also laid naked on it.

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  4. Thank you for the shout out and reminder to refrain from posting those pics of goats between legs that have been so tempting to post. (Note to self….Taste level, I must remember taste level.)

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