Hair today gone tomorrow...

They say a Nation can show her might but for this she has to fight. Who are 'they'? And why do they keep saying things? Kirsten Dunst did manage to satiate a part of my curiosity when she said that 'they' are the inimitable collective or something of the sort in Elizabethtown - a silly romantic flick starring the chick Orlando Bloom.

That reminds me of facial hair. Basically, of guys who need to keep facial hair to constantly restate their fledgling manhood. I know of at least two of the male species who are like that - Aftab Shivdasani and Abhishek Bachchan. And not only am I not in the habit of mentioning anyone by their names on this blog for the very simple reason that even my whining gives them a higher rating on search engines, I don't ever wear a habit either. Whether that statement is grammatically correct is questioning (I have read and re-read it a thousand times over and I still am not certain of its grammatical integrity) but I am too darn fogged up to reconstruct. So it shall stand as it is, which is a first. It is also a testimony to the standards I am now willing to put up with. Perhaps five and a half months of celibacy does that to a man.

I don't like hair of any kind unless they happen to be on the head of bald women. Since I have not come across bald women other than those who have gone bald of their own volition, I can't say that I like hair. I certainly don't like armpit hair (really, what was Julia Roberts thinking when she wore that lovely dress on unshaved armpits!), and I don't want to talk about hair in the nether regions. I shall only say this to all the women out there, 'if you don't want men to treat you like animals then please don't look like one down there'.

Being a man has its advantages. For one, we can pee standing up. We can pretty much pee anywhere we want. And we can pee just for the heck of having a contest. Not like I am saying that I do any of these things or even that I do not. But that is about the only upside of being a man. Whoever says it is a man's world has no idea what she is talking about. Look around you. Who does the world belong to? Brock Lesner or Jessica Simpson's perfect breasts?

And with that, I rest my case.