More About Eyebrows -- MY Eyebrows

April 6, 2011: If you're like me -- and let's hope, in the name of God, that you're not -- you're ridiculously consumed with your appearance. That's not to say you (or I) necessarily have a good appearance, but just that you're consumed with it.

I'm not sure from where it stems -- my mother, perhaps (whom I hold responsible for everything from my undying love of Glen Campbell, to my unnatural aversion toward women who knit) ... or maybe my father, (whose parental love often expresses itself through pedantic assessments of my hair, weight, and skin quality) ... or maybe it's just growing up in affluent Westport, Connecticut, with the beautiful people (or at least some of the beautiful people, because a lot of the residents here look like Lord of the Rings characters) ...

Whatever the reason, the fact is that I am, as a rule, quite concerned with my appearance. (And you well may ask, if I care so much about how I look, then why don't I bathe more often, or wash my socks? Well, that's none of your business, and if my wife put you up to asking that, I'm going to ask you right now to withdraw your membership at this site and go back to studying Internet pornography with your pants down.) And, see, now you made me lose my place ... AGAIN!

But, ah, yes, The Point: Simply, the reason I'm bringing this up is a new, growing concern I have about my eyebrows, which have drastically changed over the last few years. You see, once upon a time I prided these soft -- dare I say caterpillar-like -- eyebrows, solely composed of supple, down-like hairs, all flowing effortlessly across their assigned spots, like the swaying wheat stalks of a Kansas afternoon, set upon by the fragrant prairie winds of Willa Cather summer. (I mean, can you tell how much I liked these eyebrows?!) But over the past several years, much to my shock and dismay, I've watched those innocent childhood hairs shed away like the failing fibers on some hostile vagrant's decaying lapel. And, instead, over the past few months especially, I've seen a sinister new crop of these awful, harsh, thick, ugly, black hairs grow in threatening strides across my very forehead, like ... I don't know what! (And I'm a writer, so imagine how hard it is for me to duck out on a potential metaphor!)

I'm not sure where this will end, but I'm very disturbed to see how these new hairs have started turning up a bit at the end, too, giving me a sort of leprechaun appearance, like Samuel Beckett or that horrendous clown in that old French movie. Needless to say, I've plucked several, despite the excruciating pain (and my philosophical disapproval, as you regular Blah-ugh! readers know, of anyone altering their eyebrows through butchery or chicanery). A few others I've even had to trim, and that was no small task, given I had to use a toenail clipper to do it.

I'm not sure where I was going with this, but I think it's important we all understand that looks are everything (as my mother often emphasized), and if you're like me, and have gotten by -- to this high station in life -- by your remarkable looks alone, it's only imaginable to see what a disillusioning disappointment it can be to suddenly find your fine features, face and finery put into such precarious jeopardy through the insidious vine-like growth of some very unstable eyebrow hairs ...

And I never thought it could happen to me ... And it did! Be warned!!

On Eyebrows and Butter

February 22, 2011: I awoke this early morn with two ideas competing for my attention (and No, E.J., you weren't one of them ... this time!) -- 1) How the consumption of butter is greatly misunderstood and the population misguided on its value, and 2) How (and why) women mutilate their eyebrows.

I've long wondered why the waxing of eyebrows has been pushed to such a weird extreme. By and large, I think most women are much more attractive with eyebrows, and even large, full ones. Instead, it's become common practice for self-conscious girls to wax the shit out of their lids, and far too often it leaves them looking like swollen boxers who stayed too long in the ring.

I marvel at the waxing shops (or whatever they're called) and all the business they make mutilating in the name of fashion. And I marvel at how so many women (sadly) compete to look like other women who aren't that attractive to begin with, and only end up looking worse in the process.

I think my fascination with America's demented eyebrow treatment began with the mysterious popularity of Pamela Sue Anderson, who I long thought had the most awful eyebrows -- veritable pencil lines -- and who, if you take an objective look, actually bears a remarkably disturbing resemblance to the late female impersonator Divine. The slope has slipped since then. Today's beauty sell is asking too much, in my opinion. I want you girls to stop this immediately. I like my chicks to have eyebrows, and not look like Jake LaMotta.

Now, on the issue of butter, like you -- like the league of ladies that's been fooled into believing they need to butcher their eyebrows -- I've habitually taken for granted all the propaganda about clogged arteries and heart stoppage and such. But I'm here to say now -- right here! ... No, over here! ... That it's all lies (at least for me, and I'm no different than you, except my eyebrows may be thicker).

For starters, I've long been a proponent of -- (or is it correct to say "I've long proponentized"?) -- consuming foods according to your cravings (assuming you're eating more than just creampuffs and coffee). I think another great misconception we as a society suffer under (and believe me, when I see some of that awful eyebrow architecture, I do suffer) is a forced belief that some stringent common diet should be adhered to by everyone. Instead, diet should be as individual as our spiritual beliefs, and many of the most notorious food substances need not be shunned like women with bushy eyebrows.

Case in point, I've upped my butter consumption considerably over the past six months and I've never felt better. Ironically, my weight has stablized at a nice number and, even though I had some weird chest pains yesterday when I went walking in the snow, overall I feel terrific.

More importantly, food tastes light years better when substantial amounts of butter are added. My potatoes, pancakes, and cinnamon toast, for instance, all bring me much greater joy when drenched in beautiful butter, as do my eggs, grilled cheese sandwiches, and even my bacon.

In closing, I would like to say that the opinions expressed here were strictly those of the person who gave them. If you found any of this even remotely funny, please contact your local newspaper immediately and insist that they offer me a column, or at least a job in delivery. Otherwise, I hope you learned something of value, namely that every moment you waste reading this stupid Blah-ugh! is time that could be better spent rubbing butter on your eyebrows ... E.J.!