The Beard Chronicles: Part IV

My need for employment, as referenced in my last entry, has been temporarily satisfied, although I can still taste the split pea they served at the soup kitchen. (Did you ever wonder...where is the steak kitchen? Or the pizza kitchen? What happens if you are allergic to soup...hypothetically?) I have begun a stint as an assistant to a local auctioneer. What? I know, right? How awesome!

Now, before you start writing me, asking for money, telling me you have a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for me investing in a phonics program for cats or miracle growth potion for female soul patches, let me tell you - this isn't the glorious position you think it is.

So far, my job list has included the following: unloading the possessions of deceased people from a white moving truck, cleaning out the last possessions from what was certainly a former drug house, and holding up items during an auction to a group of geriatrics while smiling and posing like Vanna White. Tomorrow I'm cleaning out an old barn that hasn't been entered in at least five years in a small country town on a Saturday morning. Livin' the dream, baby. Just livin' the dream.

It is a unique experience that has provided me with some comical moments, such as an old man buying a large stack of antique picture frames for a $1.00, and when the auctioneer said, "You got a real steal there," he responded with, "Yeah, cause firewood is expensive right now!" And he wasn't joking.

I don't know what my pay is, or when I will get paid, but it keeps me busy and allows me to do something that will one day be a great story when I'm on Inside the Actor's Studio with James Lipton's rotting corpse. "Yeah James, I draw a lot of inspiration from the people I met while working in a small town auction house. It really provides me with the characterization I needed for my last Oscar-winning role as a struggling gay auctioneer in a dying Midwestern town." The auctioneer, by the way, is not gay. He is actually a very, very nice guy. But there has to be something in there to make that an Oscar-caliber role.

I chalk up this latest bit of fortune to the other recent development in my life: my new beard. In the past, I have attempted, unsuccessfully, to grow a beard of Chuck Norris-ian proportions. But every time, something trivial blocks that attempt, like looking professional for a job or large bald patches. Or the scraggly bits of sad hair are depression induced, left to pube up my face by sheer laziness and lack of motivation. But not anymore. There is nothing standing between me and bearded glory!

Although it seems my life is nearly complete, full of overwhelming joy and happiness, I'm still on the hunt for the next big thing (no, I am not scouting for porn...not yet. Ron Jeremy, call me!) Do you have any ideas? Good. Keep them. You might need them later in life...