There are a lot of things wrong with me. One thing I never have to worry about is my face. Well, there are things about it but never the structure. I compare it to a decrepit old factory. Yeah there are a few shattered windows, some graffiti, and a homeless man urinating somewhere on my backdoor/chin. What I’m really trying to say is that some people out there have really strange faces. Ones worth writing about.
Of course some faces are really odd-looking even from a distance. You think Mr. Met is standing across the parking lot when really it’s some Armenian guy out to run errands at Staples. Who even goes to Staples for office supplies? People without self-control. I’m sure WalMart or Target has much cheaper pens. But going there you convince yourself to buy other things like peanuts and detergent. At least I always do because those are the two items on the way to the register. The bigger a person’s head, the more of the possibility of them having a strange face. It’s really a math thing. Like how the Westboro Baptist Church people have so many children. Don’t they realize that means one will probably end up being a sinning gay? I guess they don’t think very logically in much so I’m sure they’ve never thought that.
(I bet at least two of these kids grow up to own a company specializing in hot pants)
Then there are faces you need to get closer to for the weirdness to be known. Tenth grade was the worst year of my life. I’m pretty sure no person in the history of the world ever had a worse year. Even Jesus was really popular the year he died. I talked to one girl that entire year in school and it was my lesbian gym teacher. Study hall that year a pretty girl sat near me. At least I thought she was pretty. Then she talked to me and I noticed how strange her face looked. I could see the lines where the makeup began and ended. It was like seeing it raining on one side of the street and not the other. Her nose was also kind of strange. I could see an extra trail of eyebrow hair making an escape toward her ears. She had pimples I had never noticed before I think her last name was also that of a pizza chain. That should have been my first hint for the pimple spotting. Most of her facial strangeness was her own fault. I don’t feel bad for talking about her because she never stood up for me, an older male. While her friends Robert and Fat Spanish Kid (a very accurate name) would make fun of me she sat idle. At least I managed to see her for what she really was. A girl with a prostitute’s face.
(Courtney Love having many colors on her face and in her hair. Cameron Diaz has this picture all over her home. She knows one slip up and she’ll turn out like this too)
A few faces have common strange things about them. Usually it’s when anything is plentiful. Too many freckles, too big of a smile, or too much lip skin can mess up a perfectly good face. The two most important parts of the face are the eyes and the chin. Glaring, squinty, sour-puss eyes can be very damaging. Unless you’re Joseph Gordon-Levitt. Then it just makes you look tired. Like you don’t give a damn if nobody really thinks you’re a good actor. A chin should look like a chin. Butt chins are okay. I just have a problem with chins that look like they should be smashing rocks, not being goochy-gooed by my index finger.
(I could find this image yet not one of a baby having its chin tickled. The Internet is officially not safe for children)
Good faces also need a nice head to be placed on. There was a kid I went to school with who I always thought had an oval-shaped head. He’s a Mets fan and cried whenever he would get hurt during recess. Probably because he was afraid the egg on top of his neck had cracked. He was a “hate the face” person. Those people you just look at and despise. He had heavy baggy eyes to go along with his balloon head. I’m pretty sure he invented gelling up the little chunk of hair in the front up. For someone I knew for over 10 years and never talked to, I sure hate him. How could someone who roots for a second-rate team like the Mets be a better athlete than me? Mets fans probably also enjoy pie crust better than the actual filling. Just be a Yankees fan. You’re already an asshole.
(“No need to finish making the pie. This is good enough for me.” – Anonymous Mets Fan)
Ultimately a face is the biggest representation of who we are. Other than our personalities I guess. Now here’s a positive message. Even with a flawed face, you can still be beautiful. You may look like a horse but all that means is that people expect you to be able to be graceful and have a big dick. That’s not so bad. If people say you look like an El Chupacabra then you know that they’re lying. Nobody knows what a real El Chupacabra looks like. Even for those of you out there who look like uglier versions of celebrities have a chance at happiness. Say you’re uglying yourself up for a new film. If a girl asks you for ID for proof that you’re Corky from The Facts of Life, tell her to stop being paranoid. She’ll feel guilty and take a chance. You’ll still be ugly but at least you got to engage in men’s favorite pastime. Lying to women.