Oh yes! I'm turning into a Billy, a fine-looking one at that (whooosh!). Thanks to my month-old goatee. It's hard to sport one, though. It itches occasionally and I look like an Abu Sayyaf hostage in mornings. It's also high maintainance. It needs shampooing and a little grooming.

Still, I like it. I was hesitant at first. It is a by-product of laziness and procrastination, to begin with. I also skipped shaving the chin area not on purpose but in haste. I have this habit of shaving at the last minute, especially on occasions when time is sparse, and so I end up shaving less (the upper lip area, to be exact) and leaving the rest as they are (the rest being facial hair. I like all else a bit bushy, if you know what I mean…).

Thus, the goatee.

I feel different wearing one. I feel bad. In a good way. Labo 'no?

Okay, I feel like… uhm, Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Carribean without the grease and eyeliner. Dangerously gwapo (naks!).

Don't scowl. Give me a break. I am Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes, Dilbert, Milhouse van Houten, Peter Parker (minus THE alter ego) since kindergarten. If sporting a goatee is a phase, it's definitely a welcome phase for me.

Well, at least until I get tired of it (or until G is amused). 

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