I need a new look

Yes folks, tis the winter of our discontent and I am growing restless. I feel the need for a change. A certain quelque chose, a piquancy that has been missing from my ensemble. But how? How to turn this wallflower into a steamy hothoose (that's Scotch for 'hothouse,' mwah ha ha!) blossom?

I need to spruce up my shit, peeps. And here's how!



Si, amigos! It is I! Scrappy IT Whiz and general Mr. Fix-It! It has taken some time for me to grow this monster of a beard, but by gum- I'm fucking glad I did. It is somewhat akin to a flesh-eating virus, and makes each day a new adventure! And the ladies love it as well. I have never gotten so much ass in my life.

Whhhoooo! Even WRITING about such a beard gives me the willies. It's as if that beard has invaded my soul and rendered me... barren. Yep, BARREN. Like the blasted heath of the Bronte sisters, or a cinema at a midnight showing of 'Sgt. Bilko.' Does that make sense? Thought so.

Anywhoooo, on the theme of My New Look, I have been dabbling a bit with the 'brainy' look. Since I refuse to leave the house with my glasses on (we're talking Simon from The Chipmunks here, people- minus the implied intelligence) I have had to resort to other indicators of a healthy helping of grey matter. Cue the fucking HELLSTORM:



Yipesters! That's a face only a mother could love. At least he's clearly a musical genius... and a true candidate for the piano keyboard scarf if I ever saw one! I can almost see it, in a sepulchral form, wrapping itself around his neck while he sleeps and eventually becoming part of his FUCKING SKIN and controlling his MIND. OMG- have I just basically written the screenplay for the best film EVER? The answer is clearly yes. If Jackie Fucking Chan and J-Love Hewitt can make a film called 'The Jacket' (yes, I know, I totally have busted myself) I am going to make The Piano Keyboard Scarf. I'll have my people talk to your people.

Errrrmmm right.

By the way, have I told you that lately I have been feeling a bit dowdy, frumpsters and fugs? Nothing says swashbuckling like a bit of BANDITO!!!



I sneak into your window at night, jasmine on the breeze. My moustache tickles your cheek. You smile in your sleep. Dios mio you are beautiful. But it is not to be, querida. Like an owl, I fly by night, no ties can bind me, no chains can hold me... I must roam- a prairie wolf... a lonesome lover. Silencio. Shhhhhh.

Yup, it's s happening. Picante!

Speakin' o' picante:

Last but not least in my pool of possibilities for Freeman's New Look:



Alberto, Pug of Love.

Don't mind my penis, it sticks out sometimes. Right now I'm just feeling a bit quiet. Smooches.