Person one: And the secretary said her boss and the big boss were both freaking out and cranky.
Person two: Uh huh.
Person one: So I wasn’t the only one. Maybe there was something in the air making menopausal men crazy.
Person two: Uh huh. So anyway, what’s-her-face said to me…
Person one: Can you talk to her without thinking of her eyebrows? I mean, you and I, together we have average eyebrows, but because we have average eyebrows to begin with. She and her husband do too, though — I mean, she has that freaky cyborgian no-eyebrow look going, and man, his look like they just crawled onto his face at night to build coccoons. Or that they’ll start burning soon and God will talk out of them
Person two: I never notice people’s eyebrows.
Person one: And that other couple we met. I can’t remember her eyebrows, so I assume they were within a normal range. But her husband’s!
Person two: Bushy?
Person one: Like two squirrel tails. Like antennae. Like…
Person two: You sure talk a lot for it being not even six in the morning yet.
Person one: Don’t they see it? Why don’t guys my age trim their eyebrows? Seriously. Just a little clipping now and then. Nothing drastic.
Person two: [Sets teacup on table thoughtfully] You. Pluck. Your. Eyebrows?
Person one: Huh? Pluck? Me? No. No way. No, no.
Person two: Uh huh.
Person one: A little trim now and then…
bwah. i was thinking that i’d finally achieved some zen balance with petr, because he has the wacky coming out to attack you eyebrows, and i have the bald face.
however now i think we are fodder for someone else’s over-caffeinated early morning obsessive thinking. not that i’m less satisfied with that version; it’s just different.
ahahahaaaaa mr rogers with gorgeously landscaped eyebrows ahhahahahaaaaaaaa
perfect ratio of salt to pepper. come over to my neighborhood some time, i’ll show you my train set. and we can check the mail.
After a certain, ahem, age, one’s barber should be encouraged to go after eyebrows and ears. Although I do wish that my barber wouldn’t try to invade my ears with an electric clipper. Ouch! (But dare I complain? No.)