Don't call it a comeback...

I was going to try and work the word “beard” into the title of this post, but I figured it wasn’t fair to the memory of LL Cool J to have him be associated with something so... atrocious.


"Deepest, bluest, my head is like a sharks fin"

I’m sure all of our readers and dedicated female beard fetishists have some very pressing questions. Rather than actually ask you what you might want to know, i’ll make the questions up myself and answer them.

1. Why did you leave?
- The extended hiatus of Mr.Hab was my fault. To be honest, Mr.Hab was not going to last forever (I mean seriously, how much can you write about a chick with a beard?) but, it wasn’t supposed to end so abruptly.

So this is what went down.

I heard a loud, angry stomping coming up the stairs. I figured it was probably just one of my three fat roommates coming home, but then I got a distinct whiff of Jersey girl (Aqua Net, fake Tommy Girl perfume, and White Castle sliders) and I knew it was the beard. She was in a rage- even her beard hairs were trembling. Then she said it “... I saw your web site.”

2. OMG! REALLY?
- No. Actually I just moved.

3. Where did you go?
- I can’t say. But, if you see a really tall white looking Puerto Rican girl and a short girl with really long hair who looks fresh off the indian reservation- that’s probably us. Most of the time we’re stumbling down the street “singing” to songs from Making the Band 3. It sounds something like this “Ooooh nanana im up in the club and uhhh nanana dadad ummmm..... OOOH!” We also like to throw in some boom-cats, but I usually end up hurting myself so we stopped that part.



Right: Laurie Ann mid boom-cat. Left: Taquita mesmerized by the boom. Confused by the cat.


4. Will the ‘Hab ever be back?
- This a tricky one. I now live thousands of miles away from the beard. Thus making breaking beard news updates kind of difficult. The area in which I currently reside is breathtakingly beautiful and provides many cultural activities including (but not limited to) getting drunk off of 375 ml of Cisco. But we both still miss our little beardie. Not like that. What I mean is, I can’t even begin to write a comprehensive list the things she’s doing right now that make me wish I was there. If you want some highlights though here you go- the pizza shop job, living in a 1br apt with 3 people and a cat (she’s horribly allergic), and let’s not forget her boyfriend. Yeah. The progeria dude. There is a enough material here to last who knows... another month!

The ‘Hab might be back though. That is, if Tammi and I ever figure out how to record both ends of a cell phone conversation. We’ve been calling the beard and leaving her messages full of thinly veiled insults. And she still calls us back. Seriously, we need to figure out how to do that really soon.

Other than that we’ve been throwing around one pound bags of Skittles at 3am, getting put on academic probation, making friends with hot dog vendors, drunkenly revealing the existence of this website, getting our vehicles urinated on at Jack In The Box, watching infomercials staring Erik Estrada at 6am and expanding our ever growing vocabulary of racial slurs. It’s been good.

I can't grow another beard on my own

I thought the night had reached it's peak when Tammi, myself and about 6 other people were in a kitchen screaming the lyrics to Nelsons' "(I Can't Live Without Your) Love and Affection" and erratically shredding on air guitars.



Can you blame me for thinking that was the moment I had lived my worthless life for?

Just when I thought I could die happy I see Tammi running towards me simultaneously hyperventalating and laughing uncontrollably. Whilst foaming at the mouth, she got out the words we had been waiting to hear:

"THE BEARD GOT PULLED OVER."

Let us refer to the entry dated Friday, April 22, 2005 entitled "The Triple Threat Pt.3."

That's right. An actual cop took time out of his busy day of shooting and beating black people to pull over our bearded friend. The details are still sketchy because we have not made beard contact since that night. I think she's avoiding us because she probably doesn't want to hear us call her a fucking idiot. From what Tammi recalls she got pulled over, was told her license was suspended, proceeded to ""play dumb" (really?) and was lucky enough to have the cop NOT arrest her ginormous ass. He let her redneck friend Krystal (that's right, with a K) drive her home. And by home I mean the bar. Facing upwards of $500 in fines she went to a bar. Big ups to junior college.

Now I, having beard on the brain and a stomach full of Savon Rum and B^e, started to do what I do best under the influence and say things I really shouldn't. We have not spoken much about the beards object of affection, so to make a long story short- he's gay. Now, please don't think I go around accusing everyone of being gay. The fact of the matter is this guy greets me every time with "Hey GIRL!" and Saturday night he told me my jacket was "really cute." Oh yeah, his past three hookups include a fat girl, an even fatter girl, and the beard. You do the math.

Anybeards, i'm talking to this guy and I blurt out "hey- you FUCKED in my bathroom!" Because really, he fucked the beard in my goddamn bathroom. Something i'm still bitter about. Something I still need to seek intensive therapy over. He apologized and then I said "hey did you know she has a beard?"

...

Tammi nearly fell over (later she actually would fall over, as she tripped over a keg) and he just laughed. First of all, would a straight man laugh? Listen i'm not a guy, but something tell me if I was a straight man who had that bomb dropped on him i'd probably take the requisite "Crying Game" shower. I think he was lying to me because he was really laughing pretty hard and not saying anything. It was the same reaction we got from her friends a few months ago. I told him he probably couldn't tell she had a beard because he has a beard as well and it prevented it from feeling the intense friction of a female beard. I asked my friend to confirm the existence of the beard and he backed me up with a resounding "Yeah."

Luckily I did not start shouting out "VISIT MYROOMMATEHASABEARD.COM" but, I did have the same conversation with someone else. Some positive things about this experience is that i've taken a new step in my alcoholism as I am no longer revealing secrets of my own while inebriated and my extreme bitchery will probably not be revealed.

Mr.Hab will live another day.

Beard hunting

As T-Nutz previously stated we are attending a party tonight and much to our chagrin, the beard will be there. While it will be nice to see her embarrass herself, as she ultimately always does, it's kind of a downer that somehow she got invited too. She got'invited by the fat-girl populous if that says anything. And i'm not talking about my other roommates. She has a whole arsenal of fat friends.

Tonight, though, does hold a bounty of Hab Hunting opportunities as we are inviting our friend who up until a few weeks ago was an ex-friend. He gained ex-friend status by revealing to the Beard that we said this psychotic ugly fuck friend of his (who for reasons that are can only be explained by his current state of psychosis was interested in the beard) was "too good for her because she has a beard." When the beard approached us we had no other choice but to lie about the complete accuracy of that statement and cut ties with our friend. We actually were pissed that he repeated what we said, but we probably would have forgiven him on the spot simply for the fact that he is a flamboyantly closeted homosexual (so we believe). Trying to save a little face (hair-less face) we begrudgingly broke off ties. He waltzed back into our good graces by giving us a few drunken phone calls. Girls like us find that kind of shit utterly endearing. A drunken phone call was returned and our gay (unconfirmed) friend was back in our lives.

Imagine us and a gay male (pure speculation). Mix in alcohol, a chick with a beard, and a camera for good measure. My friends... I think we have a party on our hands.

And the Beard Goes On....

Ok, so besides an adventure with the Beard at the Beardcake Factory on Tuesday night, there hasn't been anything incredibly interesting in the life of a hairy-faced femme (hopefully, that will all change this Saturday, when the Beard will be attending a "White Trash-themed" party along with myself and eevs). So anyway, you have all heard detailed life-accounts of this hairy bitch, as well as the monster that terroizes us with her insane love for and devotion to food. But we haven't really elaborated enough on our third raunchy-roomie, Lazy. Her nickname should give it away: she's a living, breathing, incompetent pile of shit. Eevs and I had a 3-minute conversation today as to where Lazy would rank on our personal lists of "Most Stupid Person I've Ever Met". I rated her a 3 and Eevs, suprisingly, rated her an impressive 5. This girl is a moron (she even possess and fully-utilizes the well-known "Idiot Laugh"). She has no goals or aspirations for anything in life (hmmm, where have i heard THAT before?), except if it involves boys or boys (neither of which have any interest in her, unless of course she's on a dating website where she posts warped, outdated pictures of herself in order to get guys to chat with her). Oh yeah--- AND SHE'S FAT. Yes, like the Food Monster, this bitch also has no control over her eating habits or herself. You want proof? Well my friend, you are in luck:



Hold on a second, I think I just threw up a little bit in my mouth. ..

For all of you out there who aren't used to stockpiling weeks worth of empty DQ Blizzard cups, Wendy's Bacon Cheeseburger wrappers, bowls of crusting-over Hamburger Helper and molding apple juice, this is exactly what it would look like if you so chose to. Eevs and I discovered this mess a little less than an hour ago when we went into her bedroom in search of the plastic cereal bowl they've been using for awhile now to catch the leaking toilet bowl water from said-toilet. And the worse part of this mess, besides the fact that this obese bitch is huge and wears extremely tight clothes, is that this fast-food landfill is located directly by the head of her bed!!! I'm not making this shit up folks; who could? It is utterly revolting and seriously makes me want to KILL, either her or myself, it doesn't matter. Just get me THE FUCK out of here.

Support Our Beards

So i'm reading big daddy and I see a blurb about "support our troops" magnets. Big daddy, we feel you. Those $3 bracelets at 7-11? $1 goes to the troops. Does it cost $2 to make that silicone shit? Why don't you just donate $3 instead of buying some stupid bracelet to prove to everyone how American you are?!?

I know Mr.Hab is not about politics. It's about beards. So for that reason I give you the solution to all the worlds problems:




Now this is something that might actually HELP someone. Bearded females don't need donations, unless of course its Nair or some other kind of depilatory. My vehicle will be a vessel to be used for social change! To garner good will between all of mankind- even trolleqse bearded females.

It's about understanding people. Seriously.

Beard the Hand That Feeds

When I originally found out that three fugmigos were staying in our current apartment when T-Nutz and I left I was a little upset. First of all, I paid 1/3 of the deposit on this place and me signing the lease over means the lease is simply extended and I wouldn't be getting my deposit back when I left. Secondly, I really wanted them to move into the slum village referred to as "THE VORTEX TO HELL" on apartment ratings.

Being the vindictive bitch that I am I considered staging a protest and refusing to sign the papers, but then I made a list of the things that would need to be repaired before any deposit was returned. It includes:

-patio screen does not slide
-holes in bathroom ceiling
-hair dye stains on bathroom wall
-34827 holes in the wall
-door stop missing
-cracked shelf in fridge
-bleach stains on carpet
-innumerable other carpet stains
-fucked up doorknob

Many of these things were broken by me so I like the idea of this even more. And the apartment is in a general state of dirtiness that would take about 3 hours to clean. Probably 5 since i'd be doing it by myself. Like I said, these bitches are nasty.

Realizing that if I signed over the lease that I would not have to clean and would no longer be responsible for this shit that is probably going to leave them in the hole, I happily signed. But it doesn't stop here. Not only do I enjoy inflicting financial pain on people, but we can't forget about the inevitable psychological distress we need to unleash upon these fat ugly fucks before we leave.

So what i'm asking you, Habibians, is to give me some ideas as to how I can make this apartment the vortex to hell these bitches really deserve. Tammi suggested releasing a mouse the day we leave or cutting the wires to the washer and dryer the day we leave, but those ideas are really fucking retarded. Do not send me ideas like that. I'm going for something a little more subtle and is going to to damage overtime that cannot necessarily be tracked back to me.

The one good idea I just came up with is to take a crap in the water tank in the toilet. Beards and fatties alike do not understand the workings of modern plumbing so they would probably think it was a floater from hell.

Help a non-bearded girl out.

This one goes out to all the beard-less females...

That-sa Beardy!


For all you skeptics, that aint no ordinary double-chin. That shadowing on-and-around the 2nd neck is real, honest-to-fug beard hair!!! It's hard to see, but if you can spot the chip on the front tooth, that's the work of yours truly. Take a drunken Tammi, place a Natural Ice 32-oz in her hand and have her flail her arms around a bit and voila!--instant damage.