Although most times I am a shining beacon of everything good on this earth I, like Stalin, have a fatal flaw. Unlike Stalin however, my flaw isn't killing shittons of Russians. My flaw is that I'm gullible. I'm so gullible that I get suspicious when I shouldn't be and gullible when I should be suspicious. It's truly a cruel cycle. The height of my gullibility and the reason that I live in fear of the buzz of an electric razor is because of my trip to America.
For those of you newer to Baked Beans, back in the summer of 2014 I went to the Land of Diabeetus to take a creative writing course in Columbia University. That part was awesome but it's not actually the relevant part, what happened afterwards is the important part. I travelled to America with a longtime friend of mine, Zooz...
...and directly after our courses we were to spend a week with his extended family in Washington D.C. During that time, in a way too moronic to mention, I had accidentally very nearly almost exposed his chain-smoking to his aunt. Although most of the trip was on good terms, from that point onwards Zooz was in a mood for vengeance.
For those of you who've seen the older posts, you may have noticed that when I've drawn myself, I've always drawn myself with long hair. At the time of this writing my hair actually looks like that because I like having long hair. It's my lion's mane and I love it. It makes me feel like the model of a shampoo commercial. Zooz knows this and like a villain in a Looney Tunes cartoon this thought grows into a scheme designed to deprive me of my source of joy.
After the week spent with his family, Zooz and I decided to tour a few American universities since we were rising Juniors at the time and the level of higher education in Amman is comparable in educational value to being pelted with styrofoam pellets for 14 hours every day. One of the universities in question that we decided to visit was Harvard University.
Lemme take a break for a moment here. I gotta say that Harvard University was the biggest letdown ever for me. I expected Hogwarts and got what looked like a Victorian-era factory complex turned into a university at the last second. I've seen architecture with more class in the meat packing industry than Harvard motherfucking University. Although the classes are awesome (or so I've heard) and the interior of these buildings is stunning, the actual look of the buildings makes the campus look like the less appealing one of my testicles
Anyway, Harvard was special because a friend from home, Joq le Coq, was taking a summer course there and staying in the dorms so he offered to smuggle us in (technically illegally).
Problem is that there was a form he could've signed to get us in completely legitimately (and we'd get a mattress) but instead he decided "ah fuck them", faced expulsion from the university, smuggled us in through the window on the ground floor and made us sleep in a closet.
Anyway Zooz was really, really good friends with Joq. Like to the point where they almost share the same personality at times and at one point they decided that they were going to use the ruse of throwing a party in order to get me to cut my hair. At the time I was excessively focused on getting with a girl and the bastards knew that if they threw a party and convinced me that A) girls would be there, and, B) I'd have a chance with them if I got my hair cut, I would probably dtich the mane and get my hair cut, even if it meant sacrificing my grandmother to Satan. So they invited the people and started the process of subtle persuasion. It took them two hours two convince me to get my hair cut at a barbershop by which time it was 9 PM and all the barbershops had closed for the night. At this point, to this day I don't know how, they convinced me that they could cut hair.
They walked into a pharmacy and bought two pairs of scissors, illegally snuck Zooz and I back into the dorms of Harvard University, sat me on a chair in the bathroom with my hair draped over a sink and started chopping. Zooz and Joq did the actual cutting while another guy filmed it. I probably should've gotten suspicious right then and there but they'd already started at that point and it was too late. The bastards' accounts vary as to who cut out a fucking massive clump of my hair and gave me a bald spot but before I knew what the fuck had happened Zooz went into the bedrooms and took Joq's roommate's electric razor. The roommate was this Turkish motherfucker who played League of Legends all day, practically bathed in his own sweat 24/7 and had a case of acne that made the plague look positively delightful by comparison. Also he probably used the fucking razor for his diseased pits. 20 seconds later I heard laughing.
Next thing I knew I was bald.
For those of you newer to Baked Beans, back in the summer of 2014 I went to the Land of Diabeetus to take a creative writing course in Columbia University. That part was awesome but it's not actually the relevant part, what happened afterwards is the important part. I travelled to America with a longtime friend of mine, Zooz...
For those of you who've seen the older posts, you may have noticed that when I've drawn myself, I've always drawn myself with long hair. At the time of this writing my hair actually looks like that because I like having long hair. It's my lion's mane and I love it. It makes me feel like the model of a shampoo commercial. Zooz knows this and like a villain in a Looney Tunes cartoon this thought grows into a scheme designed to deprive me of my source of joy.
After the week spent with his family, Zooz and I decided to tour a few American universities since we were rising Juniors at the time and the level of higher education in Amman is comparable in educational value to being pelted with styrofoam pellets for 14 hours every day. One of the universities in question that we decided to visit was Harvard University.
Lemme take a break for a moment here. I gotta say that Harvard University was the biggest letdown ever for me. I expected Hogwarts and got what looked like a Victorian-era factory complex turned into a university at the last second. I've seen architecture with more class in the meat packing industry than Harvard motherfucking University. Although the classes are awesome (or so I've heard) and the interior of these buildings is stunning, the actual look of the buildings makes the campus look like the less appealing one of my testicles
Anyway, Harvard was special because a friend from home, Joq le Coq, was taking a summer course there and staying in the dorms so he offered to smuggle us in (technically illegally).
Anyway Zooz was really, really good friends with Joq. Like to the point where they almost share the same personality at times and at one point they decided that they were going to use the ruse of throwing a party in order to get me to cut my hair. At the time I was excessively focused on getting with a girl and the bastards knew that if they threw a party and convinced me that A) girls would be there, and, B) I'd have a chance with them if I got my hair cut, I would probably dtich the mane and get my hair cut, even if it meant sacrificing my grandmother to Satan. So they invited the people and started the process of subtle persuasion. It took them two hours two convince me to get my hair cut at a barbershop by which time it was 9 PM and all the barbershops had closed for the night. At this point, to this day I don't know how, they convinced me that they could cut hair.
They walked into a pharmacy and bought two pairs of scissors, illegally snuck Zooz and I back into the dorms of Harvard University, sat me on a chair in the bathroom with my hair draped over a sink and started chopping. Zooz and Joq did the actual cutting while another guy filmed it. I probably should've gotten suspicious right then and there but they'd already started at that point and it was too late. The bastards' accounts vary as to who cut out a fucking massive clump of my hair and gave me a bald spot but before I knew what the fuck had happened Zooz went into the bedrooms and took Joq's roommate's electric razor. The roommate was this Turkish motherfucker who played League of Legends all day, practically bathed in his own sweat 24/7 and had a case of acne that made the plague look positively delightful by comparison. Also he probably used the fucking razor for his diseased pits. 20 seconds later I heard laughing.
Next thing I knew I was bald.
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| I feel a breeze |
