Ain’t nothin’ more manly than eatin’ birthday beef jerky whilst wearin’ yer girlfriend’s v-neck ‘cuz you don’t wanna get any of yer own shirts all dirtied up.
On a slightly more serious note, I really do believe a chest hair-themed beef jerky brand could do well financially. “Chest Hair Beef Jerky — a jerky so chock-full o’ manliness it’ll put hair on your chest!” Or something.
That is, essentially, the thesis of this blog. Only, insert the word “my” between “love” and “chest,” and imagine that I’m the one who wrote it instead of you. Then again, why imagine when I can just do the deed for you?
I feel like some people are too stupid to come to the conclusion — of their own volition, I mean — that my blog is sarcastic. Facetious. Satirical entertainment. Not to be taken seriously.
Take patchworktidbits, for example, who wrote the following (accompanied by the above snapshot):
I was looking on my dashboard and I found I got a new follower. I was pretty happy…until I saw the url of my new follower. When I went to go check it out, it was exactly what I feared it was going to be. …There really is a tumblr for everything.
FYI, patchworktiddilywinks or whatever, I only followed you because you reblogged one of my posts. Follow rescinded!
This post goes for everybody, really. If you’re under the misguided impression that this is a serious blog with serious blog-posts that seriously takes chest hair seriously, than you are not only seriously fucking wrong, but you are also dumb as a big, old bag of shit.
Can YOU guess the mustachioed celebrity chest hair, you celebrity-chest-hair-loving sonsabitches??
UPDATE:Congratulations to Sue, who correctly guessed the celebrity chest hair — King Chest Hair the first, A.K.A. Sean Connery! But only after Zanna and Sue incorrectly guessed those other mustachioed chest-hair-havers, Thomas Selleck and Burton Reynolds, respectively.
My favorite idioms, in ascending order, are as follows: One good turn deserves another, a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and there are literally one billion known waysto show off your chest hair.
Now, some of you might find this sort of fashion statement — and in the end, that’s exactly what it is, a form of fashion — to be downright detestable. Like death for the eyeballs or visual ipecac.
Frankly, after running the world’s foremost chest hair blog for the past two years, I totally get where these people are coming from. There’re few things more retch-inducing than a weirdo unbuttoning his/her shirt down to his/her stomach so that all his/her curly q chesticles (chest hair+follicles) can spill forth and wreak havoc upon innocent passersby. I, for one, would prefer never to have a stranger’s chest hair runoff randomly waft its way onto my food plate or into my mouth, where it would no doubt wrap around my tonsils a la Curb Your Enthusiasm and slowly choke me to death. But that’s just me!
Having said all that, there are ways in which to wear chest hair — which is to say, showcase one’s chest hair by way of clothing, typically of the v-neck variety — that don’t involve ruining anybody’s breakfast, lunch, or dinner.
Personally, I like to get at least a modicum of vee going on at all times. While I’ve already established in disconcerting detail that there is such a thing as too much chest hair, especially in public, that doesn’t mean a portion of said hair can’t be on display for the betterment of all mankind. After all, if you’ve got it, flaunt it uhh, sort of, kind of, if you absolutely have to, show it off a little bit. Maybe. (If it’s not disgusting.)
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The Vee (Slight Exposure)
This is hands down my favorite T-shirt primarily because there’s a built-in portal specifically for chest hairs. I think it’s fair to say that the designer for this thing was either a genius or a madman, not unlike Ivo Shandor.
As you can see, there’s not too much chest froth going on here, but not too little either. If I were rating it on a Three Bears scale, I would definitely call this the baby bear of chest hair displays. If I were doing that. Which I’m not. Even though I just did. But only in passing, really.
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The Button-Down (Medium Exposure)
Button-downs of all types are the perfect opportunity for your chest hair to say hello to all the jealous, no-chest-hair-having bitches of the world. In fact, unless you’re wearing a tie and thus have no choice but to button your shirt all the way to the top, you would be a fool not to show off your chest hair by buttoning down!
Truly, there’s nothing lamer than a fellow who refuses to unbutton his button-down, just a little bit. Or, heaven forfend, a fellow who wears a plain white T-shirt underneath his button-down because his grandfather told him that that’s what you do to avoid pit-stains. Where’s your grandfather now, Erkel? In the ground? Being ravaged by worms and rot? Because he’s a CORPSE? You’re goddamn right he is. So what does that tell you? UNBUTTON THE SHIT OUT OF YOUR SHIRT ALREADY AND NEVER EVER WEAR AN UNDERSHIRT.
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The Baseball Tee (Light-to-Medium Exposure)
Baseball tees. Is there anything they can’t do? Well, yes, obviously, but that’s beside the point. The point is, they’re awesome, and they’re also an awesome opportunity for awesome chest hair exhibitions. Por ejemplo:
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The Baseball Tee x 2 (Light-to-Medium Exposure)
Here’s another baseball tee, same fabric, different color. This time, I’m wearing a coat over said tee, but instead of buttoning that coat up for warmth like Erkel’s grandfather would, I’m suffering for fashion and letting it all hang out. I don’t know if you can tell from just two pictures, but this adds so much fucking coolness to my general coolness aesthetic that I can scarcely describe it. So I guess I’ll just let these pictures do the ‘scribing for me, as well as they can.
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The Deep Vee Button-Down Tee (Heavy Exposure)
This is about as far down as you want to take your buttons, people. Any further, and you’re wandering into Elvis Presley territory, which, I don’t mind telling you, is just plain wrong. Morally-speaking. (There’s a reason that man died on the terlet.)
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And lastly, something of my own design:
The Chest Hair Window Tee (click to enlarge!)
I call this The Chest Hair Window because, in essence, it is a window to A) my chest hair and B) my soul, two entirely different entities that are occasionally indistinguishable. At this point, I’m sure some of you are saying to yourselves, “But wait, doesn’t this shirt violate your ‘Don’t show too much of your chest hair in public’ rule, King Chest Hair?” And the answer is: No, because that rule only applies to people who are not King Chest Hair.
The Chest Hair Window, sans King Chest Hair:
If you’re interested in climbing the Mt. Everest of chest hair fashions, this one of kind designer T-shirt — actually worn by King Chest Hair* himself! — is currently on sale for a mere $50 on Etsy.com. That’s right, you heard correctly — a mere fifty U.S. dollars! Talk about a steal, right?
*(That’s, uhm, the fourth time I’ve referred to myself in the third person? I swear it’s not a trend.)
Take it from me, folks, when you wear this shirt, your sternum follicles will be breathing like they’ve never breathed before, not to mention beaming with pride as a result of utilizing customized cloth previously worn by yours truly.
Click the image below for more details:
If you’re wondering why the shirt looks like someone haphazardly chopped a massive hole into the top of it with, like, garden shears, and then crumpled it into a ball and threw it onto the floor next to his his/her hamper … well, that’s just the edgy style I was going for as an attire artiste! Trust me, you’ll be grateful for that edge when all the ladies — or the gentlemen — are all like, “Hey there, fella — nice Chest Hair Window you got there. Mind if I … climb on in?”
Guaranteed or your money back. Except for the money part.
Anonymous asked: Put more pictures of your own hair. Its amazing. Make a page of just yours. After all, the site is called, COME LOOK AT YOUR AMAZING CHEST HAIR
Only because you asked so nicely.
King Chest Hair — as a baby!
Hahaha, no, I’m just kidding. Here you go for realsies:
There were a good 25 days between Thanksgiving and Christmas where I pretty much just playedSkyrim in my free time, like most self-respecting (videogame-playing) human beings of the world. I haven’t gone back to it in a while, because my PC — which is really just an old Mac running Windows in bootcamp — has a helluva goddamned time running the game without stuttering every five fucking frames on the lowest of the low visual settings. But I plan to in the near future. Probably after Mass Effect 3.
Anyway! All that aside, a friend of mine drew my attention to a Skyrim mod [via Geek.com] that allows for the player to alter the amount of chest hairs on his/her character, so long as his/her character is a he. Perhaps lady character chest hair will be included in a forthcoming version.
The writer of the Geek.com article remarked, and I quote:
“Why? Why in the world would someone want this added to their game? The more hair mod does exactly what its name says, it gives a player the ability to make their character have more or less chest hair. Perhaps people are using Skyrim to create fantasy romance novels involving dragons and heroes. (Please do not sent us the cosplay shots.)”
I’m sorry, big guy, but why wouldn’t you want your Skyrim character to have badass chest hair? Do you really believe that the ancient Nordic peoples upon whom the Skyrimmers were based went around murdering motherfuckers only after shaving their body hairs clean off their bodies? That sounds pretty unrealistic, if you ask me, what with a distinct lack of Gillette Fusion Pro-Glide razors and similar modern razing technologies at the time.
Furthermore, I think I sense some sour, no-chest-hair-having grapes up in your article. Did chest hair hurt you, man? Did chest hair break your heart, long ago? Was chest hair your dad who left you and your mom, started another family in Tahoe that he loved way more, and never came back, not even for a visit? Because that’s about the only thing that would explain why you hate it so damn much.
Dead beat chest hair dad is so happy in Tahoe with his second family
But I digress! Again! Hahaha.
So, yeah, when I do eventually return to Skyrim — probably sometime next month — I’ll be doing so with added chest hair. How about yourself?
A big, hearty thank you goes out to my good friend and fellow Tumblerer, Mansquito- who is literally 1/2 man, 1/2 squito - for sending me this invaluable article about how chest hair wards off bed bugs, A.K.A. Climex Lextularius.*
According to Professor Michael Siva-Jothy of Sheffield University, via BBC News:
“Our findings show that more body hairs mean better detection of parasites - the hairs have nerves attached to them and provide us with the ability to detect displacement. They also slow down the insect as it searches for a tasty spot to bite.”
In other words, bed bugs are really lazy motherfuckers who would rather drink the blood of the hairless than that of the hairful due to increased difficulty with regard to the latter. Think obese vampires on a nearly microscopic level.
Oh, haha, I guess I forgot to read the rest of the BBC article, particularly the following passage:
“[E]xtreme hairiness might actually be more of a disadvantage than an advantage. […] If you have a heavy coat of long thick hairs, it is easier for parasites to hide, even if you can detect them.”
Well, goddammit.
*Climex Lextularius is a strangely sexy name for perhaps the most vile creature on the planet, in King Chest Hair’s humble opinion.
I post pictures of people's chest hair, most especially my own, because you don't have the time to go around asking random man-folk to lift their shirts up over their heads. Think your chest hair's prettier and more plentiful than mine? Prove it, you sonofabitch, by submitting between one and several pictures to the blog. But keep in mind, that's not an either/or up there. Prettier and more plentiful or bust.
