Almost Brad Pitt

     Yeah, I would say that I have a face worth bragging about: soft blue eyes, petite nose, toddler-like bone structure.  Whats not to love? A spectacular mane of of unkempt beauty sits atop my skull.  It is basically impossible to tame enough for an actual hairstyle, but I just like to think that it fits my shoddy, messy personality.  This mane actually creeps down my face to then carpet my cheeks, chin, and neck.  I am not going to go as far as to say that it is high quality carpet either; it may remind many of that cheap, itchy indoor-outdoor carpet that gets put where people have nothing more worthwhile to cover the area.  Yeah, the smart person would shave it off; but, without any facial hair I would likely still be able to get into the movies for free.  I would say that there is just no relief for its powerful charm.  Overall, I would say that I am the best looking guy in most of my classes that I attend at an estrogen dominated college of merely a few thousand students.  Those odds are pretty hard to beat for the average guy. 

      I like to think of myself as being one of the lucky ones in life that can be considered the total package: decently good looking and in fair physical condition.  With this gleaming evidence, I like to believe that there is slightly more right with me than wrong.  If you look at the bright side, I will look a few decades younger than everyone else in my age bracket in fifty or so years.  Thats the only way I can justify having this extreme condition of baby-face.  At least I have something to look forward to; by the time I reach the mature look I dream of nightly, my mental maturity may be in the early stages of dementia. With the aforementioned, I like to think I am a damn good looking specimen.