Challenge Accepted…What’s At Stake???

We’re not very far along in this challenge. So, the growth of my hair is not very noticable…outside of the growing numbers of white hairs making an appearance on the top…and the sides of my head.

Emily used to be polite and tell me that they were just really light blonde hairs. I have a feeling that, with this challenge, she will begin to be less polite and point out each new white hair that reveals itself. This will be her attempt to get me to throw in the towel.

After a number of days in discussion, we have settled the terms of this challenge.

If I succeed at growing my hair out like Chef Keller’s, Emily has to arrange a trip to Hubert Keller’s Fleur de Lys in San Francisco.

If Emily throws in the towel and begs me to cut my hair before completing the full challenge, she has to arrange a trip to Hubert Keller’s Burger Bar in St. Louis.

If I throw in the towel and give up on the challenge, I have to take Emily to the LaSalle Grill in South Bend for dinner, followed by dancing…whether it be ballroom or booty shaking…she doesn’t care…as long as she gets to see me do the Rerun dance (you only need to watch the first 45 seconds).

So, there you have it!

4 thoughts on “Challenge Accepted…What’s At Stake???

  1. I”m really going to be pulling for you to throw in the towel Jason, because I’m going to talk to Emily and see if I can’t get an invitation to the evening in South Bend! I have to get that on video. That would be an exciting way to start our service one Sunday, video of Jason doing the Rerun dance!!!!

  2. I have gone my entire life without video footage of my version of the Rerun dance…and I’d like to keep it that way. Thanks, Geary, for the extra motivation to stick to this challenge!

  3. Fartacus is appalled by the very existence of hair. What’s that you say? Fartacus is bald! That’s why he hates hair!? Those are fighting words! You, sir, will pay! PAY!

  4. Ah, the almost triumphant return of Sir Fartacus!

    I had assumed that Sir Fartacus was holed up in a bunker somewhere in Alaska in an attempt to survive the coming judgment (tomorrow). Tomorrow, the world will end. And, you, good sir, will still have no hair.

    I sense that your outrage is simply childish jealousy. Grow up, sir…grow up!

    But, seriously, dearest Fartacus…it is good to hear from you again.

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