You know what? I used to be unique. I used to be someone unlike anyone else. I was Ian Valentine and no one could touch me. I was the man.

But then something happened.

Some no talent ass clown Mike Rosenbaum came around and stole my thunder.

You know who he is. That douche bag, Lex Luthor from Smallville, who apparently looks exactly like yours truly. OK, I admit, we do look pretty damn similar, but even though you would think looking like a celebrity is a good thing, you couldn’t be more wrong. Hell, he’s not even a C-list celebrity. He’s just some schmuck from the sorry ass WB network.

Yet just like Superman, Lex Luthor is Ian Valentine’s Kryptonite. Now I can’t leave the house without some plebian TV junkie thinking I am him and asking for my autograph or wanting to take a picture with me. And no I am not kidding. It was fun at first, but after a while, just like my boy Owen Hart would say, ‘Enough is enough, and it’s time for a change.’

I want my life back. I want to be unique again. I want to be myself, and I want no one to be able to take it away from me. I want to be Ian Valentine: Reborn.

But how? This my fans, is a difficult task. How do I separate my self from this jabroni and give myself my own identity? Do I grow my hair out? Well considering I share the same horseshoe haircut as Hulk Hogan, I’ll save myself the embarrassment and pass up on that idea. Maybe start wearing en eye patch, I mean who needs peripheral vision anyways? I do, that’s who, so that’s no good. Maybe I could work out and get all buff. Yeah right, my muscles have been in hibernation since I stopped doing physical fitness tests in high school. So working out is not an option.

I got it. I know what will truly separate me from this Lex bastard. I am going to grow a beard. Yes. That’s it. This beard will be the new Ian Valentine. A new Ian Valentine totally differentiating me from any loser who gets his ass kicked by Clark Kent. It might take a while, but the dividends will pay off exponentially. And besides, if I can’t grow hair on my head, I might as well grow it on my face. But how long do I grow it you ask? Well I think 30 days will do about right.

And so it begins. 30 days until Ian Valentine is reborn. Let the insanity begin.

Day 1

Me and my Kryptonite

Here I am compared to my doppelganger on day one of my month long facial massacre. OK, as much as I try to deny it, we do look quite similar. Well, besides the fact that I am much better looking. And I look better wearing black on black. I bet Clark Kent would be scared of me more too, I mean most guys are so he would be too obviously.

Day 4

Not too shabby

Here I am 4 days into my reincarnation fiasco. Not too much stubble. But the Ian Valentine metamorphosis is under way. And you know what, if you ask me, it doesn’t look that bad. I think I might get used to this new Ian that is in the making. It’s like I’m going through puberty again only without the voice cracking and the 27 boners a day.

Day 10

One handsome mamajama

Slight problem. You see, yes, I am starting to grow a pretty quality beard as I have quite the 5 o’clock shadow, but unfortunately I am not creating a new and unique Ian. Now, I look like another celebrity. Now, I look like everyone’s favorite alcoholic wrestler, the one and only, Scott Hall.

Hey yo

Even when I try to look original, I fail at that. You would think I would be proud to look like the bad guy, the man who oozes machismo when most people simply sweat. But no, I am not. God damn it, I want to be me. I don’t want to look like anyone else. And gosh darn it that’s what I am going to do. Let the growing proceed.

Day 17

The new Ian Valentine coming at ya

What a difference seven days made. Now this is starting to turn into quite the quality beard. At this point the Lex Luthor shenanigans have finally stopped, I have finally separated myself from that hillbilly.

My creepy twin

However, it happened again. As much as I am trying to look unique, it’s not working. I look like another celebrity. Except this celebrity isn’t as acceptable as Scott Hall. No, this time I am starting to look like the Unabomber. You know, the guy that sent bombs through the mail to people. Not exactly someone you want to look like. I considered shaving at this point before the FBI started to watch me…BUT NO! I said I was going to do this for 30 days, and 30 days I will. Looking like a maniacal, homicidal, sociopath is just a speed bump in my path towards unique greatness. The show must go on, and go on it will.

Day 25

Eat your heart out ladies

Now this is a look I can get used to. Just look at that beard, this is what I call a stud muffin. And might I mention that I had women knocking down my door asking me to baptize their badunkadunk because of how good looking this beard was making me. Probably because I am in the process of looking like Brad Pitt. Don’t believe me? Well, take a look for yourself.

Actually, eat your heart out Brad

We are damn near identical twins in the making. Give me a few more months and you won’t be able to tell us apart. No, I may not look unique, but looking like a former People’s Most Sexiest Man who has children with Jennifer Aniston and Angelina Jolie…now that’s a lifestyle I could get used to. You know what. I change my mind. I am going to exceed that 30-day thing and grow out my beard until Brad Pitt and I are one. Ian Valentine + Brad Pitt = The end of the female specimen as we know it. Go ahead and pencil in vaginas into the endangered species list.

Day 30

Damn near child molesteresque status

Oh God. My Plan backfired. People are beginning to look at me suspiciously. I feel like I am being watched, maybe even listen too. I don’t feel safe anymore. Not because I look like Brad Pitt. God no, that plan totally fell apart.

Alalahahaalahahaala

It’s because I am starting to look like the FBI’s most wanted, Osama bin Laden. I look like a fucking terrorist. If I don’t cut this shit off my face I am a dead man. Well that is unless George Bush doesn’t take his anger on me out on another country for no reason. Either way, thankfully this Osama phase lands on day 30, the same time when I was going to cut this crap anyways.

Beard, I am sorry. It’s been fun, and even though it is kind of fun to look the man who is No. 1 on the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted List, no facial hair is worth being looked at like I am responsible for thousands of deaths. I’d rather look like Lex Luther any day than this terrorist.

But what to do with my facial hair? Truly I had to capitalize on this mess. I couldn’t just shave it all off in one day. I had to make an event out of it and be creative. And be creative I shall.

Being the creative genius that I am, it didn’t take me very long before I knew what I was going to do with my facial hair. Since the last 30 days have consistently consisted of me being celebrity look-alikes, why stop there? I am going to end this 30-day extravaganza the same way I started it, looking like a famous celebrity.

What famous celebrity you ask? Well not only is he a famous celebrity, but he is much more than that. Fans, he is a former president, if not the best president ever. President Chester A. Arthur.

Here is the man behind America’s success as a World Power

Damn right. I am going to give myself the ole civil war type mustache. This should be interesting. This may get my ass kicked, or seduced for that matter. I guess I can just hope for the best. Lets get this party started.

Have Mercy

Oh yeah. Check out this hunk. Man good ole Chester really had something going here with this look. No wonder he is quite possibly the best president ever. I think it looks quite good on me. Actually, I think it looks very good one me. You know what...I think it looks so good, I think I am going to keep it. I think I may have found the new Ian Valentine. This is a new me I could love. So what if I look like someone else, at least I look like a former president than some Superman-chasing pantywaist. This is a look I could get used to.

With this new look, I couldn’t wait to show it off. Hell, with this new look I bet I would be fighting off girls with a stick. I had to go out that night to the local bar if it was the last thing I did. So I got myself all guccied up and sent off for a night into the abyss of New York City that was sure to be a night of glorious, unadultured, reborn, promiscuity. Tonight was going to be a good night.

Let’s take a look at some of the pictures from that night out. It was interesting to say the least. The night started off very good. You should have seen me walk into the bar. Everyone turned and looked in complete silence, and even the music stopped. That’s right Ian, way to turn some heads.

Look at me and my fellow Zubaz crew Doug Enemy and Fishman. Now these guys know how to party.

Here I am with Fishman, again having the time of my life.

And look at me here, pimpin' it big willy style. Man, this facial masterpiece is turning into a gift from the God’s above. I love the new Ian Valentine

But then things took a turn for the worse. People started to point at me. And not only did they point, but they laughed. They even yelled such heinous insults as “hey President Analplugg,” and “nice mustache fancy boy.” My grand plan for the night was starting to turn against me. Ian was not happy.

First Doug Enemy turned on me.

And then Fishman turned on me.

But then things got really bad. This weird guy in a leather coat, who I think was gay, came up to me and started to hit on me, telling me my mustache was “cute.” Don’t be deceived by my smile, he’s actually tickling me. Guh.

My feeble existence is crashing down around me.

That my friends was the last straw. It’s one thing to get pointed and laughed at, but it’s a totally different thing to have people think you are gay and hit on you. If I didn’t act soon my anal cavity was in danger of being impacted. Hell, I doubt this guy would even give me a courtesy wrap around. This facial abortion needed to come off, and soon.

So I left the bar immediately, with my head hung low and pride in the gutter. As cool and as good looking as I though I was, I was way off. The civil war/president Arthur look was horribly tragic. So, in admitting my failure, I went home, and prepared to return to a state of D-list celebrity look-alike stardom as I was going to shave the rest of my facial hair off. And not to mention on the way out, I was pelted with garbage and booed vociferously. It’s a sad day in Ian Valentine land.

So I set off to cut my facial hair. But not without cutting it into a real deal porn star mustache first of course. Because who am I kidding, after all, I am a porn star by nature.

Here I am. One last stop before returning to my life of mediocrity.

And so it ends. My journey towards finding an Ian Valentine Version 2.0 ends at the same place it started, being clean-shaven and looking like Lex Luthor. But compared to what I could have looked like, a bomber, a terrorist, and a gay president, I suppose this is nothing. At least this is what I tell myself every night before I cry my sad, unoriginal looking, balding self to sleep.

Here I am, back to normal. My sad, pathetic normal self.

But before I go. I want you to remember, Valentine is all about love, and Ian Valentine loves all of you fans.

MUAH

Questions? Comments? Anyone want a mustache ride? If so, email me at ikartz11@yahoo.com