So today I grew my very own whisker. ON MY FACE. I say whisker not a hair because it wasn't soft, it was prickly. If that isn't horrendous enough, when I finally manage to extract it with a tweezer, the motherfucker was GRAY.
oh the humanity.
a confused mixture. Examples: hotchpotch of errors, 1728; of garlic and cheese, 1591; of ideas; of many meats, 1530; of all sorts of men, 1652; of many nations, 1652; of true religion and popery, 1888; of songs, 1835; of tastes; of words, 1386.