1960 -- I, and my eyebrows, are born. Hordes of researchers have failed to produce any contemporary notice of my eyebrows whatsoever. We must then assume that they differed in no way from the eyebrows one would expect on an infant that resembled Winston Churchill.
1960-1995 -- My eyebrows show no expansionist tendencies. They lie waiting. And plotting.
1995 -- I mention to my sister that I am on my way to get my haircut. She suggests I ask to have my eyebrows trimmed. I shrug it off, deeming it ridiculous. When I arrive for my haircut, I am asked if I would like my eyebrows trimmed.
2000 -- I begin trimming my own hair, doing so roughly monthly. I trim my eyebrows first occasionally, then about every other time, then almost every time.
2010 -- Circa May 9 of this year, it becomes clear to me that my eyebrows require trimming, although my hair does not.
Where is this going? Are my eyebrows in on Siah Sausage's plot for world domination? I have fear.