Tuesday, October 23, 2007

Moustache Diary, Entry #11

I have to go to the dentist tomorrow.

No biggy. I can handle that.

But today, when I was reminded of my appointment, my first reaction was, “I have to shave this thing off. Now.”

Well, shit.

What kind of a man would I be if I followed that kind of thinking? (No need to answer that question.)

But let this serve as a sort of mini announcement: I’ll at least wait until after my dentist appointment to get rid of it. Yes, you read me right. I’m thinking about ending my moustache raising experiment.

As I’ve mentioned, as long as I don’t look in a mirror I can get through my days without too much self-shaming. And that’s the approach I’ve adopted at this point in the ’stache research. No lookie.

This works fine for shitty sunglasses (Since I’m behind them, they don’t look bad to me.), but I’m starting to feel badly for all those who have to see me regularly. Not very badly. Just a little badly.
Also, I’m sick of taking photos of my face and sick of posting them on this blog.

I’ll let you know how the dentist goes and then we’ll start working on how I’m going to get out of this little jam I’ve gotten myself into.

7 comments:

11:11 said...

This is bad news, really bad.

11:11 said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
11:11 said...

First of all, sorry for deleting the previous comment. I used the word FUCK in it like three times. I don't like saying FUCK to the internet. FUCK.

Anyhoo. . .
Looks like your your stash (I like to call her Boogie) may be growing down into your mouth and hindering the normal flow of oxygen. This would help explain your light headed fumble bum, devil may/may not care attitude. You're probably snoring, not sleeping well. Food tastes the same just a little hairier. Your normal decision making skills are compromised. More air - less hair.

I tell this to people ALL the time so forgive me, I may be repeating myself. . . . If you can, put yourself in your you moustache's shoes. Take a moment in the mirror. Give her a wink. Give her a pucker. And before you put her under the Shick, at least give her cab fare.

Balloons are pretty!

nacho_supreme said...

Pat. I like that you refer to the stash as a "she".

I always call a gang "she". It's like when you call a boat "she" or a hurricane "she".

Or a mustache.

That's just one of the many things you can call a she.

ButchieCantaloupe said...

Honestly, i am starting to really like it. I think you could do it at least as well as Zappa did.

It's because you, like Frank, have personality and that can carry any stache', eye patch, or peg leg through life like a cloud floating carelessly through the ski.

ButchieCantaloupe said...

sky not ski.

sorry.

rfresh said...

I was hoping to see it, at least once, after a frosty winter ride, gently covered in shimmering white snowfall. Alas.