Day 15: Good weekend for the stache

Disclaimer: I cannot tell a lie, in a moment of weakness I almost shaved -- I almost threw it all away. After Ben my negotiator roommate told me this is what makes a man a hero, I decided that everything was going to be OK!

I'm proud to report that it was a very successful weekend with the stache -- well I've kind of wussed out and tuned my facial make up into a stylish goatee -- but I digress.


At a basement party on Thursday I was informed from a slightly intoxicated blonde that she had been checking me out all evening because AND I QUOTE "my edgey biker facial hair." What ever the hell that means I'm putting it the compliment column. (compliments 1 - Insults 323)

The lovely blonde asked if I'd dance with her -- I obliged -- but when she tried to make a move I had to break it to her that the stache rides solo.

On Friday it was off to a Wild Wild West party I went-- needless to say the surplus of drunken cowgirls and scantly clothed Native Americans confused me with Mustache extraordinaire and award winning actor Sam Elliot (see below) Can you blame them? Than there is Saturday -- the day my mustache launched an epic brawl.

After an eight hour work day all I really wanted to do was relax with myself, my stache, a couple of cold beers and watch the World Series. But being that my mustache has become somewhat of a pop-star around campus I was persuaded by the tens of hundreds of phone calls to come out and enjoy the night life.

After I combed my lip-fur I was ready to paint the town red. I arrived at my friend Lauren's party drunk with love and beer when I noticed something terrible. The party I was at had 35 sausages and 10 girls. What the hell? The worst part is no one else at the house had even a snib-bit of facial hair (pansies)

I plopped a seat in front of the television with my friend Bill (no stache Bill as he has come to be known around this town) when one by one the other gents at the party started talking, whispering, and staring at me (pansies) I thought "oh shit, they're going to pounce me," but noooo the opposite -- they began to compliment my stache -- and actually scuffle for the open seat next to mine.

First came a trashy Caucasian male by the name of TJ who asked if it was natural or if Rogaine enhance -- it's natural I reply -- and if you didn't have your sunglasses on at 11:30 at night and a Trojan Headband around your neck you might be able to notice.

Than there was 'Drunk Ass Ricky,' an annoying Phillies fan who kept insisting to me the reason that Ryan Howard and Chase Utley are better baseball players than I is because they have the common decency not to grow facial hair -- fuck Drunk Ass Ricky.

Before conflict arised Ricky apologized and said he actually 'digged the stache' and will begin to grow his own -- nonetheless I stand by my point that Ricky sucked.

After an array of non-important bystanders came and went I decided that it was time to leave the non-facial hair festivities and head back home. What would happen afterward is all entirely true according to the record of Non-Stache Bill.

After I left the boys at the party began discussing who could grow a mustache that would rival mine -- some called it sacrilegious to have such a conversations -- others proclaimed with sheer confidence they could outgrow me in two days flat.

The lines were drawn the battlegrounds set. Knives were drawn, groins were kicked, and punches were thrown, Drunk Ass Ricky took a shot to the eye, blood splattered like a sprinkler, and as Ricky fell it is rumored he mumbled ,"Viva La Stache."

Men fell like acorns from an Oak tree in the fall.

Things escalated so quickly that an anonymous tool repping a went so far to put together a concoction that resembled a Moltov Cocktail...but didn't have the balls to use it..thank God.

After the dust settled, and the local S.W.A.T team cleaned up the mess twenty-six individuals had been arrested on several charges; including, attempted murder, Mustache Jealousy in the first and second degree, and drunk in public charges.

I never meant for my mustache to cause so many problems -- but I can't let a few bad stacheless apples ruin it for the rest of us -- the cause lives on, and soon enough we will all bask in its glory.

Until next time HAPPY JOSHGIVING!

The Mustahce Day 11

I'm looking for a large shipment of patience, if anyone knows where I can get some cheap let me know.

I'm heading into the midst of week 2 (day 11) and all I currently have to show for my efforts is dark colored fuzz. Maybe its' the ground work for a Stalin Stache but more likely I fear it will amount to nothing more than that of Jose my neighbor.

Nonetheless the progression is going relatively slow -- but don't you fear, for I have not lost faith in the cause!

Mustache; The Essence of Man.

I yearn for a mustache. I want to grow a mustache unlike any other -- one that will make people stop and say, " that sir, is a damn fine 'stache." Unfortunately I am one of the ill-fated many who will never realize this dream.

You see, even at age twenty-one I grow facial hair equivalent to that of a prepubescent twelve year old. My friend Josh has had the uncanny capability to grow a full blown stache in sixth grade, my buddy Branson can whip out designer-esque lip fur on a moments notice, but I -- I take weeks for a shadow to appear.

My head is out of the clouds -- I know an award winning mustache will never come from my face -- and that's OK. But damn it i want some acknowledgment.

That is why right now, in writing I am putting my foot down -- I will not shave my upper lip until AT THE VERY LEAST a mustache of respectability appears.

Although this is the first post I am currently ending day 10 of my campaign to make this world a better place -- one mustache at a time.

Pictures will be posted soon. Pray for me, pray for the cause, but above all else pray for the stahce.