I don’t usually blast my upsetting life events out there, but today I just can’t hold it in anymore. Today is March first. That means today is the first day of the much hated (by me) Mustache March. Guys spend the whole month growing caterpillars on their faces. Lovely.
Last year Brian won Best Overall Mustache at work during the March Madness (the one you don’t have to have talent to participate in). Does he have a thick glorious mustache you ask? No. His mustache grows in blonde, except for that two inches just under his nose so from any distance further than three feet he looks like a fucking blonde Hitler. Oh, did I mention we live in Germany?! Claudia, the secretary who works with Brian is German. Every time she would walk past his door she would just glare at him and snap her two fingers under her nose as she toed past. Lovely, Brian.
It’s not just me that hates Mustache March. The majority of women who are married to men who participate in Mustache March hate it too. This is the month of sleeping on the couch (it’s like camping!), kisses on the cheek instead of the lips, and a month of mean mugging to the back of said mustache wearers head. Some women retaliate by not shaving their legs. I did this once, when I was young, and very very retarded. Not only do I have to deal with Mr. Prickle Lips, I can’t cross my legs or put lotion on. Heaven forbid my legs touch on accident. The moment those babies come in contact, my body reacts like a spider just crawled up my leg, which also looks like a stroke/seizure hybrid.
Sure mustaches look great from a distance. Who doesn’t make steamy eyes at Tom Seleck (Magnum PI age)? But the only reason women like his mustache is because there is no real chance of ever making out with him. One, because he hasn’t been a hunk in about 20 years, and two he has security for such tests. No one likes being stabbed in the face, and that’s exactly what you get when you kiss a mustache man. A thousand little prickles in the face for one kiss.
Guy at work today: Real men have mustaches.
Me: Debatable. I say real men shave that shit off.
Guy at work today: What about Chuck Norris?
Me: That’s different.
Guy at work today: What? Why is he different?
Me: Because it’s fucking Chuck Norris. He is like the poster child for gingers, and when you kiss Chuck Norris, you would expect to get stabbed in the face. Chuck Norris will stab you in the face with his face. He’s Chuck Norris. That face stab will also make you instantly pregnant. That’s just what happens when you kiss Chuck Norris.
For the rest of the men out there, unless you walk your big blue ox to the woods where you chop wood all day, please get rid of your face hedgehog. Only 30 more days to go. I’d really love to stay and write more, but I mustache.