Most of us are not very good looking. That's why there's facial hair. It's like a ficus tree or a poster that covers up the hole in the sheet-rock. Everyone knows there's a hole in the wall, but folks try their best to not ask questions about the origin.
Everyone knows the hole is from when you got pissed at the dog for pooping in the clothes hamper. Friends and family would prefer ignore fits of volcanic anger at an innocent animal. Besides, psychiatric inquiry ,by loved ones, is an activity best-suited for winter holiday gatherings.
I guess, if a hole in the wall prevents animal cruelty I fully endorse it. The end justifies the means, just like facial hair.
Besides, if mustaches didn't exist Tom Selleck ,nor Burt Reynolds, would have acting careers. I'd hate to live in a world absent of The Bandit or Magnum P.I. When I see these guys facially nude they might as well be old ladies.
People laugh at my recently grown mustache. It's cool, I realize I look ridiculous. It's all good in the metaphorical "hood." I'm not important enough that I have to look respectable, but in an odd turn of events I gained respect.
When I encountered douche'rs and press-shirts at the bar they thought I was law enforcement. They talked shit behind my back instead of to my face. I do look a bit like Farva.
When I floated the river the underage hid their booze, when I left Crap-Mart the geriatric greeter didn't obtrusively ask to check my receipt and the guy at 7-11 seemed almost scared when I asked him why they were out of Vanilla Crisp PowerBars.
Sideburns followed, I felt the power and I wanted more. So I upgraded my simple mustache to a Fu Manchu in hopes that the day I brandish a sword I would be taken seriously. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.
I found out a Fu Manchu scares little kids and dogs bark at you. I knew then I went to far. If a samurai becomes obsessed with sharpening his sword it inevitably becomes dull. Facial hair is similar in this respect and like a Japanese warrior it takes a razor sharp edge to solve the problem.
As I began to dial back my facial statement I had an epiphany, with a quick shave you get another chance to make a first impression. In the eyes of strangers you're a totally different person.
Knock over the wedding cake? Shave that shit off. Carry a razor in your pocket. Practice speed-shaving on stray cats in your downtime. Master the skills, your speed and precision will make or break your dramatic transformation.
As soon as you're cleanly shaved make yourself seen, as you scream "The dude with the mustache did it!" As the offended party searches for the furry-lipped villain, steal bottles of booze far beyond the price range of your wallet.
The wedding isn't ruined, it's now far more memorable. The mysterious mustached man will become legend and the Johnny Walker Blue Label now resides in your liquor cabinet. You'll need that booze to get through the awkwardness as you transition back into another facial hair commitment.
But now, knowledge has entered the equation. This time it's different. Now you know a Fu Manchu resides on the edge of a slippery slope. People will perceive you as the type of dude that would eat a sandwich he found in the street. Now you know the mustache grows thicker, bigger and more powerful as everyday passes. For some reason it's easier to start a fire when camping. Now you know a bearded hipster is simply someone that went too far.
They got blinded by the bright lights of follicle fame. A mistake I will never make again.
Everyone knows the hole is from when you got pissed at the dog for pooping in the clothes hamper. Friends and family would prefer ignore fits of volcanic anger at an innocent animal. Besides, psychiatric inquiry ,by loved ones, is an activity best-suited for winter holiday gatherings.
I guess, if a hole in the wall prevents animal cruelty I fully endorse it. The end justifies the means, just like facial hair.
Besides, if mustaches didn't exist Tom Selleck ,nor Burt Reynolds, would have acting careers. I'd hate to live in a world absent of The Bandit or Magnum P.I. When I see these guys facially nude they might as well be old ladies.
People laugh at my recently grown mustache. It's cool, I realize I look ridiculous. It's all good in the metaphorical "hood." I'm not important enough that I have to look respectable, but in an odd turn of events I gained respect.
When I encountered douche'rs and press-shirts at the bar they thought I was law enforcement. They talked shit behind my back instead of to my face. I do look a bit like Farva.
When I floated the river the underage hid their booze, when I left Crap-Mart the geriatric greeter didn't obtrusively ask to check my receipt and the guy at 7-11 seemed almost scared when I asked him why they were out of Vanilla Crisp PowerBars.
Sideburns followed, I felt the power and I wanted more. So I upgraded my simple mustache to a Fu Manchu in hopes that the day I brandish a sword I would be taken seriously. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.
I found out a Fu Manchu scares little kids and dogs bark at you. I knew then I went to far. If a samurai becomes obsessed with sharpening his sword it inevitably becomes dull. Facial hair is similar in this respect and like a Japanese warrior it takes a razor sharp edge to solve the problem.
As I began to dial back my facial statement I had an epiphany, with a quick shave you get another chance to make a first impression. In the eyes of strangers you're a totally different person.
Knock over the wedding cake? Shave that shit off. Carry a razor in your pocket. Practice speed-shaving on stray cats in your downtime. Master the skills, your speed and precision will make or break your dramatic transformation.
As soon as you're cleanly shaved make yourself seen, as you scream "The dude with the mustache did it!" As the offended party searches for the furry-lipped villain, steal bottles of booze far beyond the price range of your wallet.
The wedding isn't ruined, it's now far more memorable. The mysterious mustached man will become legend and the Johnny Walker Blue Label now resides in your liquor cabinet. You'll need that booze to get through the awkwardness as you transition back into another facial hair commitment.
But now, knowledge has entered the equation. This time it's different. Now you know a Fu Manchu resides on the edge of a slippery slope. People will perceive you as the type of dude that would eat a sandwich he found in the street. Now you know the mustache grows thicker, bigger and more powerful as everyday passes. For some reason it's easier to start a fire when camping. Now you know a bearded hipster is simply someone that went too far.
They got blinded by the bright lights of follicle fame. A mistake I will never make again.
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