I’m Actually Kind of a Hermit Guys
This weekend I decided to get to know my moustache better. I feel like we haven’t had enough “us” time. All this time it seems like this experiment has been about other people when at the core it’s just about me and borderline socially unacceptable facial hair.
Needless to say my moustache and I didn’t get into any crazy adventures. Mostly just the odd car honk while walking to the corner store to buy a 55 cent package of Mr. Noodles and lament over the rising prices of chocolate milk. I’m distrustful of you dairy corporation.
I decided the best thing to do was to get to know my moustache as a person and let it get to know me. All the things I normally do on a weekend I brought it along with me. I wanted to see how it could handle being a part of me. I read poetry with it; I found a great new poet through a great person. His name is Jeffrey McDaniel and he writes like this:
My third grade teacher told me I had no future.
I run through snow and turn around
just to make sure I’ve got a past.
He takes words and butters them up and shows them a nice time. After showing them that nice time he discreetly takes them to a back alley in the bad part of town to fuck the shit out of them before leaving them with a roll of loose change to catch the last bus home. I wish I could write like that. My moustache wishes I could write like that.
I fired up my xbox and played video games with my moustache.
My moustache wasn’t a fan. I won’t be doing that again.
I struggled through schoolwork and became discouraged after it became apparent that I am dumber than the hair above my lip. It was a low point for my self esteem.
During my inventory of all the stuff I own that I will be selling, I tried to task my moustache to count and order things, it was around this time that I realized that it’s just hair growing out of my face and it can’t actually do any of the things I’ve been talking about above.
I sat in the dark silence and contemplated my growing insanity. Softly stroking my moustache as if I was looking for some comfort or answer in the bushy confines of my own manly (and some would say unevolved, but seriously, fuck those guys) ability to spout dead follicles from pretty much every part of my body. None was found. Denying my moustache a personality was like denying my own self. The experiment I’ve been doing seemed pointless at this time.
But Then Something Happened
A noise from my computer shocked me out of my existential crisis like a point blank shot fired into my heart from a cannon. A notification. Someone wanted to hear what I had to say about something. Anything. That was nice. It was my friend Josh, who I think is mostly crazy most of the time, and he wanted to talk moustache with me. This re-validated this entire process. My moustache and I were back on track. Top of the world! Or at least residing in the top drawer of a mid sized dresser. People are actually interested in this crap!
Oh, let me give you a bit of a back-story after I’ve already told the entire story. You see, Josh himself grew a moustache, independently and without knowledge of mine. Of course, mine is better, and he thinks his actually looks good. So, I kind of win there. Take that Josh.
My all around betterness as a human being aside, Josh is okay, just misguided in attempts at facial hair. It’s not his fault though; he can barely grow any.
And Then MORE Stuff Happened
But not really. I mostly just did stuff for school and tried to sell some comic books.
