Day 24: Another Tour of Duty

Oh that crazy look in my eye, don't worry about that... just don't look at me directly in the mustache or talk using your mouth.
I know what you're asking yourself, and the answer is yes, this is the most patriotic mustache in the universe. You can tell by all of the multi-colored hairs that may appear to the untrained eye like a bunch of fireworks coming out of my nose.
The answer to your second question is no, my mustache is not available for bar mitzvahs. Not because my mustache is a racist Jew hater, but because I think those sneaky Kikes will try to steal my mustache.

Day 23: WWMD

My mustache is trying to get all buff for swimsuit season. The other day I caught mustache flexing in the mirror trying to suck in his gut. Nice try mustache, but you're not looking like Ken Patera just yet, the singlet looks pretty sweet though.

I decided to part my mustache right down the middle, just like the Red Sea. If it was good enough for Moses, then I'm pretty sure I should do it. I should probably come up with a list of ten or so mustache commandments now. The first being, If you don't have a mustache, you can go straight to hell.

Day 19: Correction

Mustache must have been hopped up on bennies and zippers the other day, either that or my mustache has down syndrome.

Mean Gene Okerlund's last name isn't Simmons, mustache was confused. I think he had been huffing gold paint and drinking robutussin maximum strength cough and cold most of the morning, mustache that is, not Mean Gene. Although I did hear that Mean Gene has a pretty wicked sex addiction and is rumored to be sharing a bunk bed with Tiger Woods.

One of these days you'll be gone old friend, until then let's party with our pants off.

Day 17: You're mustache is crooked

Mean Gene Simmons had a crooked mustache, I know this because Randy Macho Man Savage told him he had a crooked mustache. Now my mustache isn't on steroids...yet, but it does like to wrestle. As a matter of fact mustache is thinking about giving you a flying elbow right now.
The cheers of the crowd, the scent of stale beer mixed with Drakkar Noir and fear, all that as mustache is led to the ring by an orange hooker with daffy duck lips. Wow, how glorious would mustache look sweating in a pair of men's underoos?
Alas, mustache can't wrestle, actually mustache isn't allowed within 100 feet of any major sporting event, or elementary school for that matter.

Day 16: The sweetest mustache in the universe

There once was a man from Massachusetts,

Who had a mustache but was toothless,

One day he sat aghast while stroking his stache,

And said "Thank God my mother named me Rufus."

Mr. Mustachetic

I'm beginning to hate mustache. I can see why I've never attempted to grow something this fantastic before. I came this close to shaving mustache off today, all this bastard wants to do is go to the Mermaid and cruise for chubbies.

Day 9: A mustache for all seasons

My mustache doesn't blog on the weekends, but he does enjoy the occasional gin fizz, and by occasional I mean my mustache is hammered right now. I'm really thinking about getting mustache into a twelve step plan of recovery, but when we had the intervention at halftime during the Superbowl, mustache decided that would be a good time to pass out after throwing up in my lap. I'm not sure if it was the booze or the rousing performance by the who that made him sick.

Day 5: Gary

I was out with mustache last night and all of a sudden I heard someone yelling at a dude named Gary. When I turned to look I was slapped directly in the mustache and a chubby road whore started swearing at me in Hungarian. I tried to explain that I wasn't Gary, but she finally said " I ain't talkin to you, queer, I'm talking to GARY!" Before I realized that my mustache's name was Gary, he had punched the rogue whore directly in the fallopian tube. As I stood there over the wheezing hooker, Gary searched her purse for coke and kicked her in he ribs.

I like you mustache, but your effing crazy bro.

Day 4: Glengarry Glenmustache

PUT THAT COFFEE DOWN! Coffee is for mustaches only.

I know what you must be asking yourself, and the answer is yes, my mustache does tickle, but it is fully trained in shiatsu massage.

I was walking down the street yesterday and a group of elderly nuns were staring at my mustache. All of a sudden they began to weep at the sheer beauty that is mustache. One of them managed the courage to look directly upon the mustache and while she did she asked: " Who do you think you are with that mustache on your face?" Before I could say anything my mustache screamed: "F**K YOU! That's who I am, now go in the kitchen and fix me a turkey pot pie."

Wow, my mustache is a badass.

Day 3, the sweetest of all days

Today my alarm didn't wake me up, I was roused out of my slumber by my mustache. My mustache decided to wake me up by singing a soothing yet still alarming rendition of the theme to "Different Strokes". Yes mustache I agree, it does take different strokes to rule the world, it also takes a different kind of mustache.



Today I've decided to let my furry mange grow until it reaches Magnum status, or at least a Ditka... Powerstache...grow you filthy animal GROW!

Day 2 ( sorry day one )

It is officially day two of "28 days of mustache" month and I've got to say I feel slighlty more distinguished and less like a greasy Poncherelli today.

My upper lip had a nightmare last night. It dreamt that a hairy monster was trying to suffacate it and it woke up screaming. When I asked my upper lip what was wrong it told me about the horrific nightmare. I told my upper lip not to be frightened, one upper lips nightmare is another man's wet dream.