The Stache

A while back, my friend Josh (the farmer) did an experiment / poll on his blog concerning facial hair. While most of his options were just disconcerting (and fairly creepy), it did make me want to grow a mustache. The idea lingered for a while...

A couple of weeks ago, I had a full goatee (well, as full as MINE gets, anyway). I decided to shave it off (itchy) on a Sunday night. While lathering up, I made the quick decision to leave the 'stache and see how fantastically terrible it would be. I wasn't disappointed! When Allison came in and reacted to it (what IS that???), I knew it had to stay! As we laid in bed watching TV, she kept looking over at me and making the "your wife is seriously grossed out" sound. Fodder for the flame!!

I knew most of my co-workers (the ones who lambaste me the most) were out of town, so I wore it to work on Monday. My boss noticed it immediately and almost fell over laughing at me. Fodder, fodder...

After 1 day of stroking my 'stache and joining with the laughers (and haters), I shaved it off. It was fun while it lasted, but good riddance.

I was giving my best Inspector Jacques Clouseau facial expression, as one must do when sporting a 'stache.