“No intelligent man wears a mustache voluntarily – you can write that down.” Sam Neill
Some people might have noticed that for the last three weeks I have been sporting a mustache. Not because I like it mind you, but mostly because I am lazy. Confidentially, I am a slothful creature.
Shaving is a tedious operation that I postpone as often as possible (especially on rainy days), and lately, it rained a lot. So, I went without shaving for a few days, and when I finally did it, I foolishly spared the upper lip. It looked at me so imploringly that I relented.
I cannot help it, I am a soft-hearted individual.
But I will have you know that living with a mustache is a high maintenance job. It is very demanding and like a colleen, it needs to be pampered. The damn thing grows so fast that I have to groom it every day, and I have better things to do than trimming my cookie-duster.
I can spend 3 or 4 days without shaving, but I cannot do the same with my lip foliage. It grows insidiously fast and interferes with my eating and kissing. Some hairy girls will tell you that “A kiss without a mustache is like a beefsteak without mustard” but you cannot have steak every day.
A mustache might look cool and attractive to the other sex, but ultimately it is a nuisance. It demands too much attention and takes away from my steely eyes and my voluntary chin. So I did the deed, I shaved it off!
I indulge in a mustache fantasy about every ten years. If you want to see me again wearing some face fungus, meet me at the top of the Empire State Building in a decade. “Anything can happen, don’t you think?”
So, it is “goodbye mustache” time.
Adios mustachio mio. It was fun while it lasted, but everything must end. You will be fondly remembered but not missed.
Hasta la vista baby!