NOTE: The post below contains a single picture of me, C-dog, sporting only a mustache on an otherwise shaved face. It is not for the faint of heart or for those prone to easy barfing. You have been warned.
I want, in a shamefully ironic sort of way, to have a mustache. I think mustaches are funny and, when combined with indie dance rock, say, or well-worn pair of corduroy
pants, they can actually be quite stylish. And, no, I'm not proud
of these hipsterish
leanings; I like I to pretend that I'm just kind of a "whatever" guy, but there's no getting around the fact that a small, sad part of me wants desperately to be cool. Living in NY, the cool with which I most come into contact is, generally speaking, a bunch of skinny, sullen men in t-shirts promoting bands I've never heard of and with hair that is unique (to say the least) and they look like people who know movie stars, or at least know where they hang out. And most of these coolsy
guys... they have mustaches.
Now, granted, being this particular kind of cool gets to be a bit exhausting after awhile (I assume). Sometimes you just want to sit around the house in old sweats and watch the better part of a Mythbusters
marathon and only get off the couch to poo. I'm not saying I want to be a scene-blasting hipster 24/7, AND YA DON'T STOP or anything. I'd just like to switch bodies with Brandon Flowers for a fortnight like in the George Burns I-need-money-for-more-cigars flick 18 Again
. I want, just once, to walk into a dark bar filled with beautiful people and not immediately
be mistaken for the guy that's come to repair the broken toilet in the men's room.
Anyway, I've gotten pretty far afield of my post-title stated point here, which was, if you'll remember, that I can never have a mustache. Why? Because a mustache... and ONLY a mustache... on my specific face looks just awful. See:
Yikes. It's like a cop with a desk job in a small town gave birth to a guy who likes to hang around junior high parking lots asking 8th grade girls to friend him on Facebook so they can talk about Twilight. I have never in my entire life looked so sad and creepy as I do in this picture. Not to mention doughy; all the carbs in the world, slathered with all the butter ever made, are I believe hiding just below my face.
Ugh... I keep involuntarily shuddering. If I ever get arrested for selling boosted speakers out the back of a dented Chevy conversion van, the police won't even need to take a mugshot; I've thoughtfully done the job for them. Seeing myself sporting a mustache like that makes me more depressed than that commercial for the ASPCA with all the sad dogs. This is like dying and finding out that God is indeed real, but that he's just not that into you.
Everything is black, everything is wrong, my mustache is hate.
Anyway, I shaved it off immediately after I took that picture, because OBVIOUSLY. Walking around like that in broad daylight could get a guy arrested, or at least beaten up by concerned citizens who think I might try to lure their children into an abandoned building with the promise of a free iPod.
But here's the thing I don't get... I wear a mustache all the time!!! With a beard attached, sure, but the mustache is still there. What is it about the beard that mitigates the mustache's inherent awfulness? Why does the beard make it all okay? I mean, I guess it lessens the shock value a little bit... my face, mostly hairy, is easier to stomach than my face, shockingly nude, save for a mean little strip of patchy, blond, fuzz that makes meth dealers weep with envy. Frankly, I find that unfair. It's like I'm being denied an essential part of manhood... the mighty 'stache... by my own lousy genetics (my father looks foolish with a mustache as well, thought not quite to the levels of Shakespearean tragedy that I achieve).
Whatever. Lousy cool people with their mustaches. Lousy me, all clean-shaven and dull. Mustaches... you've broken my heart.
Oh, and sorry again that you had to see that picture of me sporting a mustache. Sorry I ruined your Friday, your lunch, your sex drive, and your faith in religion. But now you understand why I can never have a mustache.