THE STACHE

Many of you are probably curious (or envious) about the Razorboy's burgeoning moustache.

No?

Oh, uh...well...

Yes you are, you silly-billys.

Why?

Why am I cultivating the Canadian Mountie, 70s anchorman staple, the lip rug?

To be ironic, that's why.

So far the feedback has been magnificent. My wife has threatened to have papers drawn up if I keep growing it. The daughters will no longer kiss their father goodnight or goodbye. (The oldest is worried contact will prompt hair growth on her upper lip) Acquaintances have referred to it as everything from "cheesey" and "sparse" to "Rett Butler-esque" and "Muskateer-like". Strangers (especially pubescent boys) have stared in ah, while the frail and sickly have asked to touch it for strength.

In order to have this stache reach its full, bushy potential I've been starting each day by smearing a rogaine/propecia/sasquatch-urine concoction on it, and I have also consulted many of the worlds great moustache growers - Lanny MacDonald, Quenneville, Ditka, Sam Elliot, and Rosie O'Donnell, just to name a few.

Of course there have been skeptics, some of whom have been quite mean spirited. One jealous critic suggested I stop the pathetic charade and have a cat lick it off. (We mock what we can not do, or do not understand)

How long will I stay the course? Only time and marital/domestic affairs will tell.

Enjoy it while it's on display cause like the late John Holmes' and his wispy p-stache, its just an accessory, not the featured attraction.

Hey now!