4:14 p.m. - 2007-11-05
What it do, diaryland?
I’ve grown a moustache. A full on douche-bag style 70’s porn moustache. My motivation was watching Raising Arizona again. If H.I. can have one, I can too. For fucks sake.
The truth of it is I got mighty bored with my old goatee moustache combo. I also wanted to do a little experiment, sorta like when Tyra Banks wore a fat suit to see if people treated her differently than when she walked around looking all supermodel. I’m sad to say, they did. And I’m sad to say, I somehow know that Tyra Banks did this having never watched her show or ever wanting to hear anything about it. And I’m ashamed to say I may even have wanted to know about it less had I thought she was fat. I doubt it though.
Also, sad to say, that my own experiment has proven to be a success, but it does have some flaws. Yes, people do treat me more like a douche since I have been sporting the douche-bag moustache. Yes, people seem to trust me less. But the stats may be skewed this way and that by a certain factor. This factor is not quantifiable, but I suspect, highly, that I AM more of a douche while wearing this moustache.
In other moustache news, Little Minh-Ngoc (my gf and partner in crime and roommate who shall be referred to as LMN from this point on) hates it. Dearly. What I mean to say is LMN hates my moustache dearly.
“But baby”, I protest, “now you can imagine that I am Burt Reynolds or Magnum P.I. when I do you! I won’t even get mad!”
No avail. Seems she would rather imagine some hairless Asian man while we make sweet love. This is the only reasonable conclusion I can reach as to why she would hate my moustache, and so dearly mind you. She does seem to enjoy the sweet love we make while I am wearing the douche-bag moustache, but the factor here could be that I am imagining that I am Burt Reynolds or Magnum P.I. while I do her.
Sexual relationships are difficult.