There Are Certain Things In This World That Should Not Be

And a wispy, blond mustache on my upper lip is one of them.

So I shaved my month long beard yesterday. But I couldn't bring myself to let that blank canvass go unused. So I left myself a nearly invisible Larry Bird. (It's there, I promise.) Now there are a lot of guys out there that can rock a good mustache. Tom Sellick, Ned Flanders, The Brawney Man, my uncle Bill, Kurt Russell in Tombstone. But I am not among them.

Seriously, this thing is visual equivalent of a toxic fart cloud, lingering in the air. You don't know that it's there until you get kinda close and then the sheer offensive nature of it punches you right in the face. Last night I went to a party at my friend's house. People would come up to say hello and then recoil in horror. "Hey Brian, how are y. . WHOAH! When did you grow that thing?" The facial expression of recognizing an ugly blond mustache is the exact same as being assaulted by someone's invisible flatulence. (Pretty sure that was my first fart joke.)

A couple of years ago, I grew a four month beard. It was glorious. I didn't touch it. Didn't trim it, didn't tighten it. I just liberated my manliness. I looked like Hamish from Braveheart, except not filthy. When I finally decided to break out the hedge clippers and shave the thing, I again kept the mustache. This one was similar to my current stache, but even nastier.

Well, later that day I got my oil changed in my car. While I was waiting, I went across the street to Rubio's there in Sugarhouse to have myself a fish taco. It was the lunch rush, so I ended up waiting in line for a fair amount of time. There was a young mother in line ahead of me with a little girl who was probably 5 or 6 years old. The little girl was bored in line and started hopping on the different colored tiles on the floor. She would only step on the red ones that were spaced far apart from the other green tiles. I remember think that it's so interesting how little kids can make a game out of anything. Here we are stuck in a line. We're hungry and impatient and she finds a way to have fun while I just get aggravated by the slow service. It was a nice, innocent observation.

It was at this time that the mother noticed me and immediately corralled her kid so that she was in between me and her daughter in a defensive motion. I had totally forgotten that I had shaved that morning. So there I am, some giant creepy looking guy with a dirty, wispy mustache smiling at her five year old daughter. I scared the hell out of that poor woman. I shaved it off the second I got home.

Lady, you did the right thing. I am absolutely not any kind of threat, but your instincts are well honed. Needless to say, I haven't hung around any playgrounds today. I was tempted to catch a matinee of "Up", but I figure it would be best to shave before I go to a darkened room filled with children for two hours. I don't need the Chris Hansen from Dateline busting me in the parking lot.

"So what are you doing here?"

"I was just watching the movie." (Cameras come out of no where to surround me.) "Seriously, I never have a mustache. It's just a joke!"