No, we are not gringos simply mispronouncing everyone in Texas's favorite reason to drink in the early part of May. There is a method and a madness to Cinco de Mustache.
The first thing you do is shave.
Completely.
Well, all of your face, at least.
This happens on April 1st.
You end up looking something like this:
Then you let your facial hair grow. Weeks pass. First, you realize you can use your chin as sand paper, then the itching sets in, and sometime in there your fiancee refuses to kiss you anymore because of the scruff on your face.
At that point, you look vaguely like this:
More time passes. There is a noticeable lack of comment from your co-workers. The end of April looms. Something to your right distracts you:
Before you know it, it's the 5th of May. 35 days of not touching a blade. 35 days of not having to try and remember the last time you shaved.
So how does one celebrate this momentous occasion?
You go to the store, buy a can of shaving cream, and some razors, and you cut your beard into the most fantastic and whimsical thing you can think of, invite your friends over for fajitas and boozamahol, and take pictures of your face.
This was the best I could come up with. I call it the "Fucked-up-lemmy-with-sideburns":
The Captain couldn't make it to the party...
...but his Mirror Universe counterpart could. (yes, we are, in fact, geeks. This should not be that big a surprise) (side note, blogger thinks shouldn't is not a word)
The good Dr pulled off the actually Lemmy quite well.
The paisley gentlemen went with a rather boring pointy sideburns, which he seems inordinately proud of...
wait... no, he had a goatee and sideburns combo:
wait... something's not right....
oh, the horror!
I honestly think he was as surprised as we were.
We did not shave half the puppy, despite her claims that it would make her better at stealing things:
All in all, it was a great bad idea.
Awesome.
ReplyDelete