The Dining Hall Manager
Tuesday, March 31st, 2009
In the morning with the sun, to the bathroom I do run,
Head towards the mirror can’t wait to see, glorious moustache smiling back at me,
For thirty days I’ve had this look, its length reflects the time it took,
But it hasn’t been all fine and dandy, to share a look with South Park’s Randy,
“Its looks so stupid” I hear you shout, But you’re nothing to write home about,
It’s obvious you lack the balls, to venture outside comfort’s walls,
All your excuses and outright lies, can’t hide the fear behind those eyes,
No use denying you are a gay, what’s butt sex feel like anyway?
A tough decision it was to make, enduring stares and double takes,
My girlfriend’s face showed pure perplex, which lead to many days sans sex,
And through it all I stood my ground, moustache was groomed and mind was sound,
But sadness now reflects in mirror, the time to shave it off grows nearer,
We’re close you know moustache and me, I watch you grow you watch me pee,
We check out girls and get in fights, surf online porn sites late at night,
This month we ran our first 5k, got hammered on St. Patrick’s Day,
Together there were good times had, to me you’re more than just a fad,
And when it all is said and done, at end of day I still have one,
I’m proud of it and it of me, this month long costume I got for free,
Tomorrow I’m supposed to shave, at that point it’s ok to cave,
Well fuck that shit is what I say, I think I’ll keep it one more day.

Anycrap, while I think it may be fair to say that just about any submission will likely pale in comparison to that of Mr. McGee, I wanted to share a few snapshots of my afternoon along the Capitol grounds.
And on a random note, the small gathering of people behind the large banners to my left was a group protesting against circumcision. I’m not sure if you intend this website to be as apolitical as possible, but in case there were any of you out there who may be in sympathy with such movements, you can rest easier tonight knowing that you and yours are not alone.
One of Alex’s worst anxieties has always stemmed from the relative proximity of Bend to San Francisco, and this fear was fully realized when Saul, sick and tired of the blatant liberalism of the Bay Area, packed a suitcase full of dirty clothes, sports jackets, and moustache wax and purchased a one-way train ticket north.
After making himself comfortable on Tim’s couch, turning Tim’s study into a walk-in closet, and joining an upscale local gym, the only thing left for Saul to do was inform his new landlord that he would be staying for an undetermined length of time, fully expected board as well as room, and would not be paying so much as a penny in rent while in residence.
Although his primary goal in Bend was to drive his friends’ meat-pie stand into the ground, Saul was also keen on finding work after months and months of endless loafing. However, he was shocked to discover that the media accounts of the recession which he had previously written off as yellow journalism turned out to have some truth to them after all. And in short order, the desperate times drove the hapless hobo into the always-booming migrant labor industry.
You can see him here, making full use of his Master’s Degree as he picks juniper berries at $30 a bucket for the local gin distillery.
It is hard, thankless work, but fortunately there is plenty of down-time as well, even with the hundreds of hours per week that binge-drinking with Mitch takes up. Naturally enough, Alex and Saul’s preferred leisure activity is to saunter down to the local bathhouse, where they join all the other couples in steamy gratuitous displays of what Max bizarrely termed “Romosexualism.”
But whether picking berries or frolicking in steambaths, the one thing that doesn’t change is the crisp line of waxed hair running across his upper lip. That always remains consistent.*
* This actually did change as well. Saul – allegedly – was found with a razor in Alex and Mitch’s bathroom just before getting in a bitter argument with Enterprise and barreling down Route 101 in a bright-red Cobalt, adorned in a vivid pink tie, to a Motel 6 in Gilroy, California, prior to an interview for a coveted Professorship.

This photo is about to rock the moustachio world of Wish We Weren’t Friends. I cannot divulge too much info about what happened as the case is still pending.
I will say that while in Jail for roughly 36 hours, the moustache was a very comforting and status elevating piece of lip fur. Without the piece, I think I would not have fit into the inmate community as well as I did. So this goes out to all of our ‘friends’ - If you are going to get arrested, make sure the hair on your upper lip is grown out, bushy, manicured or not, but highly visible - your stay on the inside will be much improved.
Ross

I wish I wasn’t friends with Geoff Pappas.
You like what you see?
Regards,
Jim Lovelace

