This came in yesterday from Rory-not-Chainsaw-Class-of-2000:

I’ve got yet another last minute submission for the 2008 Moustache Gallery.  One of my roommates and I took part in this glorious celebration of the ’stache and wanted to share the cookie dusters that had been growing here in SoHo with the rest of the world.  Of course, this became a little bit more complicated after Dr. Douchebag DDS came up with an unbelievably well done, though completely gay (who took those pictures anyway?), photo spread.  No, after seeing these shots of Baker it became clear that we needed to put some more thought into the project.  After much deliberation, American Amber Ale and Scotch Whisky the other morning we realized that it was already March 29th and we needed to act quickly lest the month slip away from us.  So we set to work putting together our audio-visual tribute to the moustache.  You will find the results attached…

        Dave sent me a cache of videos from a CVS disposable camera illustrating just how sexy we are "late night" after 37 consecutive games of Beirut and four arguments about whether Gabe Kapler or Tom Brady looks better in the showers.  You know that time in the night, girls, when you wonder if maybe you should just stay and let your annoying friends go home alone because they are in a bad mood and they’re fat and they never get laid anyways? And then you realize you’re an insecure, characterless loaf who would do better going along so you can check Facebook and happily fart out your lunchtime Cobb salad?

This is how we celebrate.

    Mike in remnants of a three-piece suit, Alex in drag, and Gabe acting “French.” Pretty standard really. Please enjoy this pathetic, embarrassing episode from our pre-pubescent period. At least mine.  Pay attention to Mike’s skinny face, Gabe’s ability to hide his birthmark even before plastic surgery, and Alex’s urge to become a tranny.

And to think we were sober!

What’s funnier than that is how low this website has stooped: to the level of middle school language video projects. Bad ones. Come on, kids, get a grip.

Remember this?

“Did we let the fact that we were a group of overweight, undersexed 20- something creeps in an underage Wentworth party stop us from having a good time?”

And this?

“Tom – busy on the phone with EBA’s as he tried to order chicken sandwiches and cheesy fries – grew flustered as he tried to speak to two people at once, and could only agree with Noah wholeheartedly. The matter might have died there, had their words not been caught by the always-attentive Alex. Infuriated that he was being left out of a conversation about fat, he lost little time in confidently claiming the title for himself.”

Let’s pull it together like the Souheagan Girls Soccer team and make this thing work. Life support is a bad place to be, but it’s better than being on the same couch as Mike in a ratshit apartment in Boston.
   

As everyone knows, WWWF is run from two offices: WWWF East, and WWWF Central. (This is, of course, working under the assumption that two locations that are 270 miles apart can be considered the same office.) In general, content comes from the East, and development comes from the Central.

Recently, however, a fledgling branch has sprung up: WWWF West. Led by moustacheod hero in a viking helmet, WWWF has been responsible for quite a bit of site content, and they deserve some recognition.

This, however, is a horrendous contribution, and it took weeks of debate between the two main offices to determine whether or not it should be on the site. But Alex is going to Alaska, Gabe is lazy, and we’re all still waiting for Tim’s first post. This leaves only Saul, and while his accounts of potential romances going south are amusing, some variety is needed. (From my vantage point, Saul appears to be standing on the romantic North Pole, which explains the southern bent.)

Anyway, the following video was sent to WWWF Central with the following note:

Incase you were wondering this is what we have been up to in Utah, yes those are Courtney’s clothes.

Watch at your own risk. Again, we’re sorry. If you have a better submission (Read: ANY submission) please send it to admin@wishwewerentfriends.com

Last Saturday saw a thrilling, white-knuckled, down-to-the-wire contest between Alex and Tom as they sought to establish dominance in the only field that matters – fatness. Performing in front of a packed room, Alex and Tom’s thickly-matted hair and quivering folds of flesh had a near-hypnotic affect on the riveted spectators, who watched in rapt attention as the two pirouetted and spun before them. Only Pappas and Tyler ignored the action as they sat side-by-side in the living room, snoring peacefully together.

The contest was sparked by Noah’s commenting to Tom that he seemed to have gained a noticeable amount of weight recently. Tom – busy on the phone with EBA’s as he tried to order chicken sandwiches and cheesy fries – grew flustered as he tried to speak to two people at once, and could only agree with Noah wholeheartedly. The matter might have died there, had their words not been caught by the always-attentive Alex. Infuriated that he was being left out of a conversation about fat, he lost little time in confidently claiming the title for himself.
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To fully lay the groundwork for this year’s celebration, we continue our look back at last year. Here, set to the music of Paul Simon, (Until Columbia’s lawyers send us a C&D) is some old-timey footage of a non-old-timey event: Shaving Party NYC 2006.