Machismo y Bigote

About 84% of people I know, who know who there father is, have baby photos from a land of hair follicle covered upper lipped dads smiling with glee and joy over there newest tax right offs. It feels that the kids who dads didn't have a mustache in their baby photos were kids who ended up roller blading or buying those shoes meant for aggressive walking. So, as to save my child of the social stigmas of doing un-cool things, I have for the past 7 weeks been growing a beard, a beard for baby. I will shave off the rest when the chap/gal comes, so I will have a Sam elliot/Wyatt Earp/Kaiser Wilhelm style mustache to proudly embarrass my children when they see old photos of the care-er and provider.


To the expected chagrin of Sarah, I have increasing met resistance to this mustache during the holiday season. The main culprit being the wife herself. With the acreage of the mustache I am capable it is a shame that in the eleven years of knowing her I have never be able to fully unleash the potential wrath of my mustache. She claims she is feeling especially disconnected during the holiday season as in her word "there is a mustache between us". Apparently cozing up to a thick amber patch of hair on ones upper lip doesn't co relate to an emotional bond people (Sarah) seeks.

I have also be getting crap from family members who A) note that I have a red beard and brown/gray hair, and apparently that angers them; and B) I look like a long shore men, which doesn't fly in the desert southwest because of lack of a shore and any type of deep sea fishing industry. I say nay, a mustache, like fatherhood and risque situations involving animals and or guns, is a right of passage for a man. Where do you think dad strength comes from, where does that look in a fathers eye when you are mis-behaving come from? The source of power is the mustache, clinical studies have proven this. I will hang tough and welcome my child with a whiskery, salty, whatever I ate that day kiss from my mustachioed lip, this I declare.

So me and the wife, who apart from my facial hair, is especially annoyed not being able to have wine or beer during the holiday festivities, are going to experience the 1.4 billion dollar train ride that takes us from no where we live near to no where we need to go today. It should be a gas, we went to a Hot dog buffet surprise party last night for Ben, which aside from local folk rock icons kicking holes in our friends wall, was a great time, and we suggest hot dog themed party's replace Bar Mitzvah's and Flag day. So we are going to (I am) drink away he whisky-krought (I will explain later)hangover with water and a lunch downtown.

Til next time.