Going into the last Monday in March, I knew I had the makings of a perfect copstache. Of course, it would mean that I would have to buzzsaw off the beard I had grown and then get in and do the due detail around the lip area which I'm not so used to. And, as part of just wearing such a hideous stache, I would have to then walk all the way to work. I had agreed to just wear it for a half a day because I didn't want it to be too distractive to progress.
A few obvservations from behind the fur of a good moustache. People will find you trusting. I got offered a ride just out of the blew on my way to work. A man waived and then asked, "Hey, man. You need a ride somewhere?" I guess the moustache says, "stranded" while the beard says, "poor life decisions." Also, I found that it was difficult to hold respect in the workplace with a moustache. No one would look me in the eye and if they did, they would be overwhelmed by hilarity and would begin laughing. Lastly, while I already have difficulty with personal style, there's nothing that really goes with a moustache except for uniforms. You can't just pull off a plaid shirt and New Balances with a stache. They just don't jive.
I didn't make any arrest, but I probably deserved to be arrested. My lovely wife slept in so she could avoid me yesterday morning.
On another note, I guess my neighbor reads The Root Down because out of sheer spite, he put up two pink flamingos in his front yard between the windmill and the water well, just adjacent to the POW flag. Yeah, he's onto me and now he's just rubbing it in my face. I'm planning my rebuttal. I'm thinking about cutting the heads off of every animal in the yard. Remember, I'll have do it between the zoo's hours of 8AM and 6:30PM. This could be tricky.