While mustaches are kinda my thing, and I constantly wax poetic (pun totally intended) about the merits of the handlebar, the Groucho, the walrus, etc., there’s something that’s bothered me for years.
Let’s take a closer look, shall we?
“It’s probably just a shadow,” I told myself. But it continued to eat away at me. For the next five years. I could have been curing cancer, saving tigers Britney, learning sign language, but I was simply too busy worrying about It.
So. Last week I went to the drug store and picked up this:
The instructions mandated that I test it out and wait 24 hours to see if it caused an allergic reaction.
“That’s probably wise,” I thought.
Two seconds later, I was mixing the cream and slathering it on my face.
“If it starts burning, I’ll wipe it off,” I thought.
I waited the recommended 10 minutes, killing time by wondering if horse really tastes as good as people say, and whether Adam Levine’s tattoos make him more or less more sexy.
I don’t think that shiz worked at all. Look!
No but seriously. I think it did the trick. Thank gawd. Now I have time to learn how to sign, “Is Adam Levine a vegetarian?”
Sooo… how about sharing your embarrassing personal grooming stories? No? Um, okay, well, gosh. This is awkward.
Go Jules Go 