For all things Tooks, and some things, er, relating to other people. As well as to other things. You get the picture.

29 March 2005

austin is seriously digging my mustache.

it's getting intense. before, there was just a chin beard (somewhat more ample than a goatee), and it had moderate sideburns as buddies on the block, and austin was cool with that. people nodded at me. i didn't sign any autographs, and no women required powerful sedatives to control themselves as they passed me on the street.

then came the era of the 'stache. i grew it on a whim, as i tend to do once a year or so. mostly the whim is this: i think i'll grow out the lip shrubbery again--maybe this time i won't look so much like somebody's creepy uncle who lives in michigan. also, whimmed my whim, maybe those two little bare patches on either side of my mouth will fill in just a little bit, dammit.

and lo and behold--i don't and they did! and it's kind of killer. i submit the following anecdotes as evidence:

1) the girlfriend winces when we kiss (shut up, wise guy, i saw that one coming and you'll have to do better than that) since it's a very spiky 'stache, but she told me not to shave it yet, 'cause it's badass (my word, not hers, but i read between the lines).

2) three people at work (only two of which like me very much) have told me they like my beard, which translates to my mustache since i got no similar compliments on the mere chin beard.

3) two mexicans told me they like it, and mexicans are professionals when it comes to mustaches. they know from mustaches, and mine is padre, buey.

but i don't want you to take my word for it, and i'm willing to put my money where my mustache is, so to speak: soon (don't ask me when) will commence in this blogosphere the first-ever mustache poll, where people from all over the internet will be allowed to weigh in on the 'stache, and even to decide the fate of the my hairy bigotes. first, of course, i must needs post a picture of said bigotes, which will require some technological training from my IT guru (aka my girlfriend). however, look soon for a picture of my lip-hair (not my hair lip) on this blog, and form your own unbiased opinion--be the first on your block!. i will post some categories of discernment (e.g. overall hipness, fullness, shape, similarity to creepy michigan uncle, etc.) and you'll be the judge. and it will be called....American Mustache.

to get you in the mood, and as a sweet closer, here's the etymology of mustache, swiped from look out--it might just surprise you (greek?! who'd a thunk it?):

French moustache, from Italian dialectal mustaccio, from Medieval Greek moustakion, from Greek mustax, mustache, upper lip.

admire my moustakion with me,

10 March 2005

two things of mild interest happened to me recently:

1) i met a person yesterday who had never heard of the beatles. i'll say that again: i met a person yesterday who had never heard of the beatles.






whoa. granted, she's from another country, one in which not everybody speaks english or listens to american rock and roll. but still. whoa.

2) my girlfriend cracked me up for the seven hundred thousandth time. this is her response to my gripe that she never reads my blog:

"i am your blog. i don't have to read it--i live it." kind of like louis xiv: "l'etat, c'est moi."


wonder about the possibility of a coup de blog with me,

05 March 2005

contrary to popular wishes--you howling, bloodthirsty mob, you--i was not kidnapped in colombia. my ears were not sliced off and mailed to my loved ones along with notes in badly written spanish asking for an exorbitant sum in exchange for the safe return of the rest of my anatomy (intact). i was not caught in the crossfire of the guerillas and the paras. i was not car-bombed. i was not captured, cooked, and consumed by the one of the few remaining tribes deep in the heart of the sweltering, throbbing amazon. in fact, the worst thing that happened was that i had the big d and yarfed in the same inodoro in the span of five minutes. otherwise, lo pasamos chancho--we had a blast.

three major conclusions come out of my trip:

1) my lovely girlfriend has eighteen hundred aunts and four hundred thousand cousins. they live in five households in various parts of colombia.

2) there are more kinds of fruits in colombia, horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy. many of these have no name in english. you just have to have faith.

3) little boys are happiest on a farm. it lets them get dirty and smelly and helps them grow up strong, without regrets. young man, put down your guns and your playstation and leave your motor car along the roadside. go to the country, ride a mule and milk a goat. sell the milk and give the money to your mother. pick a strawberry and eat it. wipe your chin with your sleeve. these things will do you good.

so--vacations can be very awesome, especially ones in colombia. thanks to the compadres and everyone who showed us such amazing kindness and generosity and buena onda. ya regresamos--be back soon.

return to her tierra natal with me,