Filthy Sanchez

When it comes to facial hair, I've done it all. Moustache, goatee (both half and full goat), Frazier Crane-style beard, full beard, 90210-style sideburns, giant porkchop sideburns, mutton chops. The gamut. The full spectrum. When my wife and I first met, I was clean shaven. Or, clean shaven by my standards. Meaning no cultivated hair arrays of the type mentioned above. But daily shaving? Not so much. When my wife to be saw a picture of me with a goatee (taken at approximately 4:00am after drinking waaay too much beer) she promptly told me I could never grow a goatee again. A few years later I did, and she actually learned to like it. I'm back to (mostly) bald at the current moment. Probably OK for someone who works in Corporate America and has frequent interactions with members of the PTA.

However, I like change. A week or so ago my wife was on the phone with somebody and I heard her say, "I told Pete he can never grow a moustache." Hmmm, sounds like a challenge doesn't it? But she's safe in this instance. I have a picture, buried somewhere, of me with a moustache. It's not good. I don't need to carry the picture with me, a la Jimmy James (Yep, that is me with a mustache. I carry this with me whenever I can, so if I ever get the urge to make myself over, I just look at this, and damn near throw up.) because I can remember the details quite clearly. I'm sitting on a couch in my friend Tim's apartment. I'm wearing a paper sombrero from some local Mexican place. I had a bottle of Pfeiffer in my hand. It is damn near enough to make me throw up.

So in an effort to quash any potential leaning toward growing hair, I finally put the moustache bars on the Schwinn.

Date: May 30
Mileage: 14
Ride type: Commute
May mileage: 289
Year to date mileage: 1476