well,
Yesterday was a new low for my overall stache experience.
I was in an elevator on my way down from the 9th floor to hotel lobby. The elevator door open on the 6th floor, where two little girls (around the age of 7, i guess) were waiting to board.
They both look at me with what can only be described as a look of terror on their faces and studderd: "ummm... we... umm... we ... we will wait for the next one..."
My mustache has become so unholy that it frightens children.
Top that.
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There is a pestilence upon this land, nothing is sacred. Even those who arrange and design shrubberies are under considerable economic stress in this period in history.
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