Sam Elliott Eat Your Heart Out

I slept late on Friday so I didn't shave before work. Didn't feel like shaving on Saturday because its the weekend and I'm a dude therefore I do what I want. Sunday was heathen/beach/mother's day or as I like to look at it, an opportunity. I wanted to see if I was sly enough to walk out of the house with a mustache. This is one of those things that girl's can see even if they're three rooms away. They know when the stache is present because it exudes absolute awesomeness. Apparently the awesomeness on mine had petered out a bit or not quite reached it's potential depending on if you're a glass is half empty/half full type of person. I actually made it out of the house and into the car fully muffed and I had a decision to make. Do I tell Kristen now or do I fully commit? I committed. Hindsight being what it is, I now wish Kristen was more intuitive.

We made it halfway to the beach before she beheld me in my full, facial glory (I will thank you not to make a sick joke out of that but if you do, then bully for you). She slapped me. At least that's what she says she did. Felt more like an elbow to my jaw but I'll yield to her on this one. At this point, I feel pretty cool and pretty confident. Let me also mention that I have my aviator sunglasses on. We make it out to Isle of Palms with Kristen walking quite a few feet ahead of me so you can't even tell we're together. From the parking lot, you have to walk past a children's playground on the way to the beach. We set up our stuff and then I ran back to use the rest room, having to pass the playground again. I take a look in the mirror, sunglasses still on. Good God Almighty, I look like a cross between Lt. Dangle from Reno 911 and Kip from Napoleon Dynamite. I'm in trouble and I have to walk past the damn playground for a third time to get back to my beach chair. I'm not saying that the parents were necessarily staring, but I sure wished Kristen and her flying elbows were a little closer when I was walking by to defend my honor. Maybe if I would have taken off the sunglasses, it would reduce the impact of the stereotyping going on but then people might know who I am if they saw these beautiful blue eyes.

Once I made it back to the beach chair I didn't move and I didn't look at anyone. I kept a book around my face. When we finally decided to leave, I thought I'd play it cool and act like I was scratching my nose the whole way back. I don't really recommend that because you wind up looking like your picking your nose for 100 yards as I walked by the playground AGAIN. Needless to say, the mustache experiment came to an end the second I walked back into our house. I'm back on my neckbeard quest because that will must make me look even bad assier. We shall see.

On a completely different note, might I point out that the best beach volleyball movie ever made was on tv Saturday night. Side-Out rivals only the shirtless, blue jeaned volleyball scene from Top Gun as the imagery most likely to get Chris Noland to play volleyball.