For approximately 3 months or 90ish days now, I have been the
proud (yet often despairing) owner of my very own bona-fide 'slug'.
A venture that spanned from a period of yearning, and a side agreement with a good friend that involved the month of April and no razors.
It has now spiralled into a way of life, perhaps even an obsession.
Throughout this time I have endured taunts and ridicule
"it looks like a landing strip, you need towax your face", "man you look like Hitler more and more each day".
But with the bad has come the good "Its not Mo-vember yet mate".
This one I was particularly pleased with as it was out of a moving van
from distance which I interpreted to myself as " fuck yeah its officially legit".
Needless to say I was pretty chuffed for the rest of my walk.
I have also noted throughout this time that I've become part of some sort of
club or society. Whereby public acknowledgment is rampant by members of
this same fraternity. Just the other day I was happily minding my own business
in the lift of the Holiday Inn hotel. Had my ipod blaring. Enjoying the upward motion of the lift
(its a new hotel so the lifts have that smooth acceleration thing going on). When all of a sudden this guy in the lift tapped me on the shoulder and (I shit you not) told me "I like your work mate".
I was like "huh w.t.f" he just put his finger over his lip and nodded. I jumped out on the next floor a little bemused, how was I meant to feel after this?
A similar incident occurred during the Wellington Food Show as I was handing out
hot chocolate samples to the hundreds of gannets who had found there way to
nest of free food and samples. Dazed and confused by the constant groping and lunging at my tray of hot ambrosia I spun around in the sea of meaningless faces and was greeted by the
almost stealthy "nice slug mate". Again I murmured "wtf" as I searched out this compliment ninja but as quickly as it happened it was over. Who was he and why did he say that?
Maybe it's similar to the way truck drivers flick their indicators at each other when the drive past one another, or perhaps unbeknownst to myself. I have been neglecting the sanctity and code of the mustache practitioner. Whatever it is? It has definitely been
a journey, and as I near the shore of a smooth upper lip. I feel pleased in the knowledge that if I ever feel alone or despondant there is a community out there who will
embrace me (or anyone) for that matter based on their facial hair dexterity.
