Day Four: The Bruiser

The Bruiser. The images that name conjures up: tough guy, brute, someone with a nasty temper who's quick to instigate a fight. Mess with me and there's gonna be trouble, see?

Yeeeeaaaah, that's not really me, so it came as no surprise that when I put it on this morning that's not quite the impression I got of myself while looking in the mirror. Not even close. Not even when I made my "angry face"; which, incidentally, not many people have seen. Truth be told it's pretty similar to my mildly irritated and constipated face. I meant those as two separate kinds of faces, by the way. Not that being constipated couldn't make someone mildly irritated, but I'm digressing again.  

Where was I? Oh yeah, looking in the mirror. Actually, in all honesty, the first thought that popped into my head (and I realize the danger in what I'm about to say) was ... "Daaa Bears." Now, for my friends here in California, that particular phrase probably doesn't mean much (it's actually from an old, really funny series of Saturday Night Live sketches mocking Chicago Bears fans), but for those of you in Wisconsin, it's a whole 'nother deal. You see the Green Bay Packers are playing the Chicago Bears (their bitter rivals) this weekend to see which of them are headed for the Super Bowl. Coming from a family of (mostly) hardcore Packer fans, I wouldn't want to lead anyone back there to think I won't be rooting for the green and gold via a fake mustache. Thems would be fightin' whiskers. Anyway, enough football talk.

So after installing The Bruiser, I walked out to greet the wife and kids and was shocked to hear not a single comment about the new 'stache. Not even my 5-year-old daughter acknowledged it. Could it be true? Just four days in and daddy's sudden admittedly odd behavior of wearing a different fake mustache every day had officially (apparently) become "normal" to her. I started to wonder what kind of psychological impact this was having on her, not to mention on my 6-month-old son who has absolutely no clue what's going on and now probably thinks he has 5 different (one without a mustache for those of you who thought I did the math wrong), yet somewhat similar fathers. Ah well, they gotta have something to tell their future psychiatrists, right? Enough about your mother; tell me more about your father ...

Off to work. Someone gave me the simple, yet brilliant idea to get a bucket and set it out so people could drop their donations into it. So I made up a sign, added a couple of my goofiest 'stache-ified pictures to it and put it out in a common area. It worked great -- people really started showing their support, but it also had an unexpected side effect. I'm now known to several people at work (some who I don't think even know my real name) as "Mustache Man" -- as in "Hey, it's mustache man!" I'm a little concerned this name may stick long after this is over ... not sure I want to be remembered as Mustache Man. I did this to myself.

One more thing worth mentioning is the fact that a friend of mine by the name of Bridget McCarthy was nice enough to mention my plight in her own blog and, as a result, I actually got a donation from someone I've never even met. That, my friends, is the power of the internet right there ... very cool indeed. Thank you Bridget and thank you stranger!

So thanks, too, to all of you who have already donated ... it is very much appreciated. We are, generally speaking, at the halfway point of Mustache-a-palooza, with only 3 more days to go. What will tomorrow's be? Something tells me there just might be a new Sheriff in town.

Yee-haw!