Hello there. Look at the calendar. November. Getting a little warmer in the topsy-turvy southern hemisphere. Hmm, I guess that would be counterintuitive to increasing facial hair then. Now, look at the top of this page, the browser address thing on the interweb stuff pageload protocol whatsit. Canberramos. Canberramos. CanberraMOS. Oh for those plural days, when not only could you stroke your own little nasal fuzzstrip with satisfying pleasure, but you could marvel in the butchness of those around you.
Dispirited (and, more so, frightened by how scary one can look after 30 days solid), things in the face buddy stakes were a little tardy this year, not wishing to scare off small children and all. But there’s no keeping a good mo down, and since it has been catching up fast, I have been scouring the city looking forlornly for my old mo buddies. Where would men with extraordinary facial specimens hang out? Perhaps waiting to get married by Tony Abbott? No, not likely. Hmm, under the bridge with the other hairy hoboes? Nah, I think they get swept up by the Keep Canberra Comfortable police.
Ooh, this could be promising... the bush, home to many a dodgy mo-faced friend. A path called the Gandalf Trail. He had a big white mo for a bit, right? (Plus he was a bit of a show off with fancy party tricks I have to say). No way, you fool of a Took.
I’ve climbed the highest mountains, scouring the landscape for giant caterpillars attached to gentlemen’s heads, sniffing out pockets of testosterone, but still no luck. For some reason the lyrics ‘All by moself, don’t wanna be all by moself...’ swirl around my beautiful head. Just where have all my mo bros gone?
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Meanwhile, at that very moment, in Brisbane, Queensland, a young man of great courage and willingness to be mocked pitifully for his attempts at looking manly stirred. Something wasn’t quite right. Something was appearing on his face, taking over his life. For some reason he felt the urge to call his old guru of strategic facial hair generation, to reconnect, to reminisce and to think about how free and liberated we were
(I think, with some hindsight, merely by fact of scaring everyone within a 50 metre radius). Like Powderfinger in a couple years time when they need a bit of cash, we needed to re-form.
What happened next was the stuff of fairy tales. Like magic (hmm, perhaps that Gandalf dude does have something to do with it), little hairy slugs were breaking out around our young hero. The bonds of brotherhood were extending like a curly handlebar moustache out to others blessed with the necessary testosterone levels and undoubted attraction to the fairer sex.
So good on Brisbane, soon to be home of the victorious English in the first test. The balance of butchness may have switched, but the moral of the story remains the same. Men up and down the land get ill, they do suffer and often this could be prevented. Awareness and earlier diagnosis of prostate cancer. Support and help and just something to break down the stigmas and barriers of mental health. We do this, we look stupid, we write random rubbish on this blog because we are men and we love other men.
Please support us if you can... by making a donation following the instructions on the top right of this page, or giving one of your own facially-challenged men in your life a little cash. Or even just a nice manly hug. You will feel as good on the inside as we look on the outside.
Dispirited (and, more so, frightened by how scary one can look after 30 days solid), things in the face buddy stakes were a little tardy this year, not wishing to scare off small children and all. But there’s no keeping a good mo down, and since it has been catching up fast, I have been scouring the city looking forlornly for my old mo buddies. Where would men with extraordinary facial specimens hang out? Perhaps waiting to get married by Tony Abbott? No, not likely. Hmm, under the bridge with the other hairy hoboes? Nah, I think they get swept up by the Keep Canberra Comfortable police.
Ooh, this could be promising... the bush, home to many a dodgy mo-faced friend. A path called the Gandalf Trail. He had a big white mo for a bit, right? (Plus he was a bit of a show off with fancy party tricks I have to say). No way, you fool of a Took.
I’ve climbed the highest mountains, scouring the landscape for giant caterpillars attached to gentlemen’s heads, sniffing out pockets of testosterone, but still no luck. For some reason the lyrics ‘All by moself, don’t wanna be all by moself...’ swirl around my beautiful head. Just where have all my mo bros gone?-----------------------------------------
Meanwhile, at that very moment, in Brisbane, Queensland, a young man of great courage and willingness to be mocked pitifully for his attempts at looking manly stirred. Something wasn’t quite right. Something was appearing on his face, taking over his life. For some reason he felt the urge to call his old guru of strategic facial hair generation, to reconnect, to reminisce and to think about how free and liberated we were
(I think, with some hindsight, merely by fact of scaring everyone within a 50 metre radius). Like Powderfinger in a couple years time when they need a bit of cash, we needed to re-form.What happened next was the stuff of fairy tales. Like magic (hmm, perhaps that Gandalf dude does have something to do with it), little hairy slugs were breaking out around our young hero. The bonds of brotherhood were extending like a curly handlebar moustache out to others blessed with the necessary testosterone levels and undoubted attraction to the fairer sex.
So good on Brisbane, soon to be home of the victorious English in the first test. The balance of butchness may have switched, but the moral of the story remains the same. Men up and down the land get ill, they do suffer and often this could be prevented. Awareness and earlier diagnosis of prostate cancer. Support and help and just something to break down the stigmas and barriers of mental health. We do this, we look stupid, we write random rubbish on this blog because we are men and we love other men.Please support us if you can... by making a donation following the instructions on the top right of this page, or giving one of your own facially-challenged men in your life a little cash. Or even just a nice manly hug. You will feel as good on the inside as we look on the outside.
