Dec. 2nd: Part II

Oh, Saturday night. How I lament you so! Without you my life would not be complete. Don't get me wrong. I have moustached before but not like this. FYI, you can spell it as "mustache" or "moustache." I prefer "moustache" because I say it like a bloody Brit "moo-stache"/"moose-stash."

My moustached partner in crime was no other than the lovely Miss Peters. I met up w/ her after I hung out w/ Annie B. for a bit. Our first point of business was heading out to Brooklyn for their museum's free first-saturday-of-the-month admission/dance party. (We went last month. We're cultured). However, after a comedy of errors, we ended up sitting staring @ an empty subway rail @ 10:56 & the museum closed @ 11:00 PM. Oops. It was @ this point that the moustachity began.

So, there's a great advisory posted in the underground labyrinths that are the NYC subway stops. The poster can be seen to the right. (By the way, for any picture I post, you can make it larger/view it in its full capacity by simply clicking on it. Go ahead. Try. Also, if you right-click on it, you can choose to view it in a separate window - it just won't be to full size. I'm such a genius). Arden & I recreated our own homages to the poster as tons of people walked by. We have no shame. Below, you can view our faux poster modeling.

Our slogan for the night was "Good Evening" said in a generic British/rich man accent. Anyone we walked by got it. For the ladies it was the innocent question "can I interest any of you in a good moustache ride?" Arden nearly pissed herself once out of sheer laughter & merriment. I almost did when this happened: some boy kept staring. He obviously wanted to say something, but his lady wasn't a fan of his staring & smirking. Arden bellowed (in her rich man accent) "I defy you to refrain from mentioning my moustache!" Fabulous.

Our whole reason for moustaching (sounds like a gross sexual rendezvous) was because we thought it would be hilarious to see how uncomfortable people - especially boys - would be w/ it. However, much to our surprise, guys were yelling shit like "I love kissing girls with moustaches!" To which Arden & I would reply "Then kiss your mother." We got great responses from random passerbys as we walked the crowded streets of Greenwich Village & the Lower East Side: "Yes! Moustaches!" or random exclaimed accolades. We were very shocked people liked the moustaches so much. A random dude on the street asked for our picture. He was a nerdy NYU Econ grad student.

Another dude asked Arden about her tattoo & she went on a rant about how she got it in prison, for drunken vehicular manslaughter - but the guy deserved it, & that I was her sponsor. She was a meth addict, but I was teaching her how to read. I added little snippets in the conversation, but was barely stifling my laughter. The guy seemed to be believing her. What a fucking moron. FYI, our made-up names were pretty butch. We'd introduce ourselves in husky voices. Arden'd say "My name's Deb, but you can call me 'Dog.'" My line: "Name's Jordan, but you can call me Jordy."

(To the right I am gracefully looking over the subway map in a most refined manner). Arden & I started walking home @ nearly 4AM. A drunken buffoon turned to her & said "I like your hat & your glasses." We laughed @ his foolishness. I said "Yeah. I like your starched white shirt." Fuckin' idiot guy. Overall, it was a great night of moustaching. The next day we bought some cool t-shirts & shit @ the Young Designers Market, & the Stanton & Orchard Street Fair. Below are some random great pictures of our night in moustacheville.

Thanks for putting up with such a long post! You guys rule!!

--Miss(ter) T