So I should probably explain about the mustache (which, so you know the end of the story, is mercifully gone). A few months ago, my buddy proposed to his girlfriend) mistake #1 [what? I seem jaded?]), and so we obviously had to have a bachelor party. This particular group of friends (because we all have different groups) is my Closest Friends Group. These are the guys and girls that I’ve known, and hung-out consistently with, for nigh on 14 years. This is my Beverly Hills 90210. This is my Melrose Place.

SO, when we do bachelor parties, we do them fairly big. I’ve heard tell of normal bachelor parties being a round of golf and a couple of hours at the local strip club on a Saturday, but that my friends, is amateur-hour. For us, bachelor parties are at least a 3-day affair, and for this particular one, we went to 4 because my friend is the one who was never getting married…it is the end of an era.

So that’s the set-up. The punchline is that a couple of month ago we were having a BBQ together. This is something we do all the time, nearly every weekend during the summer, in fact. We just get together, hang out, and generally enjoy each other’s old company. We’re at the the BBQ, there is a little bit of alcohol involved, and we’re talking about Tim’s bachelor party when I blurt out, “Dude! (It’s all about “dude” when you’re drinking) We should totally have MUSTACHES for the bachelor party!” And, probably coerced by alcohol as well, everyone agrees. And, even more strangely, everyone remembers it the next day. And even more strangely, we all (almost) commit to it and come through in the end…which was the most surprising part, that most of us actually did it.

And it was spectacular, as you can plainly see below.

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