This past weekend Mike and I spent some quality time together - watching Miami Vice. The “new” movie with Colin Farrell and Jamie Foxx. I was kind of excited to see it only because Colin Farrel is so yummy. Good eye candy - can’t pass that up. Boy, was I mistaken when I was faced with this.

I couldn’t enjoy the movie because of this pedophile like moustache. I couldn’t enjoy the scenery (of Colin’s hard body and gorgeous eyes) because of this dead animal posing as Colin’s handlebar moustache. Blech. Don’t even get me started on the greasy mullet like hair do.

I forgot to mention this as one of my all-time deal breakers; how on earth did I forget this one I’ll never know, but moustaches disgust me to the very core of my being.
I don’t care if it’s well groomed and full, it’s ugly; or if you’re a prepubescent young man who has just begun to grow a sparse and scraggly masterpiece. Shave that shit off your face.

I’m okay with beards or goatees; there’s just something about a moustache that make my stomach turn.

It may be the childhood trauma of my father’s moustache that was always there when I gave him a kiss and it would stab me like a thousand little needles - thank GAWD it hasn’t been there for years now; or the maybe teacher I had in high school who would always have his lunch stuck throughout in the afternoon. It could even be subconsciously the fact that studies show that men with moustaches are more likely to lie. It’s true. I can’t find a link, but I KNOW I heard it on the radio, and the radio never lies.
Nevertheless. Gross. That about sums it up.