An ode to movember

Think twas the night before Christmas…mmmk?


Twas the last day of Movember, and wherever you looked

Mustachioed men knew their gooses were cooked

The mustaches they grew with such love and such care

Were soon to be gone, their upper lip: bare


The razors were freed from their protective cases

And set loose upon men, shaving their faces

A pump of the lotion, and the flick of a wrist

The disorderly facial hairs were quickly dismissed


A collective cry was heard, from all ‘round the world

Mourning the loss of the mustache, that would never be twirled

To the bar they all ran, to drown their sorrows in scotch

Trying to regain their manliness, while grabbing their crotch


Lighting cigars, and consoling their brothers

Wishing that they could be like one of the others

Tom Selleck, Freddy Mercury, all Gods in their eyes

Hulk Hogan, Ron Burgundy the manliest guys


There’s Chaplin, and Hitler, Burt Reynolds to mention

Mustachioed men, commanding attention

But to those that are married, or soon taking a wife

Are doomed to hairless, the rest of their life.




My first foray back into the blogosphere?  MAYBE.


About MsBehavior

I’m a vintage loving, suburban living, book collecting, kitchen destroying, thrifting ninja, single mama of a smart, salty, sassy teenager. Unicorn aficionado. Flamingo enthusiast. Love all things sparkly. Connoisseur of foul language. Insufferable do-gooder. Big mouth. Bigger heart. Biggest backside. Begrudging romantic. Will blog and tweet for money. I make things. You can buy those things. Hey man, I’ve got bills. View all posts by MsBehavior

2 responses to “An ode to movember

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