But I really
Dear Ironic Mustache,
You think you are so clever with your pervasive presence on Pinterest and your appearance at weddings and parties. "Look at me! Wear me with glasses and a top hat and I am humorous just like the 19th century because the 19th century was so hilarious!"
Well, Mister Mustache, you are not humorous. To a dark haired female who spends just as much time with her tweezers as she does with her husband, you are simply my worst nightmare. I believe that I speak for dark haired beauties everywhere when I say, STOP TAUNTING US! See that girl up there? Yeah, she's Asian. So she doesn't understand that those mugs are not ironic, they are a method of psychological torture.
And now you are not only trying to ruin parties and my morning coffee, you are infiltrating my bedroom! The sacred place of sleep. You know the place without judgment? I will not sleep in this bed of lies. Plus, your popularity made this possible.
Mustaches on baby booties? Why, exactly, is this desirable?
And why can't you just leave us alone?
Sincerely,
The female losers of the facial hair lottery
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Girl, I hear that. Dear mustache. I prefer to call you "unfortunate facial hair that I pay to have ripped out of my face once a week with hot wax." It sounds much less pleasant that way.
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