Ode to the Internets: Chorus: I'm Sorry

I am sorry for the mean things I have said to you Internets. I only said them because I love you. I should have known that eventually you would surprise me with something like this:

http://hatesong.com/2006/05/12/guest-strip-by-clay-hampton/

The Helicopter is bleeding. Bleeding.

Thank you.

Ode to the Internets: 3rd Verse: Disappointment

Oh Internets it has been a while since you have provided me with something so profoundly excellent I could not help but smile. The trailers on Apple.com have been lacking (with the notable exception of the 2nd Superman Returns trailer) and blogs have fallen into a lul or dissapeared entirely (et tu Amanda?).

However, it is not simply a lack of material, no, Askaninja.com proved that to be incorrect. I am angry with you internets because you have betrayed me. I'm looking at you MySpace. We always had a tenuous relationship, it would be fair to say that I alternated between finding you mildly amusing and merely tolerating you. Then you went and tried to steal my intellectual property. Shame on you.

Now you may have changed your policies MySpace but I am still dissapointed. No amount of midget ninjas can change that.

Good Day!

Digicine X: The Concept Art

Digicine X was deemed too expensive for production in the midterm drama round of shooting. Seeing as how I was told pretty much once a day by my instructor's that this would happen I was not shocked and awed. I will now however proceed to continue to leak some of the work I did on the film. The full script is not going up because of paranoia that blogspot will pull a myspace...anywho without further ado here are the character concept designs that I did for my art direction proposal:

In the script it is supposed to be an oversized men's shirt but I guess my comic book style (ie scantily clad women with insanely unrealistic proportions) got the better of me.

May has been in the script since long before it was even science fiction. Basically I expected Katie H. to play her because a)she's blonde b)she actually has a sword c)she has a black belt in Tai Kwan Do (which to the unknowing eye I could easily pretend was Kung-Fu).

Hotaru was the first design I did. He had no lines and was pretty much inteded to be played by Ian because basically Ian looks exactly like I imagined this Japanese-named white guy, and also because Ian has previously demanded that I put him in a movie that I make.

Mr. Wong is not necessarily my favorite character (that honour goes to Eddie, the only character I did not do a design for), however, he is definately my favorite design. I like the mix of modern and traditional in his design. I also like the tatoos which was something I continued over from Hotaru.

And here is the protagonist. Basically I wanted a guy that looked like he was decked out for war but rode a basic bike. he also needed to look like he fit right into the poor, illegal-lofting, drug-using, street-fighting world. I am definately happy with the way he turned out and the fanny pack amuses me to no end.

These pieces also represent my return to the world of colouring (hold the cheers I'll probably still back out when it comes to Masked Avenger comics).

Stuart: 1 Riptides: 0

Ah the ocean...

Beautiful, serene, wet.

I have wanted to try my hand at surfing for a while now as I have needed something to fill the void of snowboarding during the summer and my longboard is still broken. My friend Katie happens to love surfing and also happened to be going to Tofino this weekend. Tofino, for those of you not in the know, is BC's own little surf town (featured in an MTV movie no less). Needless to say I decided to tag along and try my hand at the only style of boarding I have not yet experienced. I traded my frozen oceans for the real deal.

The trip to Tofino is a pretty beautiful one. It oddly reminds me of the area around Fernie (Elk Valley) only with about a foot of moss covering everything. Despite that, however, I only took one picture out the window trying to perfect my Spielberg-esque "rear-view mirror" shot. You can see my hand so I guess I failed.

So we arrived and went to get some dinner at a restaurant on the waterfront. I saw some Killer Whales, or Orca for you Politically Correct Cetacean Crusaders out there. I did not have my camera on me so no pictures of the creatures for you.

The next morning we went and picked up some gear for me and made our way out to Cox Bay, the only place that looked like it had managable waves as opposed to waves that would crush and fling me about like a ragdoll. 45 minutes of pleasent attempted surfing followed. I managed to get up onto one foot and a knee which I hear is pretty good for a first attempt. My second attempt never came.

We were too far from the middle of the bay and thusly we were in the out flow zone i.e. The currents were flowing in at the middle of the bay and out at the sides of the bay. Caught in the back current Katie and I quickly found ourselves a little less than a half mile from the shore.

We paddled to little avail, essentially staying in the same spot and tiring ourselves out. A kayaker noticed our plight and towed us in abit but he too soon realized that the current was too strong for him to pull the both of us in to shore. He scouted out the rock wall of the side of the bay and found a place for us to climb out of the water. We waited for the water to recede and then scrambled up onto the rocks before the next wave had a chance to throws us against them.

We were safe but still a long way from the shore, so we started to hike. We stuck close to the water where barnacles lent some grip and the danger of ravines was more easily avoided. It was slow going but thankfully the Coast Guard showed up. We jumped back in with our boards and paddled over to their boat. Somewhere in the activity I sprained my right wrist (which happens to be the one that I damaged during the summer and which has not healed to full capacity).

They got Katie in fairly close to shore and back in the middle of the bay and she paddled back in to the beach so she could get the car. A park ranger surfed out a bit to help her along the way. I opted out of the paddling seeing as how I could barely move my wrist and was treated to a sweet, high-speed boat ride over some huge swells.

Back at the CG station the Coast Guard hooked me up with some hot tea and cookies. They also gave me the ill-fitting, fleece onesy to warm me up and replace my soaking wet wetsuit. Katie soon showed up bearing dry clothes and beer and we were on our merry way. Kudos to the Tofino Coast Guard, I really can't say enough good things about those folks, even if they did dress me up like an Oompa-loompa.

And that is the story of how I was almost washed out to sea this weekend.

Some Arts IV: Return of the Son of the Arts

I've been practising my photoshop colouring and I think I don't entirely suck at it.

SNAKES...ON...A...MOTHERFUCKING... PLANE...

the trailer is here:


http://www.tagworld.com/snakesonaplane/

GO NOW!

Musings About Irrelevant Things #3

Is it just me or is the first person they cut to at the Oscars ALWAYS Jack Nicholson?

Just more proof of the awesome power of the Jacks.

Ode to the Internets: 2nd Verse

God, I love the internet:Superman is a DICK, and I couldn't be happier.

Things Primetime TV Has Taught Me: Part 1

Jack is the single most badass name anyone can have. I know it sounds all lame and harkens back to the lameass from the Jack and Jill fairy tale but I am not talking about Old Timey Jack, no no, I am talking about the 21st century Jack. Don't believe me? Here's proof:

Jack Bauer. In the span of 24 hours Jack saved the lives of his wife and daughter (the ultimate alpha male move), killed several assassins, threatened to shove a wet towel down the throat of an investment banker. Took out a sniper/mid season boss with a pistol and three bullets, shot his boss in the thigh with a tranquilizer because he did something Jack didn't like, and generally said more badass things than most people do in a year. Then he went on to be more badass on 3 other occassions and is working on a fifth.
Jack Bristow pretty much does all that before breakfast, he has less moral limitations than Bauer and will pretty much kill/maim/torture/blackmail anyone who tries to harm his daughter. Plus he gets bomus points for doing it and being over fifty. Seriously though, you do not want to fuck with Jack Bristow.

Dr. Jack Sheppard. Though not a secret agent Dr. Jack is a doctor, no, a surgeon which is like a doctor but you get to physically decide people's fates daily (sort of like GOD: the Game). Also he has survived being a)thrown from a plane b) living almost 2 months on a tropical island inhabited by wild boars, polar bears, crazy people with guns, sharks, and a swirly cloud of death smoke. Dr. Sheppard's other badass accomplishments: 1)tried to sew up his own back wound shortly after the plane crash and 2) gave a blood tranfusion from himself to Boone using a sea urchin spine as a makeshift needle all the while performing surgery on the man with limited tools and then attempting to amputate Boone's shattered leg by slamming a cargo container door down on it (this may be the simgle most badass course of action ever taken).

Seeing as how TV never lies the evidence must be conclusive: Jack is the most badass name in the universe. That is not to say that anyone named Jack is a complete badass but rather that by being named Jack you have better odds of becoming a badass.

Give your child a fighting chance and name him Jack. Seriously. Do it.

Digicine X: A Treatment

Next week I get to find out everything that is wrong with the short script first draft that I did for school. It is called "Digicine X" though previously it was referred to as "Post-cyberpunk. bike courier. drug, kung fu story" and before that it had no name and was really just an excuse to do a kung fu film. Anyways the whole point of this post is to let you have a sneak peek. in treatment form. Enjoy:

Nick, a 26 year old unkempt but fit man, sits amid a row of boxes in the main office of a bike courier service. He puts on a bullet proof vest, combat boots, and a helmet bearing the CyclePath Deliveries company logo. While he does this he also explains what his job as a mid-21st century bike courier entails. The last items he straps on are a stun baton and a field emergency med kit.

Eve, a 24 year old stunningly beautiful blonde, lies in Nick’s bed. Nick joins her and produces two pills of Digicine X, a high tech version of Ecstasy. The two take their pills and begin to kiss. A phone rings. It is Nick’s cell phone and his boss is on the other end of the line begging Nick to come in to deliver just one package, “an emergency,” he explains. Nick pulls on his jeans and assures Eve that he will be back before the drug has time to kick in.

When he arrives at the offices of CyclePath Deliveries Nick is given a heavy square box. His boss explains that someone is paying a lot of money to get it where it is supposed to go and that where it is going is to Mr. Wing, the crime baron of Neo Hong Kong. Nick warns his boss that he has just taken Digicine and his boss tells him to use some of the adrenaline in the med kits to kill the nanobots before they take effect. Nick refuses on the grounds that several months’ salary went into purchasing the drugs and to not experience them with Eve would be a crime.

Nick arrives at the offices of Mr. Wing, who is accompanied by several guards and a beautiful blonde with something wrapped in cloth strapped to her back. Nick presents the package to the crime lord who opens it to reveal the head of a young woman, Mr. Wing’s daughter. Simultaneously the Digicine X in Nick’s body begins to affect him and he begins to lose his composure.

Mr. Wing gets very angry at the perceived insult Nick has just given him and orders his men to kill him. Ricky, a 20-something tall, lanky man in a dishevelled suit, leaps across the table at a very distressed Nick and throws a heavy right hook. Nick in his panicked state manages to dodge the punch and produce the stun baton out of its holster. He jabs the tip into Ricky’s stomach and the goon falls to the ground twitching from the shock.

Nick runs for the door, out into the streets of Neo Hong Kong, and eventually finds himself hiding in an underground parking lot. He sits down against a wall around the corner from the entrance and tries to catch his breath. “Are you specifically trying to get us killed?” asks a disembodied voice. Nick looks up to see himself staring back at him. His doppelganger tries to convince Nick to take the adrenaline and get the hell out of here. Nick rubs his eyes in disbelief and the hallucination has disappeared.

Nick hears the sound of the underground parking gate opening and he peers around the corner. Mr. Wing’s blonde in traditional Kung Fu-style clothing is walking down the entranceway. Nick turns away from the edge of the wall to keep from being seen and ends up looking into the eyes of a hallucination of Eve. The fake Eve flirts with Nick begging him to not do away with the drugs and come home and make love to her. Nick is about to give in when Eve is replaced by the Kung Fu Blonde who promptly punches Nick in the face.

The Blonde continues to beat up on Nick until she lands one astoundingly strong punch that throws nick several parking stalls across the lot and into a wall. The Blonde pulls the item wrapped in cloth off of her back and places the tip of it on the ground. She pulls the cord off and the cloth falls to the floor revealing a sword in scabbard. The Blonde begins to charge towards Nick as she slowly draws the sword from its sheath. Eve has reappeared before Nick but he ignores her and stabs the adrenaline needle into his own chest. The effects are instantaneous and Nick springs to his feet, charges the Blonde, slams the half drawn sword back into its scabbard, and delivering a killing blow to the Blonde’s face.
Nick stands silent over the crumples body of his would-be killer for a brief moment and then walks out of the garage. He leaves Neo Hong Kong through its giant archway without further incident.

Ode to the Internets

Sometimes the internets do something that makes me love them so much I cry:

http://qcjeph.livejournal.com/#entry_46960

Production Stills, Outtakes, and Ommissions of 2005 and the first few hours of 2006 Photoblog

I was going through my photography folder and decided that I would post some random photos that, except for the first, have no real relation to each other. So here it is, the not-about-particularly-anything photoblog (with witty commentary):

DISCLAIMER: VFS Film Production Class 107 Documentary Project Group #2 (13th Mission/A Wartime Log) is, honestly, a wonderfully professional and serious group. Any evidence otherwise is bullshit, lies, and likely concocted by the government to discredit us. I swear. For serious.
See, professional. Casey did not actually know what was on the sign which makes the fact that he made that face all the funnier to me. Also, just because he didn't know what was on the sign does not necessarily mean it isn't true. The sign know all!
What is the giant white thing in front of me? A styrofoam bounce board. What are we doing you ask? we are shooting a shot of the little stone man on the cabinet. What for you ask? A documentary about a WWII prisoner of war. Does my shirt have a ninja on it? Yes, for I am 10 Ninjas. What is Steve looking at? It appears to be my nether regions.
We spent the better part of a day shooting pictures of the old man's journal in the basement of our school. I do not believe any of the footage made it into the film but I did photoshop our credits so as to make them look like they were printed onto the cover. We almost used a shot of a letter from the journal (INSIDE JOKE/ Letters from home could be good and they could be bad...many of them were bad /END INSIDE JOKE)
...professional...can you guess what the pictogram says? 10 points if you can.
From an earlier shoot. We were shooting Hans in a bath all hitchcock-like (artistic choice Mr. Cinematography Instructor!) and we needed to get sound without Steve being in the shot. SUCCESS!
A rejected picture from the moustache month photoblog. This is post-midnight, I had finally gotten rid of the rancid thing and was extremely happy about it and also in Hans' room for some reason.
Devin and Jezhel. Devin is looking sceptical about having his picture taken. Steve mistook Jezhel for something she was not (I will not repeat for sake of not wanting a feud between my friends). ALSO, I did not notice until just now that Devin and I were wearing identically coloured shirts.
...I was so mad at the similar shirts (continuity error) that I fought my sister. My bosses at Saffron Productions (the travel show thing) looked on and threatened to fire me if I lost. So I didn't. I won by using a noogie-esque finishing move I like to call "A Move That Is Exactly Like A Noogie But Not."
Travel back in time to Fernie and a picture that didn't make the Fernie photoblog. I like the way the sky looks in this one and I have no witty commentary for it...sooo...BUTTS LOL!!1!!...shut up.
Travel even further back to the days when I lived in New Westminster. This is photographic evidence of the single most epic act of recycling ever, EVER! I took a low angle shot as well, for that mythic look, but it did not capture the full scope of how much crap we crammed into Hans' van. However, before you start thinking that we are awesome recyclers and such remember that this much crap had to acummulate in our house first...we're better now though I swear...
Pete kissing Ghandi, who is wearing a lei. I don't think this one needs witty commentary to be funny.
I like this one because it looks like Pete was playing the guitar so hard that his hand dissappeared. Also because it looks like Lisa and Pete and giving each other intense stares of longing.
New West. Drunken Snowman. He turns away because he is ashamed of his addiction. His outstretched hand says, "don't look at me for I am hideous." He later died of melting.
Matty. A man who truly know the meaning of St. Patrick's Day. That meaning being wearing green and drinking three beers at once. Even though the beers are not Irish. They are however in green bottles so they still count. Speaking of St. Patrick's Day I am throwing a St. Patrick's Day party here. So bring all your friends out to Kits on March 17th (a friday) 2006.

I was also going to post a picture of the high scores I got playing Minesweeper (3 seconds on beginner and 59 seconds on intermediate) whilst working night shift at the hotel in the summer, but it seemed kind of lame and also provided concrete proof of my daily reading of MSN Celebs (I can stop anytime I want...I swear). Thus I didn't post it leaving you the humble reader to have no more pretty pictures to look at.

Stupid Things I Will Be Doing In The Near Future

First there was the formation of Snakes On A Plane, then there was Moustache Month. Continuing in the tradition of these momentous events here are a few stupid things I, along with several others, plan on doing in the new future:

1) Song Day - participants in this day are only allowed to speak in song. I believe this might actually be this coming monday. It probably won't be too much different then me singing "It's Not Unusual" by Tom Jones all the time.

2) Mohawk Month - at least 3 to 4 of us (VFS kids) are going to shave our heads into mowhawks sometime in the next month. Mayhem shall ensue. I'm going for the Heroine Bob look and pushing for Gamblor to do the horns.

3) Bad Pick-Up Line Night - Hansworth, Steve, and I have decided that going to a random club and trying just about every cheesy and horrible pick-up technique/line is necessary. This will likely involve no real intention to meet girls and a hat from which we will draw bad pick-up lines. I also expect to get slapped at least . If I don't then I am not trying hard enough.

4) The Competition - ever see Seinfeld? Yeah. That competition. I think it starts in a week. I should probably get prepared.

5) Who knows, but it will probably be stupid and involve me being harmed physically in some way.

Happy Picture Lock Day!

My time as editor of A Wartime Log is now over until colour correction. The next two weeks will be a welcome break, hopefully complete with a return of a social life. To commemorate this eventful day here is a picture of what I did not end up becoming (though I kind of wish that I had). I present to you a piece I call BATSHIT CRAZY:

Fashionably Late

Everyone and there dog is drawing Batgirl it seems. It also seems that this young artiste has known about this for some time and even drew a picture once he found out. However, in true Stu Popp tradition, I have waited a few days (completely intentionally) to post the picture. So now here is Batgirl in all her fashionably late glory:

Drawings by everyone and their dog can be found here: http://himynameisjamie.livejournal.com/345568.html

Also: who thinks I should try and update more often as a sketchblog?

Doing It Execution Style

Oh man.

I think that this Penny Arcade is one of the funnier things I have seen in the past month at least. God this makes me want to buy nerf™ products and have nerf™ fights again...

I'm a nerd.

Walkin' On Down

Every once and a while I see something on the street that I feel is necessary to record. Sometimes it is enough to memorize it other times it is something that can only be explained by drawing it so others can see. dirty, out of shape people walking down the street in underwear, tight t-shirts and a bathrobe with a bandana bearing japanese symbols for instance. I love seeing these little sparks in the crowd and they bring about a touch of creativity in me. Here are two of people I have seen:

Corona Man

I saw him while I was riding the 4 bus from Kitsilano to Hastings. Somewhere around Granville and Georgia I saw him. He was striding down the street in torn jeans and a dirty t-shirt. His worn work boots were speckled with mud. He must not have shaved in months as his beard flapped behind his ears in the wind. He was easy to spot in the crowd because it was raining and all the busy city-folk had there black umbrellas unfurled creating a writhing stream of water-repellant material. It was not that he didn't have an umbrella nor was it that he was not as nicely dressed as the others because he did and there are enough underpriviledged types on Granville Street to make him blend in. It was in fact that he too had an umbrella, a bright, yellow, Corona sun umbrella from a bar table, that made him stand out. He was marching merrily down the sidewalk weaving in and out of the masses twirling the umbrella behind his head like a parasol seemingly oblivious to the rain that he could be keeping off of him instead. He made me think about what possessed him to steal the umbrella if he was not using it to keep dry and just how he had managed to make off with it in the light of day when such umbrellas come out to play. Questions that will likely remain unanswered I suppose...

The Bird Man

It wasn't so much that his appearance was anything special, he was simply your usual slightly-overweight, scruffy-bearded, homeless fellow. He did not appear to be the type who would offer me drugs as he walked passed but would probably end up asking for change for food and maybe wish me a seasonal greeting. No he was nothing out of the ordinary for The City and I would have taken only a passing notice if he had not done what he had done. He crossed the street as the lights began to turn green and yet he was definately not oblivious to the people waiting to drive onwards once he had passed. They did not honk but he mocked them anyways, flapping his arms as he walked slowly infront of the car. He passed me by and gave me his greeting as I had suspected and I continued on my merry longboarding way, but he would stick with me at least long enough to write it down.

The Hanger Dance Kid

The kid was dressed fairly nicely and it was obvious he was not destitute as he still sported glasses that he had no hawked for rent, food, or crack. He carried a thin take-out container that he continually shifted back and forth in his hands to circumvent the heat problem presented by the contents of the container. In one pocket of the hoody stuck out a bottle of Green Tea Snapple™. He juggled the container continuously while also periodically removing the bottle for a drink which required an elaborate dance with the other object in his hand a single empty jacket hanger. There was no indication of any use for the hanger other than the part that it played in the juggling dance of food items. It looked so out of place and yet he showed no signs of making this realization. He most certainly had thought that this was odd and I know because that kid was me two days ago.

Musings About Irrelevent Things #2

Number 1 being my treatise on my love for all floating gas stations.
I think that there are few better clothing induced feelings than that of a new hoody. New Hoody Feel™ is, I will dare to submit, even better than New Sock Feel™. NSF™ does come around more often, though that is not the determining factor in making the rarer NHF™ the more desirable of the two. Rarity has nothing to do with it. Soft and warm and awesome do infact have everything to do with it. In these areas New Hoody Feel™ is the clear winner plus it encompases more surface area of the body to ensure maximum awesomeness.

Homecoming: Good News and Bad News

Good News: I survived my flight back, not that I really had any worries about that. Thankfully this time I was not seated next to the ginormously fat guy as I have been pretty much everytime I fly between Vancouver and my hometown. This extra space facilitated my writing of a few scenes for a script which is always a good thing, especially when it relates to homework for writing class.

Bad News: I will not be doing as much snowboarding as I had hoped due to a) parents unable to afford a pass for me (political statement ahead: Fuck you Mr. Campbell) and b) the company running the hill seems to be comprised entirely of douchebags who in the holiday spirit have decided to hike the prices over christmas. Merry Xmas to you too Assholes! So now I get a day of boarding and must choose my day wisely for maximimum powderability.

Good News: Cherry Tarts are still awesome

Bad News: The Weather is all about the icey rain right now

Good News: It WILL be a white christmas

Bad News: This computer does not easily facilitate my watching of short films for research

Good News: Bars are a-hopping and I feel like having some brewskis avec my Fernie friends.

Summary: X-Mas scheduling will have to be re-evaluated to account for less snowboarding and possibly more drinking. As I imagine someone might say in this situation "Crunk Crunk It's time to get Drunk!"

Moustache Month Photojournal: Week 4 and Moustaches Galore!

WEEK 4: The Brotherhood of Evil Facial Hair Wow! Don't I look happy. No? that is because I am not. At this point I have seriously begun to hate my facial hair, but it was almost over so I was willing to tough it out. You may notice that the hair on one side of my face is thicker than the other. How lame is that...about as lame as the fact that this is 28 odd days of growth. I also found that the burns increased exponentially in this last week. I think it is because before Moustache Month I was nigh-unburnable at VFS and was constantly making burns on others, but with my face hair I was self-confidence-ly challenged and made less burns. People must have felt that their time to burn me was running out. It may also have had something to do with me looking like a greasy 15 year old.
I also apparently look like Garden State's Peter Saarsgard if I squint, half smile, wear a hat, and you are looking at me from a high angle.
The trend that is arising in these pictures is an overall displeasure at having facial hair and having pictures taken creating a record of the nasty facial hair. Steve and I had many a talk about how much better life would be if we got rid of the hair. Everything we discussed was proven true.
Dave hated it because he was unable to groom...but fuck him...at least he didn't look like a rapist. Stupid Dave...always coming out on top...
There is Casey with his week 1 facial hair (it seriously didn't grow any more since the first week). He is displeased as well. The general consensus was that it made him look more Cuban. discuss.
Kevin Smi...er...Mr. Fudge returns with more facial hair than two thirds of Snakes On A Plane combined. It still was not he favored facial hair arrangment and thus he too is unhappy.
Tim is 38. Tim wanted to have a beard on moustache day. Tim shaved because I said so. Tim is creepy.
Wes had a beard since like 3 days into Moustache Month. Did I mention I hate Wes.
Caset doing his best latino gang member impression. Not surprisingly it was convincing. Surprising things about Casey: He a) owns over 40 pairs of shoes b) wanted to join the Marines c) loves DDR and d) many many more things. Casey is weird, but he makes a badass gang member.
Here is me expertly demonstrating what every white guy ever looks like when he tries to be a "gangsta" of any sort. If any of you are looking at this and are thinking "bitch please! I don't look like that! You a foo for sho though!" then you are an idiot.

WEEK 4: Last Day Of Facial Hair Dang! Look how happy Steve, Casey, and I are to be able to shave that evening. Well...shave everything but the moustache anyways. Regardless it was the first major step towards cleanshaven-ness again and we were happy.
Here are all the major players of Moustache Month minus Chris, who tends to disappear unannounced, at the end of our last class of the final day of being moustachioed. Look at those smiles. Hope has been restored in the form of being allowed to shave.
And Lo I Did Shave! And It Was GOOD! and I took a picture of my hair on the razor. Can I get an eee-eew-www

WEEK 4: Moustache Day is HERE! Casey and I were Miami gangsters. I was significantly less badass than Casey, who looked like a cast member from Scarface and even more Cuban than before.
Steve kind of looked like he should be the old guy running a record store. He still has the soul patch but recognizes that he should shave it off because it lame. Or at least he says he does. I think he secretly covets the soul patch. Alternate looks like options are french beatnik poets, but although he can speak French he has no beret. A shame really. Steve shaved at midnight of this day and sent the unholey moustache back to hell, I did likewise.
I could say "Fuck Dave" again, but his supertrooper appearance makes me feel as though my embarassment by comparison was all worth it. The guy on the right is Phil. He joined in about a week and a half before the end of Moustache Month and destroyed me in the non-competition.
This is quite possibly the most badass photogramaphone of Mr. W. B. Fudge in existance. Hans voted him worst moustache but I disagree, it is quite obviously badass. Hired Gunman Badass!
Magnum P.I. made an appearance in the form of Wes. Sort of not pictured is his massive chest hair. Wes too redeemed himself for being totally wicknar in his facial hair use on this day. I don't hate Wes. Wes is too cool for school.
In the end the rumblings of Chris not shaving were untrue. He looks like a science teacher...poor Chris...give him his loud sweater and send him on his way.

And FINALLY, WHAT YOU'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR...

Up close and personal with my ronnie (that's british/irish slang for shitty moustache that is barely even there). It would probably look more substancial if my hair was darker but that isn't saying much. I look like 2 parts my dad, 3 parts wannabe rocker from every 70s movie ever, and 1 part 15 year old nerd. I sent the moustache back to the vile depths (of my drainage system) from whence it came at precisely 2 minutes after midnight. I pulled "I live here" rank to cut in line to the bathroom and then I hooked Mr. Fudge up with a cut in the line 'cause that is how I roll...bitches!