SCROLL DOWN TO VOTE.

Apologies to my best friend Blue for once again mentioning Movember (”Get over it, it’s done. If you mention Movember one more time I’m going to stop reading your blog.”), but the idea of people growing bodily humor for charity came up again over the weekend.

Cagey and The Princess had, at the beginning of Movember, “threatened” to grow out their leg hair as some sort of response to my Movember team’s efforts to grow ridiculous-looking mustaches. I effectively told them I didn’t give a shit and that they should knock themselves out. Of course, female vanity triumphed over evil and they continued their leg shaving schedules.

But on Saturday night, while imbibing many beers at Bedrock in celebration of Baby Bien’s and INPY’s combination birthday, the idea of women growing out their hair for charity came up again. I don’t even know who brought it up (probably me) but we agreed that if there were to be such a month-long event, it would be in October. And they would have to grow out their pubic hair.

Everyone was in favor of creating this charity event. If a bunch of Aussies can concoct Movember and raise millions of dollars worldwide (our team raised $4,100), then why can’t women show off their short and curlies?

The only thing we couldn’t all agree on was what to call it. Many ideas were offered but little consensus was reached. I have my own favorite but there were so many good choices. So I’m opening it up to the blogosphere to vote on what to call the month in which women grow their pubic hair for charity:

PHOTO CREDIT

UPDATE: Someone found this blog post today by performing the following search:

Eleven days removed from Movember and the namesake of our mustache-growing/ass cancer-beating team — Alex Trebek — has had a heart attack.

The longtime host of Jeopardy! was admitted to an LA hospital on Monday night with a “minor” heart attack. I know there is a medical explanation for suffering a heart attack of varying degrees, but saying he had a “minor” one is like saying he only got punched in the nutsack by a 10-year-old. Still sucks, man.

There are many reasons why this 67-year-old man might have a heart attack. Bad diet? History of heart disease? when you think the cameras aren’t rolling? I don’t know. To me, though, there’s only one reason why Alex’s ticker “minorly” gave out:

My Movember team members prematurely shaved their mustaches.

I apologize, Alex. I’m truly sorry. I’m sorry the Committee for the Restoration of Trebek’s Upper Lip Hair let you down. I’m sorry we got rid of these annoying soup-straining mouth slugs the very moment we could.

I know what people will say. That I’m a superstitious moron who seemingly hasn’t realized that you no longer have a mustache. That apologizing to you for not having one is like apologizing to Jesus for me being Jewish.

I know you no longer have a mustache. But my Movember bros and I named our team after your legacy. We raised $4,100 to fight prostate cancer while taking a chance of not getting laid for a month. By turning our backs on our month-long effort, though, we showed only our severe callousness. We should have kept these ’staches growing.

I hope you recover soon, Alex. I hope you continue being the pretentious quiz show host I watch every night when I don’t have to stay late at work. If it makes you feel any better, my mustache has been growing back. Sure, I also have a goatee and it doesn’t look half as great as yours once did, but I’m doing my best, Giorgi Suka-Alex Trebek.

If you don’t do it for us, do it for Ken Jennings. That millionaire bastard needs something to live for.

If the journey of a thousand steps starts with just one, then the voyage of a mustache starts with just a lonely whisker. And it ends with a team of men who briefly tasted the awesome, if not hyperbolic, majesty of the mustache.

(Watch to the end for a cameo by Baby Bien explaining victory is his.)

Hundreds of whiskers and thousands of dollars later, Movember is finished. Our team raised $4,100 to fight ass cancer, with friends, family, and ever strangers chipping in $1,403 to my individual effort. Considering I was hoping to raise $200 and our initial team goal was $1,000 TOTAL, these fundraising amounts far exceeded our expectations. What does this prove? That you guys are ass cancer-kicking rock stars. And we thank you.

Our participation in Movember began as the brainchild of team captain and evil mastermind Foxymoron, who convinced five men to flout social norms and fulfill their genetic imperative to grow facial hair. Driven by my desire to not die of prostate cancer and to save my future erections, I agreed to do it.

And in the past 30 days, I learned a lot about my friends, facial hair, society, and myself — not bad for letting an obnoxious soup strainer grow above your upper lip.

Among these lessons:

1. Everyone should have a mustache idol.

My ’stache idol is my dad, who had the very first mustache I ever saw. As a child, I used to draw pictures of him with crayons and alway started on a blank sheet of paper with one feature: his mustache. I would give him these drawings and always beamed when he told me how proud he was of me.

Zorro is also a pretty cool idol. He fought against oppression, for the love of hot Mexican women, and the right to carve zees on the sides of tree trunks.

2. A mustache makes you a rebel.

The truth is, the mustache fell out of favor in the modern U.S. shortly after the cancellation of Magnum P.I. Since then, growing one has been considered taboo in social situations unless you do porn or consider yourself a gunslinger. It took guts for us to do this all month, risking standing at work, being shunned by our lovers, and facing those hard stares every day on the Metro.

The Wall Street Journal wrote a piece about men taking this risk. And a private school across even came under fire for threatening to bar a student who was participating in Movember of he didn’t shave off what they called his “bum fluff”.

3. Mustachioed people bond.

As my pushbroom grew everyday, I noticed more often men with their own mustaches and felt an instant kinship. Sure, they weren’t always doing it for charity, such as the guy who looked like Rollie Fingers who I saw at Atomic Billiards and asked if he was “doing Movember”, but we still were brothers in a way. I went from being a mustache apologist to embracing the very thing I thought I would never see on my face.

Also, my teammates — Foxymoron, , Nickels, INPY, Rory, and Fraim — all met up at least once a week to celebrate our ’staches over some beers. We ridiculed each other for our common plight, drank lots of cheap beers, and even won a trivia night at Madhatters together. My Mo Bros will always be my bros.

4. A mustache is your passport to an awesome party.

The Alcohol and Razors party was held on Friday, the last day of Movember. Though we couldn’t attend the official Movember Gala in NYC despite the fact that each one of us qualified (minimum $200 in fundraising), we hosted the official Mo Town party for DC at INPY’s house and Wonderland. So many friends and donors came to enjoy the open bar of kegs and liquor, laugh at the ceremonial shaving, and watch that outstanding Movember DVD put together by Rory and which you can see at the top of this post or by clicking .

Of course, what blog post of mine is complete without some photos from the party? Enjoy:

MJ, HC, Baby Bien and Brewies Chewies loved touching my mustache:

Brewies Chewies takes one last, long, aching, passionate look at my bigotes:

The Princess reacts to Shiftless Badger’s face manipulation:

Nickels and Foxymoron ponder the end of the Mo road:

INPY, J-Vo, and Rory:

Using my Redskins mug to hide face from public view:

MJ, Cagey, and The Princess before the pillow fight started:

Tits McGee and J-Vo loved the idea of having a mustache without having to, you know, grow one:

Hanna Montana and I compare biceps after I whooped her in arm wrestling. The only thing we proved is that I’m the whitest man alive:

The Princess was not a fan of the mustache, which made her role in shaving mine off all the more poignant:

She needs to practice lathering shaving cream on my face, though:

The shaving begins:

“You look weird,” she said:

Check out Shiftless Badger’s look of abject horror as I haphazardly wave the razor across his neck:

His fear gave way to calm as he realized how gentle I would be:

INPY started the night filming a Got Milk? commercial:

Starting Today goes to town on INPY’s face:

Mel makes her husband Fraim pay for participating in Movember:

Then Foxymoron shows her how it’s done:

Satan took over Rory’s body shortly before being shaved:

It didn’t stop Cagey, though, from shearing that thing off his face:

Cagey feels up Rory’s post-shave upper lip:

To read more about our month-long Movember journey, click HERE. I leave you with this exchange between The Princess and myself a few days ago:

AJT: “I think I’m going to move right along into Beardember and grow a beard in December.”

The Princess: “Why can’t you be normal?”

I don’t have time for a long, explanatory blog post on Movember, our team’s valiant effort to fight ass cancer, or the state of our mustaches. Suffice it to say, our facial hair has helped us frighten off our girlfriends, wives, boyfriends, fuck buddies, family members, and pigeons.

We met last Tuesday evening for happy hour beers at Madhatter. We ridiculed one another, took some photos of the absurd state of our faces, and we then kicked ass at trivia, winning a $25 gift certificate off our tab. Booyah.

Foxymoron, Nickels, and INPY wax the ends of their ’staches as they plot their evil plan:

and I plot a much less evil plan to foil the above-mentioned evil plan:

Shiftless Badger is agog at the awful state of our mustaches:

Nickels thanks INPY for growing the hairiest ’stache by giving him the manliest kiss I have ever wished I hadn’t seen:

Trivia night, shmivia night, that’s what I say:

Nickels tried to kiss INPY again after this photo was taken but INPY slugged him. I’m not sure what hospital Nickels went to:

With the month (thank you, God almighty, thank you!) nearly over, we will have some Movember party announcements coming soon. Thanks to everyone who donated, you guys have made a huge difference, trust me. And for those who promised you would but haven’t “gotten around to it yet”, well, I can’t be much clearer than this: DONATE HERE. CLICK ON THESE WORDS THAT YOU ARE READING. THE ONES YOU ARE LOOKING AT RIGHT NOW. THAT’S IT, MOVE YOUR CURSOR RIGHT HERE AND CLICK THE MOUSE BUTTON.

Thank you.

There was a moment last week when I thought to myself, “I’m starting to like my mustache. Maybe I’ll keep it even after Movember ends.”

Then a flock of pigeons tried to kill me.

I was walking back to work from lunch, stroking the ends of my ‘stache like a man who had just tied a beautiful woman to the train tracks, imagining in my mind’s eye how awesome it looked to everyone around me.

Having my hand up near my mouth must have made a group of pigeons think I was eating something. Or maybe they’re just really stupid. Because in that one moment, hundreds of these sky rats descended on my face.

It was like a scene out of The Birds. Pigeons on my right, pigeons on my left. Pigeons clamoring at my feet, pigeons on my shoulder. You’d think I was Ace Fucking Ventura: Pigeon Detective the way they all gravitated toward me in unison.

In my bewildered state, I looked straight ahead and saw one of the ugliest gutter birds I have ever seen take off and fly directly at my eyes. It all seemed to happen in slow motion. We made eye contact. He accelerated. And I could have sworn I heard him say, “I’m going to eat that caterpillar resting on your upper lip”.

I dodged his flight path at the last minute and started to walk faster to the safety of my office building. Since I wasn’t playing a real-life version of Duck Hunt, I couldn’t do much more than politely nudge them out of the way with my foot, which is a nice way of saying I kicked them. “You are mistaken!” I yelled as passers-by stopped to stare and laugh at my avian plight. “I do NOT have any food!”

These pigeons were undeterred, following me all the way to my building while I flapped my arms and lurched violently to scare them off.

It never occurred to me when I started Movember that a gaggle of pigeons would someday try to kill me. I knew I would encounter some teasing from friends and alienation from The Princess, but not an all-out air assault on my face.

Still, I am ready to shave this monstrous thing. And I think everyone around me is, too.

While meeting my friend Chinese Buffet Pussy for lunch the other day, she took one look at me and started to laugh. And she couldn’t stop. I managed to squeeze a question in between her howls of amusement.

“Do I look like Zorro yet?” I asked her.

“You look like something.”

I look like something. That might be the understatement of the month. Because looking like this has not been easy. Especially this past week, when every glance at the mirror is followed by an automatic face cringe. The Princess can’t kiss me without covering my face’s veritable chyron with her hands and looking only at my eyes.

Ten days, that’s all I have left with this hairy mistake. If you feel sorry for my condition, please click HERE to donate. All monies go to the Prostate Cancer Foundation to fight ass cancer. Any amount is appreciated, but remember, $10 gets you an open bar at our end-of-the-month Movember party.

And now for the real reason you skipped slogged through my blog post: Photos!

“No, INPY, I do not want to buy insurance from you.”

Cagey could not keep her hands off my face

MJ: “Your ’stache scares me.”

: “There’s some candy in my van, kids.”

“You’re cheating!”

Since the start of Movember, I had read and re-read the charity event’s five rules of growing a mustache. Rule #4 states:

“There is to be no joining of the handlebars - that’s a goatee.”

No problem there. So why was I getting flak from my teammates?

“It looks too much like your goatee.”

This was true. In the nine days since I decided to enter this event all in the name of raising money to fight ass cancer, I had been growing a trucker, or handlebar, mustache. It initially caused problems with my girlfriend, who tried to remind me that, no, I do not, in fact, drive a big rig.

In my defense, I was clearly not violating the Movember rules and it looked much better than I thought it would. Still, when my Movember team — the Committee for the Restoration of Trebek’s Upper Lip Hair – met last Friday night, they were adamant.

INPY’s effort, though clearly the winner so far for fullest ‘stache, reminded me of an insurance salesman. Nickels and Foxymoron were cursed by light, blondish facial hair that hid their otherwise obvious forays. Shiftless Badger was growing quite the great 70s-gay porn mustache, and Rory’s lackluster effort prompted me to ask him repeatedly if he knew he was supposed to actually be growing one this month.

“You have to shave,” they said, badgering me over lots of beer and wine at Rory’s place.

I realized that though I was technically staying within bounds of Movember’s proscribed regulations, the goodwill of my team was more important. So I borrowed Rory’s Gillette Mach 3 and dragged its triple-blade action system over the sides of my mouth.

“Much better,” my teammates said afterwards. We polished off another bottle of wine and several six-packs of beer, one of which I bought at a liquor store from a beer wench who showed me a photo of her “Free Mustache Rides” t-shirt on her cell phone.

Even done in the name of fighting ass cancer, Movember has been a bewildering event, much like a vegetarian finding herself at Fogo de Chao or a Guatemalan rooting for a winning soccer team. Having a mustache opens you up to inquisitive looks and openly personal questions, all revolving around the same theme: “What in the name of Yahweh are you doing?”

Still, it has not been as embarrassing as I had expected. People at work seem indifferent to my mustache and people on the street don’t look at me any more or less than normal.

As a team, we passed our fundraising goal on the FIRST DAY of Movember, making the Top 20 Money Raisin’ Teams in the U.S.:

We have since revised our target figure, one which we continue to inch toward thanks to the generous donations of family, friends, and readers. You guys have been more than great, in fact, as evidenced by my friend Ladder 49, who showed her support for my ’stache by growing one of her own (not bad for two-days’ growth):

We still need your help in raising money, though. You can click HERE to donate.

We are also hosting the official DC Mo Town Party (fondly nicknamed Alcohol and Razors), which will be held at the end of the month at INPY’s house followed by a field trip to . We’re discussing giving away some prizes and anyone who donates at least $10 will have an open bar (at INPY’s). The top donor also gets the dubious honor of shaving a Mo Bro’s month-long mustache.

I’ll continue to update as our mustaches fill in and scare off little children.

“I’ll give you $100 not to do this,” The Princess said a few weeks ago when I told her I was growing a moustache for charity.

After shaving off all my facial hair Tuesday night to kick off Movember, she took another look at me and revised her promise.

“I’ll give you $200 now.”

The Committee for the Restoration of Trebek’s Upper Lip Hair met up Tuesday night for dinner, Schlitz beers, and a ritual – yet somewhat traumatic — evening of shaving as we celebrated the beginning of Movember, a month-long charity event in which we defy conventions and grow our moustaches for a month.

In exchange for this defiance and aesthetic abhorrence, we ask for donations through our Movember site that go directly to the Prostate Cancer Foundation.

Our team (also known affectionately as Alcohol and Razors) gathered at Captain Foxymoron and home not only to get drunk and shave (not necessarily in that order) but to hammer out the details of our charity effort.

We decided to throw the official DC “Mo Town” party at the end of the month at INPY’s home for all our Mo Bros and Mo Sistas participating in the DC area. We would be grateful for any donation amount, but people who generously give $10 or more will have an open bar all night. The biggest sponsor will be allowed to shave our moustaches.

You can make your one easy payment by clicking here.

I don’t believe I’m exaggerating when I say that Tuesday night was a bit dramatic for me. I first grew a goatee in college. Not because I thought it was cool, but because I finally could. Having never been blessed with my Jewish/Latino’s facial hair heritage, I jumped at the chance to actually sport more than just peach fuzz. Since then, I have had some sort of hair on my face for 11 years.

After intelligently downing many beers, we decided on Tuesday night to document for posterity the beginning of Movember.

This is a “before” photo of me dreading what I know I must do yet still smiling for the camera.

Nickels takes an interest in watching me shave. I used a Gillette Fusion quadruple blade “system” and regular white shaving foam:

To preview what I will look like in a month, I shaved everything but the moustache. I decided to shape my sideburns into mutton chops. I have since shaved everything.

What I look like today…not as bad as I thought it would look though The Princess kept calling me “a stranger”.

Foxymoron’s “before” photo:

Foxy starts shaving:

He lost about 80 years off his baby face when he was done:

Nickels busted out his quick razoring skills:

The “after” photo:

Though our three remaining teammates didn’t need to shave, we took their “before” photos, too. Here is INPY:

Rory:

And Shiftless Badger, who once sported a goatee but whose recent decision to go to culinary school prompted him to abide by the school’s rules and shave:

After drunkenly applying sharp razors to our faces, we celebrated by going out to the 18th Amendment for some cheap High Lifes and pizza.

No one looked at us weird.

The first moustache I ever saw was my father’s.

He wasn’t a cop, a lounge singer, or a porn star. He was Argentinean, which, apparently, was enough reason in the 1970s to grow bigotes.

And though the practice of growing a whiskery pushbroom above your upper lip has since grown out of style in the U.S., relegated merely to certain professionals like Mr. Belvedere and a couple of guys from the Village People, it has continued in Latin America to this day as a veritable — though perhaps misguided — display of masculinity.

My dad finally shaved his moustache when I was 15, emerging from the bathroom cleanly shaved and nearly traumatizing my siblings and me with his new, strange face. Though I never followed in my Papi’s facial hair footsteps, I have sported a goatee and/or beard since I was in college.

Still, who says we don’t all turn into our dads?

In honor of the moustache, several friends and I – Foxymoron (team captain), , Nickels, I Now Pronounce You, Klein, and Rory — have formed the Committee for the Restoration of Trebek’s Upper Lip Hair, a team that will participate in Movember, a month-long charitable event designed to raise money for the .

(There is something poetic, I think, about helping combat the very affliction that strips a man of his manhood by growing the ultimate outward display of said manhood.)

Participating in Movember is, as I see it, an easy two-step process:

1. Start October 31st with a clean-shaven face.
2. Don’t shave for the entire month of November.

Since I figured karma would be pretty happy with this act of charity and would reward me later in life by NOT afflicting me with cancer of the ass, I agreed to take part.

Also, I’ll agree to just about anything short of eating coconut when I’m drinking.

I have said for years that if I could actually grow a big, bushy moustache or beard, I would. Unfortunately, the Jew and Latino DNA in me didn’t combine to create dermis that could push hair out of my face in droves. Left unchecked, my beard merely grows to pubic hair length, after which it gets scraggly and, well, pubic-hair-like.

Still, I am looking forward to my Movember participation and progress. The day before the event starts, my team and I will be going to a barber for a straight-razor shave. We’ll be taking donations and, at the end of Movember, will host a party to celebrate our facial hair efforts.

So if you value your erection or your boyfriend’s/husband’s/friend-with-benefits’ erection, click here to donate for my moustache. You can donate as little as $1, but a $2 donation gets you a tax exemption and a better seat in Heaven, closer to the Jews. I’ll be updating my team’s Movember growth as the month continues.

Thank you.