Mustaches

Today I helped with a service project for the city youth council.  We held a fiesta themed dinner for the senior citizens in the city.  It was good fun.  We all dressed up like happy Mexicans and wore happy hats and happy mustaches.  We all welcomed the couples in and sat them down and everyone started to eat.  My job was to be a greeter at the door.  I was just chilling, about to go inside the cafeteria, since all the people were pretty much there, when I saw a Mariachi band walking toward us in the commons area.  I was decked out in an outfit that basically made me look like a cowboy with a black mustache and a hat with dangley things on it, complete with boots and a Texas-Ranger-looking shirt.  As they got closer I could see that they had real, honest to goodness mustaches.  They looked a lot like this.

Real Men

I lowered my head in shame and removed my black felt mustache, being a teenage boy who only has to shave about once a week.

Later, when we were cleaning up, we sucked some helium out of the balloons that we used.  Why is it that whenever I suck helium I can't ever think of anything to say without it being really awkward?  I don't know.

Later Party People.