Poemosexual

This is my second blog posting in a week, a new record I think although I can't be bothered going back through my other ten posts to check. As regular readers will recall I am down in Christchurch working on a show. The show is a musical about the death of Edgar Allan Poe called 'Anything Poes' and features rollicking numbers like 'I Get a Kick out of Rue Morgue', 'Take Me Back to Amontillado' and everyone's favourite 'Let's Misbehave, kill someone and hide their body under the floorboards'. I get to tap-dance and show off my grape vine and box step, (or jazz square as I like to know it) while wearing nothing but a frock coat and a moustache. It also features 30 NASDA students dressed as ravens performing an improvised flocking exercise during intermission and the one armed man with his dancing dog dressed as a black cat in the foyer afterwards.

If only. Just like The Press most of the last paragraph is complete fabrication and I didn't credit my source. Thanks to Timothy Bartlett for the suggestion of 'Anything Poes'. Tim is acting alongside Elsie and I in a play about the death of Edgar Allan Poe but unfortunately it's not a musical...yet...we still have three weeks to run and anything is possible. (Lara, stop reading here.) I do wear a lovely frock coat though and have grown a lovely moustache as Poe had a lovely moustache and there's no point in performing unless you can grow or wear a lovely moustache. (Outwits mission statement 1995.) I'm quite proud of my Poe-mo so here's a photo of it together with Poe's mo to contrast and compare.

As you can see the resemblance is quite remarkable, this is called method moustache acting and takes years of study at your local repertory theatre to master. Poe was also an alcoholic opium injecting depressive with a penchant for 13 year old girls related to him so it's been lots of fun inhabiting the character.

I just can't stop stroking it either. It feels like a caterpillar made out of pubic hair has nestled under my nose in preparation for metamorphosis into a beautiful pubic butterfly. There are lots of circumstances when you may end up with one or two pubic hairs stuck to your upper lip but tens of them is certainly a new sensation I'm still to get used to.

People treat you differently when you have a moustache. They take one look at you and think you are either a porn actor or a cop. I am obviously too short to be the former so they think I'm the latter, either off-duty or undercover and treat me with a mixture of fear, respect and loathing. I bet I could flash my Foodtown/Woolworths Onecard and frisk someone with no serious repercussions if I really wanted to. I'm seriously thinking about buying a flashing red light I can slap on the roof of the Corolla when I desperately need to get KFC and then demanding I get it for free in the drive-through or I will come back and cause trouble with my policeman buddies from Rotorua and a lubed up truncheon. The power of a small pubic like growth is startling.

If you are thinking of growing a moustache I highly recommend it. This diagram may be of some assistance when styling and trimming. As you can see the difference between the porn star and the undercover brother is quite subtle. I'm well on my way to a jihad jack although I'm thinking with a bit of product I could pull off an abra kadabra by the end of the season. A gringo would be my ultimate aim however the moustache will end its life in three weeks due to itchiness issues, so no gringo for me. It has been a fun ride however I must expose my upper lip to the New Zealand summer sun to make sure it matches the rest of my bronzed bodily complexion.