I mocked it. I taunted it. I made a small voodoo doll of it and stuck pins in it. But now that it’s gone, I kind of miss it.
My husband shaved the ‘stache this morning.
He’d been growing it to be funny and, due to a big job-related downer he’s had to deal with over the last 24 hours (yes, we are not the only sources of misery in his life!) he told me today, “I just don’t feel that fun anymore.”
A sad day for ‘staches around the world.
In other family developments, we were forced to gently usher our oldest child into the sobering discussions of race, poverty-related violence, and really, really gay dancing with last night’s viewing of West Side Story. I seriously cannot watch that film without a constant giggle in my throat. Most notable, I feel, is the package on Ice, as played by Tucker Smith. Nice lift and separation, and an excellent emphasis provied by the fact his trousers are white (separating him from the many other well-displayed crotchal regions in the film). My husband hates musicals, but gets a lump in his throat during a few numbers, especially “A Boy Like That”. Me, I just like watching the dancing and trying to ignore the orange pancake makeup on all the thirty year-old men potraying high school boys. “Rita Moreno is a stone fox,” I say to my husband. He comments on the unflattering lilac-colored frumpy frock she dances in (it’s true, it isn’t that great of a dress). I further comment that the look of the high-and-tight fabulous bums on all the dancing “gangsters” remind me of his too-tight slacks he tried on the other day (no VPL). Not sure whether I’m turned on or kind of repulsed.
The Hogabooms go to bed vaguely confused about their sexual identities and bewildered by the trouser stylings of yesteryear. Sophie exclaims of the Puerto Ricans in the Sharks gang: “They all match!”
Did my post get a little too link-y? Perhaps a little pointless to those who are unfamiliar with this particular 1961 musical? Well, too damn bad. It is MY life you’re reading about, anyway.
Sheesh.