The Mace-stache

Part One: The Mace-stache

Before I can get to that, here's a pic taken on Sunday of my long-lost beard. Sal and I were camping, but I'm saving all that content for Part Two: The Campening. This pic is the frontal bookend to showcase just how hairy I let myself get before shaving down to a mustache for the upcoming SLPeeps road trip to points West. I'll get back to more pics and words about camping and my equally bearded caterpillar friend.

In order to hack through the hedge that was my face, pre-shave trimming was necessary:

I haven't shaved my face for at least two years--whenever Patrick, Sire, Sal, and I all went to Minocqua, WI for the 4th that one summer. And you're damn right the only reason I shaved that time was also for the sake of a stache. Since it's been so long, I decided I needed to bring out the big guns: Schick Mufuckin' Quatro... as in four blades.

Many of us were given these blades for returning books to the on-campus Barnes & Noble bookstore. This is how the transactions usually went down:

BOOKSTORE BROAD
Thanks for returning your seven books!
Here's your $2.36 and a Schick Quatro!

ANY GIVEN STUDENT
What the fuck for? I still have the one
you gave me for buying these books.

Regardless of how silly it is to compensate for terrible return values with a four-edged razor, I can thank my Quatro for my mustache. But first, no man with shaving cream on his faced doesn't feel or look like an idiot.

I was amazed how much milleage Machinegun got out of his staching. For me, the process was swift with few points of interest along the way. Maybe I just didn't want to reapply shaving cream that many times. Here was my process: My beard was there; then it was gone, having left behind only the most bitchin' parts of its whole.

The process was natural, like it was meant to be. I mean, look at that 'stache. I must say I'm looking very makey-outey toniiight. Who wants a mustache ride?

Mothers, lock up your daughters. Sons also, probably. Go ahead and lock up your pets and warm loaves of bread too.

--

Part Two: The Campening

I don't know how to celebrate Memorial Day. I don't think anyone really does unless they've been shot/shot at in a foreign country. Some of those people would rather not remember the experience; other brave ones are in other countries right now being shot at all over again; and the older ones are dead. So Americans don't know how they're supposed to celebrate Memorial Day. Maybe their grandpa fought in Korea. They celebrate by thinking about Grandpa for a few minutes. But they were never told about Grandpa's war years--because they were too painful for him to relive, or every time he did talk about them Grandma would mention the redhead he was engaged to at the time, and then story time was certainly over--so they just remember the things they miss about Grandpa: his hands or pomade. Then, like the rest of us clueless Americans who are just happy to have a day off, they eat another brat.

Sal and I went camping at Minneopa State Park. Actually, we camped on Sunday, the day before Memorial Day--so this post and these pics really have nothing to do with Memorial Day. I celebrated Mem Day in my favorite way: making time-and-a-half.

But camping was fun even though it wasn't as primitive and secluded as I normally prefer. It was great... aside from our neighbors who were up drinking (in a State forest, very illegal) until 6:fucking:30am--drinking, and being loud. They only stopped at 6:30 because Sal, bless her annoyed little heart, reminded them that quiet hours are from 10:00pm the previous night until 8am that morning. "It's 6... 30..." is how she put it. Then they shut the hell up and went to bed while quiet hours were ending.

Like I wrote, though, it was great. I surveyed the land a lot.

And pointed into the distance, Zissou-style.

Maybe I was pointing at an old structure. Those are always cool.

For those of you who are new to Mankato--or you're like me and you haven't yet explored beyond the comfortable circumference of Stoltzman Road and River Hills Mall--you should really check out Minneopa Falls. Make a day out of it. Throw a disc around. Take some Matchlight, brats, a twelver of Fresca and head for Water Falling Twice, as the Injuns would say. Don't forget to check out the falls.

There are two main falls, a smaller one (top center of the above pic, beyond the footbridge) and the huge falls. I don't know how tall the falls are because I'm not good at plaques, what with all the words and statistics. But they're big and impressive and pretty. Who doesn't like waterfalls?

There are paths that wind around the falls, down to the base where people have been going for ever.

I mean that: forever. Major Dakota hangout spot. But I don't think there are any Dakota names carved in the wall--I'm pretty sure they wouldn't have been cool with that. Just imagine seeing "Barry + Denise '73" alongside "Tracks with a Hawk's Eye was here."

Every time Sal gets ready to take a pic, I scoot out of the way. Then she tells me to get back over there. No matter how many times I argue that people ruin pictures, she insists that I get back over wherever.

Then she says, "My turn!" That's when my caveman fingers fumble with the technology box, and she critiques my picture taking skillz. It's a well-oiled machine of a routine by now. But at least I captured her makey-outeyness.

These are her two "action shots," as she kept calling them.

I like them both but I like the second one better. It has still life and movement in the same pic. Besides, it looks delicious.

On the way back up from the base of the falls, I could feel Sal lagging back a bit on the stairs. I knew she was doing it on purpose; I knew she wanted a picture of me on these awesome steps. I argued again about how having me in the picture takes the focus away from the true subject: mossy stuff. But clearly, I lost that argument too.

But to prove my argument, this next pic is my favorite that she took. Not only is it cool in a whoa-metal-band-album-cover kind of way, but this pic was supposed to be of me sitting at the fire. See how much more interesting it is without my interference? Totally.

Mace...out