The Safetys have been shaved off, and our landscape has been decorated with nothing but pure, unadulterated stache. The razors came out just in time for the J!NX Fortress-warming party, so our families and friends could lay witness to the beauty of eleven upper lips adorned with mini chinchillas.
However, reader be warned, for moustaches like these come with a most heinous price. The Big Itch has set in, my friends. Nights have come and gone, epic struggles that found me lying in torment, a thick layer of sweat splayed across my forehead as I clawed and scratched in vain. A veteran will tell you that a moustache is not easily wrangled; they are born free and they wish to die free. Until my stache's will is soundly broken, it will itch my face with a fury that knows no bounds.
Without further ado, I would like to present Week 3 photos (aka The No-Safety Dance)!