We Wish You a Hairy Christmas!

Mustaches were hung by lips with care in hopes that St. Nicholas would dig that hair.

Every year for one brief evening we welcome ugly whiskers and hideous jumpers into our lives with open arms. The Christmas spirit is, after all, about accepting the outcasts among us and what’s more untouchable than lip hair so bushy it might transform into a beautiful butterfly at any moment? Therefore, let it never be said that the Sabins are scrooges for not only do we repeatedly embrace the disgusting but we mercilessly force our friends to do the same.

The Ashleys dressed in ugly Christmas shirts instead of sweaters.
The ladies looked nearly lovely dressed in their attire glitches.
Yes, ridiculous comes in homemade.

Last week we held our annual Christmas party and the theme was once again unsightly holiday attire and revolting mustaches. Over twenty chums joined us, primed with their tacky sweaters and even nastier facial hair, as we celebrated the season of stuffing by enthusiastically consuming tacos from Rubios and cupcakes from The Sweet Tooth Fairy. Although our full tummies protested, we boogied away the hours after our meal with some beats from Dance Central and then proceeded to the highlight of the evening: the white elephant gift exchange.

Bart and Brandi wore the grossest sweaters they could find but they weren’t gross enough.
Kenny didn’t want anything to come between him and his clean shave so he opted for fabricated follicles.
Brett and Lauren forgot to bring the ugly to the party.

In our version of the white elephant game the gifts remain wrapped until the end of the frenzy. The uncertainty of what’s under the paper doesn’t stop people from picking favorites though and that makes it all the more entertaining when the present everyone’s been fighting over turns out to be a panpipe CD or a box of chocolates so old an archaeologist would consider it an artifact. The unbridled gift stealing this time took over an hour to finish in what was quite possibly our wildest exchange yet.

Jason's
Jason’s mustache was hideous indeed. It made him look like a disturbing combination of French king and country hick.
The men took foul to a whole new level with their knitted fineries, hefty hair, and flighty sentiments.
Jeremy had to shave his mustache for a business meeting a few days before our party so we mourned his recently deceased facial fur with signage.

It was a diverting evening filled with all the jovial overconsumption and cheesy superfluity you’d expect from the season. We hope those who partied with us enjoyed themselves and didn’t have too much of a lingering bellyache from the night’s constant bombardment of tacos and graphic staches.

Happy Mustachemas to all and to all a hairy delight!

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