Okay, I've been ignoring this, in the hope that I would wake up and find out it was all a dream -- that the men's gymnastics all-around wasn't crazy sloppy, that my TiVo didn't forget to record Big Brother, and that Robert Downey, Jr., looks the same as he ever did. But alas, it's time to wake up and smell the mustache wax.
[Photo: Splash News]
Oh, you can try to smile, Robert, and you can try to charm your way back into my heart. And you will probably succeed, because let's face it, you are awesome. The entire reason I took to the whole Denny Duquette character on Grey's Anatomy, at least initially, is because Jeffrey Dean Morgan kind of resembles you, and if you two were to play brothers in something soon, the resulting fiery conflagration would be due to America's collective loins burning with approval.
No no, Robert, do not look so pleased with yourself. Because there is the matter of that thing on your lip. It's true that I tend to be predisposed against mustaches. I'm an anti-stacheite. There are exceptions -- Tom Selleck is an icon, and although I do not find this man attractive, Victor Newman on Y&R would be NOTHING to me if other characters could not refer to him derisively as The Mustache behind his back -- but for the most part I am always going to question the need for a lip sweater. And you, sir? You don't need one.
[Photo: Splash News]
Hang on, don't interrupt me -- let me finish. I realize the mustache might be for a role, or something. But unless you are playing a porn star, starring in The Young and the German: The Victor Newman Story, or WAY ahead in planning your very detailed Magnum P.I. Halloween costume, there are very few roles that would be worth it. It's like when Lindsay Lohan dyed all the awesome red out of her hair, never to be the same again; she did it for a very small role in Prairie Home Companion for which I think they could've found a work-around, but no, and now she's blonde and a tired-looking echo of her gross mother and it makes me sad.
So please, reconsider. Because I can't bear to see you like this any more:
[Photo: Splash News]
Oh, you can try to smile, Robert, and you can try to charm your way back into my heart. And you will probably succeed, because let's face it, you are awesome. The entire reason I took to the whole Denny Duquette character on Grey's Anatomy, at least initially, is because Jeffrey Dean Morgan kind of resembles you, and if you two were to play brothers in something soon, the resulting fiery conflagration would be due to America's collective loins burning with approval.
No no, Robert, do not look so pleased with yourself. Because there is the matter of that thing on your lip. It's true that I tend to be predisposed against mustaches. I'm an anti-stacheite. There are exceptions -- Tom Selleck is an icon, and although I do not find this man attractive, Victor Newman on Y&R would be NOTHING to me if other characters could not refer to him derisively as The Mustache behind his back -- but for the most part I am always going to question the need for a lip sweater. And you, sir? You don't need one.
[Photo: Splash News]
Hang on, don't interrupt me -- let me finish. I realize the mustache might be for a role, or something. But unless you are playing a porn star, starring in The Young and the German: The Victor Newman Story, or WAY ahead in planning your very detailed Magnum P.I. Halloween costume, there are very few roles that would be worth it. It's like when Lindsay Lohan dyed all the awesome red out of her hair, never to be the same again; she did it for a very small role in Prairie Home Companion for which I think they could've found a work-around, but no, and now she's blonde and a tired-looking echo of her gross mother and it makes me sad.
So please, reconsider. Because I can't bear to see you like this any more:
[Photo: INFDaily.com]
... Ha! Just kidding, of course that's not you -- that's a Jonas Brother, dressed up as a cop for a music video, but looking a lot more like he's trolling for work where he'd show up at bachelorette parties to investigate a complaint of unlawful SEXYNESS and then end up in his skivvies balancing a plate of nachos on his night stick.
What's that, Robert? No, I don't understand the to-do over the Jonas Brothers, either, and yes, I realize that means I'm taking giant steps down These Kids Today Street, straight to its intersection with Whatever Happened To Real Singing Talent Blvd. I'm fine with that. But what I'm not fine with is that the first time I saw this photo, for a split second, I really was worried it was YOU, and that YOU had decided to use the mustache as an excuse to dress up like you're in a Village People costume contest. Do you see how slippery this slope is now?
Of course, all would be forgiven if you actually were to dress up like this, show up at my house, and arrest me for first-degree FABULOUSNESS, right before you shower us both in Diet Coke. But I'm pretty sure that's not happening (even though my birthday IS coming up this weekend...), so my second choice would be to continue to love you from afar WITHOUT the throw-rug under your nose. So shave! Do it for me. Do it for Elvis's memory. Do it for Intern George (because what if you are giving him ideas, Robert? WHAT THEN?). Whatever you need! Just DO IT. BECAUSE YOU ARE MAKING ME CAPS-LOCK MYSELF AND I AM NOT COMFORTABLE WITH THIS MUCH SHOUTING.
