I know a moustache

I know a moustache, a real
piece of work.  Have you
met him? 

Lanky, sweaty, in his
girlfriend's jeans, he calls attention
to calling attention to himself.

He screams, “Hey there!
Here I am, a fucking moustache!
I'm the biggest damn moustache
you'll ever see! I'm intense!  
I have a gritty mind, a huge
sense of irony, but an earnest
need for love. Oh, I'm special,
a complicated bit of grooming.”

God, I hate that moustache. He
thinks he's so smart. I want
to tell him that self-awareness

doesn't solve anything.  Knowing
you're ugly doesn't make you hot.
Some things you  can't decorate.