A few weeks ago, I attended my friends' Grace and Craig's wedding in Jackson, Miss. (and apparently I'm banned for life from the South after questioning the use of the Confederate flag in a blog). Since the weather was quite a bit warmer down there, I busted out my summer suit -- a lighter, gray outfit that I don't wear often.

I don't wear suits often at all, but when I do, it's usually a darker, heavier one. However, it turns out I haven't worn the gray suit since two Halloweens ago, when I dressed up as "Borat."

The reason that I know the last time I wore this suit was revealed about half-way through dinner, when I noticed a few small plastic bottles in my breast pocket. It could've been the open bar talking, but I broke out laughing when I realized that I still had a tube of spirit gum, a tube of spirit gum remover, and most importantly, a fake mustache in my pocket.

I knew then and there what I needed to do.

I patiently waited through dinner, until the dancing started. Then, I waited until Craig was taking a little breather. I waited until he was talking to my co-worker, Erin, who was thoroughly enjoying the open bar, too.

Just then, I applied a little spirit gum, slapped on the disgustingly realistic theatrical mustache (made with real human hair -- yuck!) and walked up to the two, casually discussing the weather or something.

As expected, hilarity ensued. My other co-worker, Zach, was on-the-ball enough to snap the awesome photo you see above as I struggled to keep the 'stache affixed during the sultry, Southern night.

It got me thinking: I'm gonna keep a mustache in every suit.

I saw an interview with Leslie Nielson once in which he said he carries a "fart machine" with him everywhere, just to break the ice. Since that's been done, I plan on being the guy with the fake mustache at weddings, funerals, state dinners, you name it -- any occasion in which a little low-brow mustache humor is just what the doctor ordered.