Zac Efron out in LA with Sami Miró and their Puppy on December 17th. pic.twitter.com/5DQpBoi4Zk
— Zac Efron's Crew (@ZacEfronsCrew) December 18, 2014
Today's entry into the "Diary of I'm-Trying-To-Hide-My-Hot-From-You" is Zac Efron, with his freshly grown tragi-stache. (He's also accompanied by a beatnik poet that performs in biker bars. Or maybe a girlfriend? One can never really be sure.)
I can't handle this mustache in any way, shape or form. Probably because it's a hair (har har) too close of my dad's own facial hair, and that sends up a big ol' NOPE flag to proudly flap high into the dude sky.
Let's look past the fact that I'm dressed in something that Bubbles the chimp might wear, and note the disturbing follicular similarities. If Efron starts wearing THOSE glasses, I'm quitting this bitch. And by bitch, I mean Earth.
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