Flint Westwood... or Ok, I've met Ugly, So Where's Good and Bad?

My sister and I still laugh about her date with "Flint Westwood." She had placed a personal ad to meet someone. She is a stunning girl, with a great figure and a terrific sense of humor, but wanted to try something different to meet her Mr. Right. Well, she got a call from a guy...nice chat...said he looked like Clint Eastwood (in Eastwood's younger, moustached days). So they agree to meet for a drink. She looks all over the bar, can't find him, because there's nobody who looks REMOTELY like Mr. Eastwood. But there IS a guy with an enormous, god-awful mustache, who looks easily 15 years older than he said he was. Sure enough, he's the blind date. They order some beers. He comments that her hair is not really blond (it was dishwater--I suppose he thought she'd be bleached or something). She comes back with "you didn't mention your hair was salt-and-pepper." He then tells her, "oh, it's not--it's probably Dog Hair." He then runs his hand threw his hair, and all the dog hair falls out onto his shoulders and the table. She about threw up. Then, he takes a sip of his beer, and gets foam all over his gynormous moustache. She's trying to be polite, so she points and says, "oh, you've got foam on your moustache." Rather than pick up a napkin, the guy pulls his lower lip up over his 'stache and loudly SLURPS the foam off of it! She stayed just long enough to drink half her beer so as not to appear too rude, then said she really needed to get going.