This. IS. MOVEMBER!

Here goes nothin’…

First thing’s first: I’m giving myself a running start on the mustache part of Sober Movember. My ability to grow hair on my upper lip is just too pathetic–I need the extra help.

As you can see, the extra week of mustache growth hasn’t helped me at all. It’s still pretty skeezy and/or molesterly. We’ll see how magnificent it looks in about 29 days, 3 hours and 54 minutes. But I’m not counting.

That “not smoking” thing lasted about a day–I was so pissy. It started with some very excessive road-rage: I gave at least four people the finger on the way to work Friday. Admittedly, this might have had something to do with the fact that I worked 17 hours the day before and was absolutely exhausted, but still. We have a meeting at 7:15am every day at work, and as someone was going on and on and on and on about the same crap until all I could think was SHUT THE FUCK UP ALREADY I GET THE GODDAMN POINT! I hate those meetings to begin with, but I was extra cranky about hearing everyone else’s bullshit that day.

I did, as you’d expect, go out and get royally tanked last night. How tanked? Well, I made out with two girls, and was informed later that they were a) sisters and b) fugly. Whoops. As Sam said “Ya gotta love sibling rivalry.” I woke up today with Melissa’s name and number sprawled across my arm like a tattoo, which makes me want to get a tattoo there. I mean, c’mon, it looks cool. It’s too bad there’s that whole “trying to climb the corporate ladder” thing to get in the way. That, and since I know my mom reads this, OMG TATTOOS ARE TERRIBLE AND I WOULD NEVER GET ANOTHER ONE! I’d never lie to you, right?

As far as not drinking is concerned, it hasn’t been too bad at all thus far. Granted, I had a mind-crippling hangover to assist me in staying away from the sauce. I’m not queasy anymore, nor does my head hurt, but I’ll be damned if I can form two coherent sentences and then, then speak them aloud at this moment. I went to the grocery store and walked right by the beer section. And hell yes, I did stop and check out the new seasonal brews–I gotta know what I’m walking into on 12/1–but I didn’t buy anything.

I’m debating if drinking O’Doul’s is cheating or not. Sure it’s non-alcoholic, and I can guarantee you that at some point this month, I’ll just want the taste of beer to go with a good burger or something, but let’s look at this from a Existentialism of Sobriety standpoint: a non-alcoholic beer is still fermented just like a regular beer, and odds are there’s a minute amount of alcohol in it. If I drink that, am I still sober then? Whatever, it’s not important. I’ll probably just stay away from it entirely because if you give a mouse a cookie, he’s going to want a glass of milk–or, in my case, if you give a booze-hound an O’Douls, he’s going to want a keg.

I guess that’s all the shit that’s fit to print.