Shatner, Eat Your Heart Out

So here it is: the second-to-last post of the Sober Movember variety. I’m approximately 29 hours and 45 minutes from having my first sip of that sweet, sweet (well, in all likelihood, incredibly bitter) beer. I’ve been going back and forth for the last few days as to what my first sip is going to be: Bridgeport’s winter brew, Ebenezer, or their splendid ultra-IPA Hop Czar, or Widmer Brothers’ BRRR!, or Full Sail’s Sessions Lager (which our bar got specifically for the three of us to drink) or, or, or…

 Spalding: I want a hamburger. No, cheeseburger. I want a hot dog. I want a milkshake. I want potato chips—

Judge Smails: Spalding! You’ll get nothing and like it!

 Fine, fine, I know. I’ll have plenty of time to rediscover all these brews in due time. I’m just…just…excited. What’s that old corny phrase? “If you love something, set it free, and if it comes back, it’s meant to be”? Something like that. Well, guess what, booze? I’m coming back, baby. I missed you. Did you miss me? Let’s be friends forever!

 A lot of people find it difficult to believe that I actually have gone what-will-be a month without a sip of alcohol. I mean, there’s no accountability here. I’m not sending in piss-tests, nor is there a webcam on me 24 hours a day, so how does anyone know that I’m not drinking my ass off and lying to all your lovely faces? It’s all about the honor system, and as much as I would like to have that money, I can’t take it without earning it. I have morals? Whoa, no way! It’s hard to believe for some of you, I know. Just don’t tell anyone—it’ll ruin my street cred.

 I don’t know if I’ll keep writing regularly after this. I mean, yeah, I miss writing regularly, but it’s definitely been a drain on me the last few weeks. I only have so much to write about. Plus, the less I write, the more you jerks will appreciate it when I do. So stay tuned, but don’t hold your breath, if that makes sense.

 Here’s your mustache.

 Don't be jealous of my elegance.

She packed my bags last night, pre-flight.

Zero hour, Nine Aye Em,.

And I’m gonna be HIGGHHHHHH as a kite by then.

I miss the Earth so much, I miss my wife.

It’s lonely out in space

On such a timeless flight

 Look up Shatner’s spoken-word version of this on Youtube. It’s life-altering.


3 Responses to Shatner, Eat Your Heart Out

  1. Isaac says:

    Sweet and bitter? Sounds like Dogfish Head 120 Minute IPA!

  2. Chris the Karaoke God says:

    “Here’s your [moment of] mustache [zen].”

    120 Minute is outstanding and through-the-roof expensive (at least over yonder) — the way it should be.

    I wouldn’t wanna blast my palate (that’s what she said) on my first taste of luscious brew in a month, though. Honestly, I’d honor the Oregon homeland and dive into a Dead Guy. Safe, tasty, satisfying, warms you up for the big time.

    It’s the layup drill before you go Vince Carter on some seven-foot French dude.

  3. Christian says:

    “It’s all about the honor system, and as much as I would like to have that money, I can’t take it without earning it. ”

    Well, yeah, and you’d be lying and taking money from your mother. And, let’s be honest, you’re not nearly a terrible enough person to do that. You’d have to be… Well, me.

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