Ever had a blog that you typed up and it was amazing, but when you went to publish it, this site had some type of error? That is was happened with this one. I know nothing is ever as magical as the first time, but here's take two:
Until this morning, I had a mustache that had been growing for 13 days. I didn't really do it as a joke, but I have to admit that it was hard to keep a straight face when someone noticed it for the first time. I also couldn't help but put two fingers under my nostrils, and spread them out and slide them down the mustache. Some readers might wonder, "Is this just a ploy to prove he is a man after his stint as a girl?" No, it is not. I have nothing to prove.
Here is the story of the mustache:
On November 9, I decided to skip class and go to a high school football game. It was the 5A semifinals. Alta ('98 dominate) was playing Fremont. Chris H. came with me. We arrived just in time to pay $6US to see most of the fourth quarter. Alta won, 28-0. We committed to attend the championship game a week later. Chris suggested that we grow mustaches in honor of it. I had already had a day's worth of growth on my face (on account of not shaving on school days, just work days).
The next few days I was sick and had a tissue to my mouth most of the time. This turned out to be a good thing because then the mustache would debut in people's hearts and minds after it had already had some time to grow. My boss saw it and a few hours later said, "I just went through the employee handbook and unfortunately I can't find anything that says you can't have it."
The championship game came and went. Alta lost, but they had a chance to tie the game at the end. The next day, the mustache was still alive. I decided that it had something to prove because people were saying things like, "Is that a goatee?" Anyone who knows me should know that goatees are not how I do. They are more how Lance Armstrong do.
Yesterday, I went to work with the mustache, messy hair, and neck hair that was ungroomed (I shaved my head on September 1 and had yet to cut it anywhere). When I walked into work, my boss said, "I think I'm going to edit the employee handbook. Not because of the mustache, but because of the neck hair." Later in the day, I called him and asked him a question that he didn't know the answer to. As I hung up the phone, I thanked him. Recognizing an error, I quickly picked the phone back up, called him, and said, "Just to clarify: when I thanked you, I really meant to say, 'thanks for nothing.'" He retaliated by picking up the phone, pressing the 8 then the 1 (to access the intercom), and said, "Adam Morrison to shoes. Adam Morrison to shoes." Touche.
Here it is: