This one's for Mark, in which I acquiesce

There you go.

So long, in which I'll be shaving now

The trip, the game, the time spent with my brothers... it was all awesome.

But the stache is gone today.

Question, in which I have one

Just out of curiosity, for the combover sporting man, how long does it take to grow out said combover? Five months at least, right? And what on earth do you do with the shock of hair you grow to cover your head in the time that it's not long enough to go from ear to ear? There's not really such a thing as half a combover? Or two thirds a combover, right?

It's all a mystery.

More Existentialism, in which we meet again

Brian: Put 'er there, Elder.
Elder Holdaway: Gah! Bwahahahahaha!
Brian: What?
Elder Holdaway: Hahahahahaha!
Brian: Are you ok? What's wrong?
Elder Holdaway: Hahahahahaha!
Brian: :{/
Elder Holdaway: Hoohoohoo!
Brian: :{/
Elder Holdaway: Ah-ha, ah-ha, ah-ha...
Brian: :{/
Elder Holdaway: Hee, hee, ah, oh, ah-ha...
Brian: You're in Okemos, now, right? Enjoy these last few weeks.
Elder Holdaway: Heh heh heh heh, Ah! Hahahahahahaha!
Brian: Another time, huh? Ok.

Emoticons, in which a whole new world has opened up to me

Jessica taught me this:

:{)

:{D

:{O

:{/

Unpredictability, in which this week is really exciting

If there is one thing the NFL is, it is totally unpredictable. The only two certainties this season are the best and the worst teams (Green Bay and Indy). Otherwise, anything can happen in any given game, like Arizona beating Philly, and Seattle beating Baltimore. Or a team with a quarterback who goes 2 of 8 winning. No really, 2 of 8!!

That quarterback, by the way, the one, the only, Tim Tebow. The same QB who has led his team (sort of) to two straight wins and has put the Broncos in contention for the AFC West Title. The same QB that I will be watching live this Thursday, as the Broncos take on the New York Jets (just lost to New England tonight).

This is going to be awesome.

Poser, in which I'm just pretending

Jack has somehow become convinced that because I have a mustache (or pushstache, as he says it), that I have been mysteriously and miraculously bestowed with the skills of the handy man. "You can fix our broken windows, because you have a pushstache," he tells me earnestly.

Poor Jack. What will he do when he figures out that I have unjustly taken upon me the persona of one who can do things?

Hey RJ! in which I make an obscure movie reference

Get out of my office! And take that ridiculous thing off!

7 Days, in which there is only one week left of this nonsense

My boss stopped by my store today. He almost fell over laughing when he saw me.

Date Night, in which Jessica was brave enough to be seen with me in public

She must really love me.

Fish Eye, in which I utilized Photobooth

Too Tired, in which I didn't do this last night

But the morning works too, I guess. The time change has me all messed up.

Intrigue, in which the game will be a good one

Congratulations to the Broncos and the Jets on their wins today. This means that each team might be playing for something (playoff berths?) in 11 days when they meet in Mile High Stadium.

Good news for the mustache brothers.

1,000 Words, in which it probably isn't worth that

Contemplating, in which I'm considering looking like this all the time

Except that sometimes I have to use both my hands to do things... dang.

Styles, in Which There is no Debate

One of the questions regarding the growing of a mustache is, What kind of mustache will I grow?

I supposed I would just do the simple shave at the corners of my mouth, and let the stache do what it will. And I guess that's what I'm going with. The handlebar isn't my thing (not that any kind of mustache is my thing), and I wouldn't want to shave beyond around the corners of my mouth, because I want to avoid looking at all like an evil dictator.

Some people thin out their mustaches, shaving the area just below their noses, leaving a half a stache, but I don't think that's my style either.

So, for this brief experiment, I'm going with the most simple style.

Awe-struck, in which I meet Him

Hugh Nibley: It's still all foolishness. Complete foolishness, you see.

Me: Uh, hi.

Nibley: What? Who are you?

Me: Just, well, nobody. No! Wait, somebody. Oh, what clever response would impress you?

Nibley: Impress? Why would you want to impress me?

Me: Um... oh, hey, wait! Do you and Elder Maxwell and Truman Madsen do firesides, or whatever they would be called there, together?

Nibley: [Writing something on a notecard].

Me: I'll bet they're awesome.

Nibley: Let's get on with this, I'm certain there was something of terrible import for me to be sent to visit you.

Me: Well, it's just that, um, I'm nervous about people not taking me seriously. I'm growing this mustache, you see, and ...

Nibley: Take you seriously? My boy, I hope you don't take yourself serious. The gospel is serious business, more serious than I'll ever understand. You cannot take the gospel seriously and at the same time take yourself serious. The joke's on us, you see, I believe that now more than ever. Man is down there acting like he owns all that, giving offense, taking offense, taking it all into courtrooms to argue over property. Property! Ha! What does Man know of property? The meek, now there you go, we know what the meek are promised, and to be meek you must have a sense of the absurdity of all of that, and most especially of you.

Me: Ok.

Nibley: We are out of temporal time.

Me: Bye, Brother Nibley. It was nice to finally meet you.

Nibley: [Walking quickly away reading a manuscript.]

--But I'm pretty sure Nibley never wore a mustache.

Anxiousness, in which I consider the Reality before Me

Is anxiousness even a word? I probably should have said anxiety, but it's not so much anxiety as, simply, anxiousness.

Will people be able to take me seriously? I found myself asking this all day today, wondering if anyone noticed the slightly darker shade of stubble on my lip.

I'm confident nobody did.

But what about tomorrow? Or Thursday? It will be there, just THERE.