We Really Need To Find A Cure For Testicular Cancer By November

I have been participating in Movember for three weeks now.  For those that aren't familiar with Movember, the short version is that you grow a horrible, conversation starting mustache by being clean shaven on November 1st.  When someone asks you about your horrible, conversation starting "Mo" you take the opportunity to talk about men's unmentionables...specifically cancers affecting their unmentionables.  Through Movember.com you can also support men growing a Mo with a donation and the money goes to organizations that deal with the aforementioned unmentionable cancers, such as Lance Armstrong's Livestrong Foundation.  All in all it is a good cause, but I hate my Mo!

I really don't see how cops, firefighters, old ladies, and perverts do it.  I have never tried growing a mustache before, and I don't think I ever will again...until next Movember.  For God's sake, we have eleven months to find a cure to prostate and testicular cancer, someone please find a cure so I don't have to grow a Mo again next year...and I don't lose my lone remaining nut, that's pretty important to me too, I guess.

My Mo, although still thin and scrawny, is now becoming long and uneven.  It looks like a cross between a thirteen year old's and Wilford Brimley's.  It is to the point where a few ambitious whiskers are starting to touch my actual lip, making it feel like a bug is constantly trying to sneak into my mouth, making it impossible to distinguish between the actual bugs sneaking into my mouth.  Plus it is getting just thick enough to be absorbent, but not uniformly so.  I take a drink of something...OK Pepsi, and there are random wet patches across my upper lip.  Eat something sugary and/or sticky (which is pretty much my whole diet) and now you have all sorts of dynamic forces acting upon your Mo.

These aren't the only drawbacks, my wife won't even kiss me anymore, saying my Mo pokes her, but the dogs haven't complained one bit (but they are basenjis, so they don't make much noise at all).  In my wife's defense, she stopped kissing me a long time ago, I mean we have been married for nine long, long, long, long, long, long, long years, but this is a new excuse for her. 

The thing is just out there collecting dirt.  I feel like a humpback whale, partly because I am going through life filtering out plankton through my Mo, but also because I move slow, feel like one of the largest mammals on Earth, and ever since my surgery I walk all hunched over.  There is a reason mustaches are nicknamed "crumb catchers", because they are just out there scooping up everything they come in contact with, like lip Velcro.  Food, beverages, dust, spider eggs, toothpaste from aggressive brushing, wayward boogers, paper clips (long story), everything gets caught in it!

For nine more days I will tough it out.  I will never take for granted the ability to sit on the toilet half asleep and run the electric razor randomly over my face, I just have to be awake enough to avoid eyebrows.  At least my Mo is serving it's purpose, it has me complaining about it, and when people ask why I don't just shave it off, I can explain the purpose behind it.  So, support the Mo Bros!  The world will be a better place if there is no reason to grow Mo's next Movember.