WHAT HAPPENS AT MANTOBER, STAYS AT MANTOBER. EXCEPT HERPES. THAT SHIT WILL COME BACK WITH YOU. 

Last October, my friend David got married, which isn't relevant to today, except that we had a most memorable bachelor party that weekend.

There was so much fun had, in fact, that we decided at the conclusion of the weekend that we needed to make it an annual thing. Since no one else happened to be getting married this October, we couldn't call the weekend a bachelor party. And thus MANTOBER was born.

Mantober is an all-weekend debauchery fest in which wives or girlfriends are not allowed. At all. The planning started with a facebook group created in April. I even used my remaining vacation days for the year to take off this past Friday, Saturday and Sunday.

If this in anyway sounds gay to you, then you just don't get Mantober. It's a state of mind and a way of life. For one weekend a year, anyway. Impressively, we had four married guys and five more with live-in girlfriends. And they all consented (begrudgingly or not) to letting this happen.

Unfortunately, my employer decided to dissolve its company and create a whole new enterprise, hell-bent on world domination. Actually, we just changed our business model, but the point is, this past weekend was the first weekend of the new company, so nobody was allowed off.

This was the Mantober schedule.
Meet at David's at 9 p.m. on Friday. Party at his house.
Saturday: Breakfast, football and trade-a-polooza (in which we get drunk and make league-altering fantasy trades), go downtown for the night and see where the night takes you.
Sunday: Football at bar during day. Saints game at night.

This was my work schedule.
Friday: 2 p.m. to 12:15 a.m.
Saturday: 12:30 p.m. to 10:30 p.m.
Sunday: 2:30 p.m. to 12:30 a.m.

Did I let 30 hours of work stop me from participating in Mantober? Heck no. I was drunk by 2:30 Friday night and tipsy by 2 a.m. Saturday night. I went to Golden Corral for breakfast Saturday. Surprisingly, it wasn't bad. And I watched football at the bar Sunday before work.

But I did I miss a shit ton of fun in between. Next year, this will not happen. I will be off the whole weekend. It's also been decided that the whole weekend will be downtown.

Oh, and we're getting T-shirts.

THE TINA CURSING CORNER

My mom heard about some website with cheap daily products.
Mom: Gotta be a fucking rip off, right? They got a lot of fucking shit.

Mom still can't stop talking about her favorite show, Sons of Anarchy, killing off a beloved character.
Mom: Fucking shocker. Blew my mind.

I recently started dating a co-worker. She's not a fan of the idea. "You better be careful. That shit can get fucking ugly."

MY HAIRCUT IS POLARIZING

I recently got a new haircut. It has drawn mixed reactions.
Bert: I can't look at you with that haircut.

Marcus: Who gave you that?
Me: Tina.
Marcus: Was she blindfolded? Drunk? On Shrooms?

Paul: You look like a punk.

The last one was the part that made it mixed. That's what I was going for. I think it goes with my beard. Tina also likes it. One day I shaved the chin part of the beard, but Tina did not like that. "It looks like shit."

PARTING SHOT
If you were disappointed with the details about the Mantober festivities, I apologize. But I'm not at liberty to discuss any of that. It's in the Mantober manifesto. Look it up. But I liked this exchange.

Person we encountered: So, is this some sort of bachelor party?
Corey: No. ... It's the anniversary of a bachelor party.