I just wrote my November Manifesto. Oddly, it's not too long. Most of my monthly manifestos are at least a page long.
It does not include cold showers, meditation, or Athletic Greens. Why take a cold shower when you can take a hot shower? Cold showers are for rich people. Oh, and people who don't have electricity.
When was the last time you had sex with your husband standing up in your kitchen? Been a while I bet.
I'll get to my November Manifesto in a second.
Last weekend I went back to the college where I earned a Zoology degree. Can you imagine? Four years and a degree in zoo animals. What nonsense. Thank God I had a full scholarship and lived in a fraternity house where my buddy was the controller and never charged me rent.
How did I get a scholarship? Well, it was a surprise to me too.
When I was a freshman, I went to the opening football game. There were a billion people there. Then I saw it.
A goofy-looking fake tiger with big feet running around the sidelines. That looked like fun, I thought. So, I tried out for the mascot and those clowns at Auburn awarded me with the prestigious position of representing the school as a fake tiger in a fake tiger costume. Then they told me it was a full scholarship position.
Sweet Jesus.
So, for my tenure in college, I was a dude wearing 800 lbs of fake fur and hyperventilating all over the state of Alabama. I almost died three times but I am going to save those stories for my next book.
Anyway, I had a hell of a time being the mascot. I met cool people, flew on private jets, saved children, and got punched in the balls repeatedly by 4-foot kids.
And I won the national championship in 1995.
That madness led to me becoming a professional mascot in the NFL for 12 years because we all know the only job you can get with a Zoology degree is scrubbing gorilla feces off walls at the Atlanta Zoo. I would know because I interned there and found out gorillas like to use feces as wall art.
As a professional mascot, I performed in Japan, Guantanamo Bay, Egypt, Europe, and around the United States. I caught myself on fire, dated cheerleaders, and almost broke my neck jumping into a pool of man-eating sharks in the center of the field during a playoff game. I did the dirty bird dance a trillion times, went to the hospital because of a skit I did with Michael Vick, and threw hot dog buns into the crowd for no reason at all. I performed at the Super Bowl in Miami and snuck my buddy onto the field at the beginning of the game. The FBI told him to leave shortly after.
Looking back, I had some amazing adventures.
But now I am old. I live in an apartment. I have a job. I fall asleep at 9 pm.
Which brings me to my November Manifesto.
MORE FUCKING ADVENTURE.
That's it. One sentence.
I gotta get back to my roots. Back to adventures. Back to being alive.
Say yes to life, folks.
Trey