is often sweeter.

See, I had this balzac zit. It sat there, festering in the recesses of my drawers, awaiting the moment of primeness, and the gentle squeeze that would send pus and blood shooting all over. I was giddy all day with anticipation. And then I came home, messed around a bit, and sat at the computer to read mail.

As I shifted in my chair I felt the little bastard break. A quick trip to the can confirmed my fears: My moment of zit-popping pleasure was stolen from me, the eagerly anticipated goo now smeared in my drawers and down my leg. Sonofabitch.

I’m a clean person. I hate going for more than a day without a shower, and often take three a day. It’s rare that I’m in a situation where I get zits like this, and they are usually brought on by heat, inability to shower, clogged pores (usually Gold Bond) or a combination of the above. So the liklihood of another is slim, but damn. I hate to miss one like this.