The Da Vinci Load in my pants

So I saw The Da Vinci Load. Woah, that was one crazy, dark, twisted, slick piece of material…on top of Tom Hank’s Head. Wow. What’s up with the hair dude? Damn, they should have used CGI on that shit, King Kong was more believable.

I don’t know. Since the reviews are so bad my low expectations made me not hate the movie so much. It was really long, like waaaaay too long. The thing I hate is that all of my annoying friends all act like they have PhD’s in religious studies now. This Da Vinci crap has replaced the Masonic and Illuminati conspiracy crap. Great. Who cares that a hoax has been perpetuated for hundreds of years, I’m still pissed that Clay Aiken was gay all this time. That silly little freak!

Anyways, I am a big fan of Tom Hanks. He’s usually pretty good. Witness:

1) Bachelor Party
2) Splash
3) Forrest Gump
4) Bosom Buddies
5) Money Pit
6) Turner & Hooch (guilty pleasure)

But anyways, in the protection of the darkened theater

I found a pimple on my neck. Right below my ear. It was one of those subterranean dwellers. You know, buried beneath the outer epidermis like pirate treasure. For some reason my fingers are magically drawn to those. Like those divining rods, my fingers can find a zit in early gestation anywhere. Even without the assistance of a mirror. It’s almost like there are radio signals emitted from the recess of the zit, radioing in its coordinates.

While Tom Hanks searched for the secret of the Catholic Church I played flight of the bumble bee on my zit fiddle. I rubbed it, squeezed it, and pushed on it, trying to coax the puss to the surface. I was engaged in the ground work that precedes a successful popping. It’s a lot like massaging oranges to make it easier to juice them.

When the movie was over, I walked back out into the lights. My girl looked at my neck and jammed her finger right on my growing neck barnacle and said, “Damn baby, did you get in a fight with a vampire in there?”

That’s my girl’s main directive: Zero right in where it’s painful and jab.

Zits

are a bizarre phenomenon of human life. What kind of god, what kind of benevolent spirit of the universe created red, painful little puss bubbles bobbing up to the surface of the skin that beg to be squeezed. How come birds and antelope don’t get zits? I don’t see gorillas popping crap on each other’s backs. But if god did invented zits, why would that sadistic bastard have them emerge on the face and paint them red? That’s shit's cold-blooded.

Engineering staff: Sir, where do you want the bright, red pustules to emerge?
God: Everywhere, I said.
Engineering staff: Even where the attraction and communication grill is?
God: What the Hell don’t you understand about everywhere? Jesus!
Jesus: For Christ sakes dad, I’m watching Big Love.
God: Don’t take your own name in vain.

There is a critical tension built into the hard, shiny red apple glare of zits:

Pop the bad boy or let it ride. If I pop it now, I relieve the pain but, they’ll be red and oozy and people will know I was in here playing mirror yahtzee. I've seen a few jokers that thought they were safe in a veil of secrecy under their shirt, only to have their cover blown by a spot of blood spreading on the back of their No Fear T-shirt announcing "Zit here! Red Hot Zit was Here! He was squeezing! He was squeezing!"

Yoda: A delicate art popping a zit is.
Luke Skywalker: But it’s ready now.
Yoda: Hah! Ready? What know you of ready? Whole lot of pain you will be in, when squeezing pimple when ready it is not.
Luke Skywalker: But it is ready. Ben, tell him. Here look (bitch ass Luke Skywalker squeezes) owwwwww shit. Shit. Shit.

If you squeeze a juvenile pimple you’re in for a whole lot of pain--the kind of searing lightening bolt that leaves your eyes watery. And it’s totally maddening. You could be getting audited by the IRS and losing a fortune, but you will be thinking about the zit on your shoulder blade smoldering and wondering, “When Goddman it? When?”

I can really get fixated on a zit too.

Constantly fucking with it like a dog bothering a skunk. I won’t learn my lesson no matter the punishment. I’ll pinch a zit that ain’t ready and lock up in seizures from pain. Then I’ll go for it again because maybe my squeeze-base was of center and “it’ll be different this time.” It’s like baking a cake: you wander all around with one question stamped in my brain: “Is it ready yet?”

Location, location, location:

Where a zit grows can determine its pain factor:

Anywhere on a nostril is instant death.
Right on the border of the lip and the face is a killer.
I’ve gotten a cramp before reaching for a little fucker in the middle of my back.
How about a temple zit? Want a little headache with that squeeze?
What about a zit on your ass that you find on a wipe-discover?

Cleaing up Acne:

There are many myths about what causes acne. Greasy foods and chocolate are often blamed, but foods have little effect on the development and course of acne in people. Another common misconception is that dirty skin causes acne; however, blackheads and other acne lesions are not caused by dirt. Stress does not directly cause acne either. It is true, though, that anger and stress affect hormone levels and thus bodily oil production, which can cause acne. People of all ages and races can get acne. It is most common in adolescents and some young adults. 85% of people between the ages of 12 and 24 develop acne. For most people, acne tends to go away around the time they reach their thirties; however, some people in their forties and fifties continue to have this skin problem. (excerpt from wikipedia...so...you know)

I have a dream

that they’ll invent a laser. You know, like a little handheld device that will fit on a key chain. I could just microwave the zits. Just cook the little puss core in a puff of smoke. But it’s just a pipe dream. Maybe in the future, probably when I’m dead.

Sincerely,

Medicine Bear