Downward Pore Unclogging Spiral

Have you ever wanted to clear your pores out so badly, that you literally scrape your skin off with your nails trying to get that one ridiculously blocked pore?  It's terrible enough to admit doing that, but to also have repeated this act on numerous occasions is just embarrassing. 

The process always starts off simple enough...
Wash face, brush teeth, maybe floss a little, look at some face products and then get up REAL CLOSE to the mirror to start the ritual of pore excavating.  Sometimes this involves using your tongue or face muscles to stretch out facial areas thereby uncovering even more hidden clogged pores.  This act is never pre-meditated, but almost always a "fly by" decision as you finish brushing your teeth.  Smiling really big in the mirror to be sure your teeth are EXTRA sparkly clean, something catches your eye.  You stretch out your chin and (GASP!) expose fifty hidden clogged pores.  Now you are determined to clean house.  Using techniques your grandmother has passed down from her grandmother's grandmother (and so on), you carefully perform surgery.

Once complete, and feeling quite good about the money you just saved yourself from not having to get a facial, your productive feeling suffers a brief pause.  Wait, maybe there is more to this one clog?  This clogged pore is like that toilet clog that your four year old caused by using a full roll of TP in her "wiping" escapade.  After an hour of seriously working your arm in a tug of war with the plunger and toilet, it notoriously fools you it's now clear, but then mysteriously comes back to a state of full clog instantaneously.  Tricky clogged pore is very much the same.  Gentle pressure techniques seem to work, and you're about to turn away, when you try again for giggles... and there's more in there?  WHAM!  In a flash you are transported back in time to the day you got your hands on the soft serve ice cream dispenser and with wondering eyes whirled the soft ooze to your hearts delight.  Out of sheer amazement that your pore can hold that much in, you try again... MORE?!?!  It's like a treasure hunt now, and you're addicted with each pore gem that is revealed.  Herein lies the onset of the downward pore unclogging spiral.  Once your addicted - you can't stop.  You would willingly run through a thorn bush and bathe in boiling lemon juice before you would stop pecking at your face.  What started as a gentle pressure, worsened to a squeeze, and quickly escalated to a full on flesh scraping facial with a vice-like grip from a bad horror film. Apparently stabbing and slicing off your face with your finger nail is more efficient than a clay and avocado mask.

At the end of this downward spiral you are left broken and appalled at your own grotesque, red, swollen, and pocked reflection.  Crescent moon slice marks all over your face, open bleeding crater holes where there was nothing before, and a serious acknowledgment that you need to find a hobby. 

5-0, 5-0!!!

WARNING!!!  WARNING!!!
OBSCENITY POLICE!!!  

AVERT YOUR EYES IMMEDIATELY!!!

Sorry folks, the obscenity police have viewed the site and have deemed it beyond PG-13.   It's no longer advised, overlooked nor acceptable for me to use anything verbally obscene or indiscriminate in any posts moving forward.  Although it's extremely funny to me, I am apparently offending some, and that was never really my intention... so I'll have to find more "creative" ways of expressing my blog writing.  If you noticed these words in my posts and were offended, then my apologies.   They've already been updated to a more "user-friendly" version, and you will no longer see any expletives (outside of a few suggestively placed things that insinuate that word is there for dramatic effect).

Ahhh... it was fun while it lasted.  *Clink-clink* here's to the potty mouth comedians out there... I'll always light a candle for you.

Thank you, thank you.. really you're too kind.  I'll be here all week.
Try the chicken piccata.  Or the crow... the crow is FABULOUS.
For dessert you can try the humble pie.  The crust just melts in your mouth ever so gently... like censorship - er - butter. 

You can wash it all down with a large glass of shut the hell up.
That is my favorite drink... really wets the whistle and hits the spot.
Peace.

People Are Strange

Walking through the city (and suburbs) you see some interesting people.  One of my favorite past times actually is people watching.  What I didn't expect with the latest session of people watching *in the year 2010* was to come across what I did...

There are still people out there with tails in their hair?  REALLY?  I understand in remote areas of the country we could still find sightings of the "Mullet".  This sort of thing, however, is ever elusive to the metropolitan cities of recent years.  You can imagine my surprise when I saw an actual real live sighting of "THE CORPORATE TAIL".  I couldn't believe it.  Surely we have evolved as a society that this hair appendage has recessed into the hairline, no longer to be seen on the modern Homo sapien!  Astonished, and flabbergasted I stared a good ten minutes at this gentleman - all dressed in a perfectly normal business suit - as he walked down the street with an otherwise tailored hair cut, and this long hair tail swooshing in the wind behind him.  Man, bad move dude.  What ever interview you are going to, they aren't going to hire you because "Management is restructuring".  Sorry to be the bearer of bad news buddy.  The days of business up front and party in the back have LONG GONE.  Get with the program.

Then there was the interesting man with the dirty, rusty, grass covered lawnmower hanging out of the back of his trunk.  Driving along in his old school '89 Buick, blissfully unaware of his absurdity, with his shining low profile rims and tires maintaining the car at the lowest possible level so as to ensure maximum pavement scraping with each bump.  What the hell is he doing with a dirty old lawnmower jutting out of the back of this ghetto mobile?, I ask myself.  Does he have a dirty lawnmower fetish?, is this one of the fifty other dirty lawnmowers he has hidden in a secret storage container stash?  Is he an altruistic soul who randomly mows others lawns because he can't stand the site of an un-manicured lawn - 'THE LONE MOWER MAN'?  Maybe a disgruntled landscaping person?  What's the possibility that he may actually pull over and start mowing the median strip, just because it's far too overgrown to his impeccable standards of lawn maintenance?  A plethora of ideas are flowing to explain this phenomena...

Then there is the person I saw jogging on my way to the coffee shop this morning.  This person had taken the front of their sleeveless t-shirt and twisted the bottom of it (creating a tube) to then insert it into the collar, pulling it through to the bottom of the shirt.  In conjunction with this they were sporting quite possibly the shortest shorts I have ever seen on a middle aged person.  Thus creating a bikini top from the original sleeveless t-shirt (which was perfectly normal to begin with), and daisy duke bottoms to match.  Now, if they had an affinity for Pamela Anderson and wanted to do their best impression - it was a sad non-performance.  I really feel compelled to send a question into the universe regarding this eyesore...

Dear person: Was there some reason that you felt turning your shirt into a hooters t-shirt was appropriate for the 9 AM jog you were taking this Monday morning?  I mean, I commend your ability to put yourself out there, and let the world take in your visual... but your appearance was a little off-putting to see at 9 AM when my coffee had barely set in.  Thanks for the comedic relief, but I think that relief could have been better timed at like, oh I don't know, 4 PM.  I almost need an Irish coffee for that visual risque jogging person.

I've said it before and I'll say it again, in my perfect universe everyone would be a eunuch or a department store dummy. In that world there are no weird body parts left to the imagination, or exposed for that matter.
Asexual African frogs are cool too.