DR. BOB'S LATEST DISCOVERY

You wanna know something I've never really understood?

Why do they (and I'm using the term "they" in a broad sense)tell you that popping a zit on your nose or in your nose area will give you brain damage?

I'm no doctor (unless you count my PhD in RED HOT LOVIN'!!!), but this is a medical oddity that has always left me perplexed and bewildered. And not exactly in that order.

How in the world can a popped zit on your nose turn you into a vegetable?

How long does it take? Do you just pop the zit which then fries your brain and leaves you a drooling baboon covered in your own saliva?

What a way to go, huh? One minute you're a normal, healthy person with a skin blemish and the next minute you're a colossal pain in the ass of some in-house nurse who wishes she had finished med school and not gotten pregnant by some truck driver from Nevada named Butch so she wouldn't be stuck having to change your shit bag every half hour.

I wonder how these people feel afterwards if they have any inkling of thought left in their heads. Are they ashamed? Embarrassed? Do they wish they could somehow reach up and pop just one of the field of pimples now spread across their nose?

I would have to think that getting brain damage from popping a zit on your nose would have to be like going to prison for loitering. You're standing there, naked in a public shower with your soap on a rope clutched tightly to your chest, your butt cheeks clutched even tighter and some mass murderer asks you what you're in for and you have to reply "Well...I wouldn't leave the Wal-mart parking lot fast enough and here I am."

Gawd. Say something like that in prison and you'll spend a month trying to dig that soap on a rope out of your ass, my friend.

It was usually my mother who insisted that I let the pimples on my nose blossom into huge whiteheads, chock full o' pus, nice and shiny.

"Leave those zits alone!" she'd scream, as if I was sifting through her underwear drawer and about to stumble across a collection of sex toys.

As a teen though...before dermatologists were affordable and even considered an option...I couldn't keep my hands off of them. I'd rather go to school with a nose that looked like one big bloody scab than have it covered in zits.

Even if that meant taking on the dangers of potential brain damage.

And I'm still alive. No brain damage to speak of. My petite little nose is scar-free and I'm enjoying life to its fullest.

So kids...take it from Uncle Bob...you CAN pop the zits on your nose and live to tell about it without the threat of giving grandpa a run for his drool money.

I'm living proof of that.

So God bless kitties and suck the chow chow down french fry boo boo slacks nasty pumpitty do.

Fren Fry!

Fren Fry!!

FREN FRYYYYYYY!!!!