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2002-03-17 9:19 a.m.

We have a situation on our hands. Ingrown hair in progress. You better send backup.

Is there anything more cool than pimples? Well, let us think about this for a second. I will make a list. [For the sake of the discussion, I will assume that blackheads and ingrown hairs fall under the category of pimples.]


• They are full of pus, which fascinates one in the same way a mother is fascinated with her own baby. "This came from me! This is my baby!"
• You squeeze them and then they spurt out creamy goodness. Kind of like masturbating, but you can get away with popping pimples at work without being arrested.
• They are fun. I get insane amounts of joy from holding Andie down and popping her pimples—blackheads, whiteheads, hell, I will even try to pop regular pieces of blemish–free skin just for kicks it is so exciting. She resists and screams and pleads. Andie, this is what you get. Take it! Take it!
• They are free. No cost. Gratis.


• Um...

So, that settles it. I got to thinking about this because two nights ago, I noticed something red, swollen, and lava–filled on my ankle of all places. Oh, what do we have here? There sat a festering ingrown hair, inviting—literally begging—for me to manhandle and violate it like a drunk sorority girl. How could I not oblige? I even took pictures. Actually, I took only the first picture. Andie took the second one. She really is a wonderful person for helping me with things like this.

This pimple deserves what it is getting. I mean, did you see how it is dressed? It provoked me with its inviting, juicy curves. It is literally begging for me to do this.

• • • • •

It looks like we have our first winner of the Twin Towers Necklace. Tollef and I discussed this at great length, and we will definitely be sending one to Peaches Dwyer from New Hampshire, USA. She had a really cool story AND she sent us pictures of herself in a pose that showed how she was basically a sad and incomplete human being—unable to live up to her full potential for glory and honor and the attainment of nirvana—without this necklace. Actually, the truth is that her words were compelling and she sent a cute picture of herself. Hooray for Peaches!

Thanks super a lot to all the other cool people who are writing to us about these. Keep emailing us and remember: pictures and bribery sent to our work address help a lot.

• • • • •

I called my mom on the phone yesterday morning just to tell her I loved her and the first thing she asked me was, "Did Boris really do that with his penis?" So, it seems she has been reading my diary. I explained to her that he really did, and that not only that, but one thing which I think I forgot to write about was that when he did it, he shot his pee onto Adam, who was showering (in more ways than one) at the time of the explosion. I hung out with Adam last night and he confirmed this fact—it was a long time ago and I was not sure if I was just having a false memory or wishful thinking or something. My mom seemed to think that I was weird and asked if I was sure I was her son. Oh, my sweet, loving mom. I am hoping she will come and have lunch with me today.