In sophomore year, I had a monster zit. I don't know that "monster" is suffice to cover this zit. The zit was huge. It sat on the side of my nose and lurked, waiting for wounded gazelles to pass by. This thing was enormous, this thing was painful and this thing was obnoxious. It wasn't a pimple, it was a blimple.

I tried hiding it with creams and concealers ("natural tone" my fat ass!), but short of sculpting a false nose prosthesis, there was no hiding this thing. It was the Matterhorn of all blemishes. And it just wouldn't go away. I waited for a week, but it seemed to get worse. I started to wonder if it was trying a hostile takeover of my face. Then finally, during dress rehearsal for our fall play The Hound of the Baskervilles, the lead actor stopped in the middle of his line, looked at my pulsating nose (I swear I could feel a heartbeat through that thing. To this day, I believe that it was trying to achieve sentient life) and said, "You know, you have a JUMONGOUS zit right there on your nose." That is when I actually died, the first reported death due to acne.

Except no, I didn't, I only wish I had, because it was the stuff of nightmares. I was actually standing on a stage, in a spotlight, being watched by all of the drama club and full stage crew (including the lighting crew, which seemed to be entirely comprised of hotties) and having my über-zit pointed out to the world. Thank you. Thank you so much Lance Goddard. I hope you Google yourself and also, are now bald and have erectile dysfunction, which someone points out during a very important Powerpoint presentation that you are delivering to the entire world.

I went home and stomped immediately into the bathroom and what followed...well, let's just say that it wasn't pretty. There was blood. There was gore. There was a wound on the side of my face that lasted for a month and left a ketoid scar that is still there to this day, sitting on the side of my nose, a physical reminder to never, not ever, pick at your pimples. And that, my friends, is the end of the lesson.