My mother-in-law decided a while back I needed to visit the dermatologist. She said that he could do something about my forehead. I went and looked at it the mirror, my forehead, just like it’s always been. Anyway, months of nagging that only a mother-in-law can do, I go.
So I’m sitting in the waiting room, surrounded by clear-faced high school cheerleaders. There lots of dermatology magazines to look at. I see this diagram of a zit cross-section. Ok, nothing new. My visit goes fine; forehead: normal; checked for skin cancer–nothing wrong with my skin and that was that.
Only it wasn’t. That image of the zit has haunted me ever since. As I read things on my computer, my hand guides my mouse in the outline of the zit on my screen. Sometimes it has large pus reservoir, sometimes just a black head. I think about how I’d pop it! It’s driving me crazy. It is much worst than when “Rocky Mountain High” was stuck in my head for a few months, or when my I.V. stand played “Louie, Louie” to me all night after my appendix ruptured (Ahhhh, good ‘ol morpheme). Even as I review this text, my cursor is flying over the page in that old familiar shape.
Did I mention the other night we had mashed potatoes and gravy? I build a working zit with gravy pus. Wifey was not amused.
So, my mother-in-law is bound for the mother-in-law hall of fame no doubt, and I’m to become a crazed street-lunatic[sup]TM[/sup] destined to fall to my death after trying to pop a water tower.
I never understood why Neary had to throw all the bricks, etc., into the house to build Devil’s Tower, when it would have been more practical to work outside: extra dirt would have been right there. Except that it was necessary to have the TV image juxtaposed with the finished 3-D product, but a shot through the window would have worked just as well, maybe better.
Confusion #1:Rilch? Am I being whooshed or did you reply to the wrong thread?
Confusion #2: What was the issue with your forehead that you needed checking on? Zits? A mole? Sounded to me like you had a normal noggin to begin with.
And playing with your food to make it look like a zit is just ooey. Funny, but ooey.
Rilchiam is referring to Close Encounters of the Third Kind, and the bit where Richard Dreyfuss’ character becomes obsessed with sculpting the shape of the mountain out of whatever materials are handy.
As a result of this, I am now envisaging the ending of Close Encounters, only instead of the alien mothership coming through the clouds, I’m seeing a gigantic thumb and forefinger, closing on the top of the mountain and squeezing…
Great image, SW! Yes, that’s what I was on about. I always think of that when someone plays with mashed potatoes, as NMKIA was describing. In his OP, he seemed to be in a similar state of mind, so I thought I’d join in.
There’s nothing wrong with your forehead?
Then I would be obligated to buy a professional make-up kit, and every time I saw mother-in-law I’d have a swell new oddity to display. Three-headed pimple, port-wine birthmark…an eyeball…you know. JMO.