Are you there god? It's me MRSA.

Margaret had to deal with buying her first bra, having her first period, coping with belted sanitary napkins (times have changed for the better, in so many ways), developing breasts and being the child of an interfaith marriage.

And I have MRSA. On my face.

That pretty much sums it up.

Thanks, good night, god bless and drive home safely folks.
Nov 11 '09

All Saints Day

Sunday is the lord’s day and for yours truly, that would mean the lords of the gridiron, my beloved New Orleans Saints. Some people pray to Jesus, I find my salvation in Breesus.

Of course, I was dressed to the nines, that being my #9 Drew Brees jersey, until game time, when I changed to my lucky #25 Reggie Bush jersey, which though falling apart must remain in play as long as the winning streak is alive. It was yet another nerve-racking game in which the Saints fell behind early and spent a considerable about of time digging out of a deficit. Just like they did against Miami & Atlanta, the Saints were able overcome a team with a good defense and a strong running attack to triumph in the end.

My unbridled enthusiasm for the Saints was likely what blinded me to the emergence of a small-scale crisis on my visage. What had begun on Saturday as a minuscule blemish, was now a full blown (blown as in blown up like a balloon) volcanic zit.  Or at least I thought it was a zit. And it was a painful zit too! I was eager to subdue the zit so, with the help a few beauty products, I was sure this would be an easy task of exfoliation and cover-up. A smidge of glycolic, a touch of mudmask and some spot moisturizing and surely I’d be good as new, or at least good as my 40-year-old self is capable of looking.