I wrote this almost a year ago and forgot but I just now found it and since I'm lazy I'll post it instead of writing something new.
Sometime earlier this year I developed a lovely clogged pore that didn't seem to want to go away, and then it got a friend right beside it and another and then together they dug a pool. So after enough waiting for them to move out of the neighborhood on their own I went to the dermatologist for a zit removal but was surprised with a biopsy and got an undeniably clear result of inconclusive squamous cells. So it was reccommended that I have it removed.
In preparation for having my face cut off, I asked Chris to try to be there in case a crazy criminal breaks in and tries to switch their face with mine. Granted I wasn't under anesthesia and the only thing numbed was about an inch of my lower jaw, but I prefer to be safe, plus since I knew the Dr. wasn't going to give me anything to relax while I have my my face cut off I thought I might have to get drunk and then drunk me wouldn't even realize that my face had been switched, I would just think I had on "beer goggles", unless there's a beard involved and then I'd just thought I fell asleep in some mud. So obviously it's better that he was there.
I don't think Chris was paying enough attention during the procedure because I'm pretty sure that part of my face did get switched. This little part down here where my original pool partying zits were is feeling a little evil. I think it's part serial killer so if I start walking towards you with the side of my face leading you should probably back away or slap me, one of those might work. Its only a small part of my face so I think you're safe as long as you don't give my face a knife or a gun. I think, mostly. I mean I don't think it can really do much without a weapon, right?
Added just now, almost a year later, I'm pleased to announce that my face only tried to kill me once immediately after the stitches were removed and I had a raw spot from the bandages and in a stroke of brilliance thought I'd spray neosporin on it in the commissary. Madelyn still giggles about me doubling over and trying not to chuck cans of pumpkin at the nearest wall.