The scoop ...

I used to love digging in the drawers in my parent's bathroom. It was limbo for dead peachy Clinique blushes and petrified caterpillars, mascara wands in a previous life. There was one tool that was especially fascinating: It was a 7-inch silver wand with a tiny scoop -- like a Barbie-sized melon baller -- with a tiny hole in the bottom. I was told it was a zit popper.

You would place the melon baller's opening over the ripe blemish, and push. If it was the right sort of acne, it would pop, shooting a white line onto the bathroom mirror. The pubescent body's version of silly string. I couldn't get it to work this way, unfortunately. But visualizing it was a 3D visual extravaganza.

I have no idea if that really was a zit popper, or if someone was playing a cruel joke, knowing a zit popper would keep me occupied through graduation. And if it was a zit popper, I wish I had it here right now. There is something growing under my nose, and I want to par-tay all over the nearest mirror.