I am Rudolph. Hear me trot. Baaaaaa.


It never fails. It seems like every time Christmas rolls around, I wake up to a nice holiday zit right on my nose. And I'm not talking about those easily poppable whiteheads or the oh-so-squeezable blackheads. No sir, this is one of those everlasting globular zerts that throbs red for days and days, is sore to the touch, and seems to grow beyond the expanse of my nose.

It's almost as if I'm a were-reindeer who transforms into Rudolph every year before Christmas. Santa would approach me in the next couple of foggy days and look into the shiny speck on my schnoz and call me a crater-faced dookie head. Then I'd give him a swift kick to the groin with my hooves and fly away with all the toys.

But seriously, I hate hate hate having implausible pimples at improbable times. That last sentence doesn't make sense, but it sounded intellismart.

What was my point with this entry again? That's beside the point, but anyway, I totally forgot that I have to make an X-mas list this year for the blog. I'm gonna get ya'll so many lizards.



Lackadaisically yours,

Ricky
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