Sometimes I wish I could grow facial hair.

I could feel its imminent arrival at the beginning of the week.  A zit of such volcanic proportions villagers would quiver in its shadow.  Normally such circumstances would not more than trouble me, but this particular week appearances are rather more important than usual.  The first week of my graduate teaching assignment.  I spent three hours speaking in front of a group of students with a diorama of Vesuvius on my face.  No the most auspicious way to began my career as a TA.