Mr. wOw’s This N’ That


My weekend with MM, Betty Grable, “The Turning Point,” “Skins ” — plus, good coverage for bad skin

Weekends for Mr. wOw can go in several directions. Once upon a time, I was a big luncher/bruncher, always traveling into the city see friends, or at least gab and network with professional acquaintances. My phone rang a great deal. Those weekends are long gone. The last decade has been a sad siphoning of friends and activities. Depression is a bitch, and after a good deal of medication and a number of therapists, I am still not the wOw I was. And fear I’ll never be again. (Sometimes I can’t remember myself.)

So nowadays I’ll stay in a lot. After all, I reason unreasonably with myself — I managed to go out every day to work, right? What more can anybody expect? (Quite a bit more, but most of my friends have given up. I don’t blame them.) If I’m in, I can spend 48 hours supine, on the couch in my room, the blinds shut, dully channel surfing. B. will check in occasionally, asking how I am. “Fabulous, can’t you tell?” I’ll reply, more sharply than I intend. He leaves my dark room unhappy that I am so unhappy.

Other weekends are different, though not wildly so. I open the blinds in my room and let the sun shine in. I’ll read, and of course I’ll channel surf, but with a lot more interest and enthusiasm. (Notice I am still not leaving the house or meeting friends, but at least I give the impression of being among the living. B. looks relieved and hopes I’m “getting better.” Poor B.)

So it was an open-blinds weekend I just enjoyed. I didn’t read much — a couple of issues of Smithsonian magazine. But I was watching movies like a mad thing. Up early as always, I immediately went to my 200 movie channels. I almost stopped at “Taken,” the terrible but compellingly watchable thriller about a man trying to find his kidnapped daughter, killing dozens in the process. But I moved on ignoring several “Twilight” movies (I like vampires, but not that bunch of dullards) … the excruciating “Prince of Persia” with Jake Gyllenhaal … and even “Mean Girls” with Lindsay. But that made me sad. She was such a doll.

Then I found it –“Rancho Notorious,” a loony 1952 Technicolor western with Marlene Dietrich. She butches it up in jeans as the former bawdy girl who oversees a ranch for outlaws on the run. Marlene was gorgeous, still — if a bit on the embalmed side — and her acting was pretty good, given what she had to do. She even performed a sultry, husky little tune. Arthur Kennedy, Mel Ferrer and Kevin McCarthy are on hand as the men who love and hate her. (Her best moment comes when she allows an aggressive Kevin McCarthy to kiss her. “That was for trying,” she purrs after their lips part. Then she backhands him twice: “That was for trying too hard!”)

This was a big flop — at that point Dietrich had moved onto the world’s concert stages; her days as a movie star were essentially over. But it’s a fascinating flop. (If not quite as fascinating as Marlene’s flops with Josef von Sternberg — “The Scarlet Empress,” for example.)

Then, after Marlene bit the dust — literally, I found myself on the FOX movie channel, and there were Marilyn and Jane Russell, shimmying and belting out “Two Little Girls From Little Rock” in “Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.” Oh, yes! This is hands down MM’s most entertaining film, with her very best co-star, Miss Russell. They play off each other beautifully. And with Monroe at her juicy peak, as the not-so-dumb Lorelei Lee, and the Amazonian Russell, snapping out hysterical wisecracks, it doesn’t get better than this. Not even “Some Like Hot” holds up as well as “Blondes” in the brief canon of Monroe films.

Then, because the gods were on my side, “Blondes” was followed by MM again: “Let’s Make Love.” This one has its moments, but is dragged down by languid direction and a script than gives MM nothing to do. She’s not dumb here — just a normal, attractive, affectionate young woman. She’s in Debbie Reynolds/Doris Day territory.  But try as she might (and she tries!) she can’t breathe life into a lifeless character. So she is compelled to “do her Marilyn thing” in the musical numbers, which gives the film a distinctly schizzy vibe. The pouting, posturing, hip-shaking sex-symbol of the musical numbers has nothing to do with the (sweet, sincere but dull) character she plays. She is voluptuous to max here, and while I find her Rubens-come-to-life shape appealing, critics were not kind. Yves Montand, her co-star, is charming and they have a nice chemistry. (Well, they were lovers during the filming!)

Invigorated, Mr. wOw did some grocery shopping and a few household chores. When I got back to the TV, I knew there was divine power at work: there was Anne Bancroft and Shirley MacLaine at the bar in “The Turning Point,” about to slap, scratch and kick their way from the barstools to the roof of Lincoln Center. My favorite moment? MacLaine tells Bancroft than her (MacLaine’s daughter) could never be like aging ballet diva Bancroft. “She’s not a killer; you’d walk over anybody to get what you want.”  Bancroft doesn’t move a muscle, but she tenses exquisitely, and the thin material of her filmsy gown flutters, ever so slightly. Then she throws a drink in Shirley’s face and the battle is on. As far as ballet movies go, this is as good — in a more realistic way — as “The Red Shoes.” As for “Black Swan” — that is compelling and creepy, but if Natalie Portman wins the Oscar, Mr. wOw will be forced to write somebody a very mean letter. Please — give it to the brilliant Miss Bening. If for nothing else, she took Warren Beatty out of commission just as he was about to become a joke. (His affair with Madonna shocked him right into Miss Bening’s sensible, lovely arms.)

I clicked to Turner Classic Movies and was so pleased to find Betty Grable in “Coney Island.” Miss Grable was a gigantic star, and one of Mr. wOw’s childhood favorites. (Before he was seduced by the tragic messiness of Miss Monroe.) Grable was always a smart cookie in her movies, nobody’s fool. She was natural and appealing. She danced extremely well, and sang pleasantly. Betty was simply fun to watch, engaging and a good role model for women, I’d say. And she was so popular that “Coney Island” was re-made six years later as “Wabash Avenue.” Same story, same dialogue, different leading man. It was successful as the original. Try that one on any star today! Betty, I love you just as I did as a child. And appreciate you more.

Mr. wOw was blissed out. Later, I watched the controversial MTV program “Skins.” This has been trumpeted as scandalous and offensive –“the secret life of teenagers!” Really? Is it any secret teenagers are interested in, and have, sex? Or that they are tempted by, and often take, drugs? The show isn’t a patch on the British original. “Skins” is nothing new, just a little grungier and with an occasional flash of breast or buttock. Mr. wOw was not shocked. Or entertained. Give me “Beverly Hills 90210”–the first three seasons.

And then I came upon one of my favorite infomercials. It touts one of those “mineral makeups” that are supposed to cover beautifully but not look like makeup. Troubled since age 13 with oily skin, acne and now rosacea (with painful adult acne still an issue,) Mr. wOw has long searched for some kind of coverage that wouldn’t make him look like he was auditioning for “RuPaul’s Drag Race.” I’ve tried a lot. When I was a kid, I did wear a more obvious makeup. So what? I was living on my own, in my teens and frankly I applied it very well — and I could do a nifty-looking job on my eyes, too! (Anyway, the whole long-haired teenage boy in makeup thing was hot in the late 60’s, early 70’s.) But time went on. I eventually had a job and couldn’t apply a complete maquillage. I had settle for spot coverage or sometimes when I was at an event — a dark event — I’d apply a light base, the most transparent I could find. But I was never satisfied.

Three months ago I was wandering through Sephora, having just suffered another bout with a particularly aggressive breakout. I was depressed. And there it was, the so-called miracle mineral base, being sold, in a store! I snapped it up, took it home, and applied as directed. I looked flawless. Like a flawless guy, let me stress. Blotchy areas, broken capillaries (ah, the price of drink!) everything was smoothed out. I asked B. I asked my one or two remaining friends. I asked my boss. Did I look a big old aging queen? Nope. I just looked like my skin had cleared up. Nice and fresh. (Well, one friend said, “Yes, you look like a big old aging queen. But you don’t look like you’re wearing makeup.” That’s what friends are for.)

I’ll never wear Max Factor again.

84 Responses so far.

  1. avatar rick gould says:

    Oh Mr. wOW–
    Depression is a toughie. I’ve taken medication for low grade depression for a little over a decade. Wish I had started sooner. For a long time it worked very well. But for me, in the last few years, no matter what I took, not so much. Having been medication free for about 6 months, I think I am seeing that I may not be depressed, but suffer from anxiety. So, I am looking into that.
    The only reason I bring my situation up is that I understand how hard it is in finding the right medication, determining the dosage and if it’s working or working against you…ARGH. A challenge. Plus, we see commercials on TV for these medications and though we know better, we wonder why our blues aren’t magically lifted…
    I certainly wish you well, Mr. wOw, in your finding a balance. And I hope your writing gives you a lift, because I certainly get one when I ready your columns and comments… truly.
    And perhaps one chapter in that book you need to write should be titled: “I’ll Never Wear Max Factor Again”

    • avatar Mr. Wow says:

      Dear Rick….thanks for the good thoughts. I wrote a piece here last year on my depression and I had hoped just by getting it out among friends–rather than therapists who are paid to nod and pretend to listen–it would help.  Maybe it did a bit.  However, I woke today to gray weather and snow.  And although the idea of having to travel through it is annoying, the gray skies comfort me.  I kind of feel why should the weather be sunny and bright when I am most certainly not.  Really sunny days depress me more. I’m like, “Are you kidding with this?  Life is shitty, why pretend?”

      Yeah–back to another try at meds.

      • avatar rick gould says:

        Mr. wOw–
        This might make you laugh…
        When Peggy Lee’s greatest song “Is That All There Is?” came out, it stopped me in my tracks. I felt like it was the story of my life! And Lee’s rendition, so blase and a bit sardonic.
        I listened to it constantly on my transistor radio. My mother thought that was hilarious.
        Why? Because I was in third grade!
        And frankly, that song has come back to haunt me on more than one occasion.
        But, oh no, I’m not done yet 😉
        And hopefully, neither are you…

        • avatar Mr. Wow says:

          Dear Rick…that made me laugh, and gasp a bit.  I recall very well when Peggy’s ode to fatalism came out.  If I was in third or fourth grade, I don’t remember–but I was young.   I did identify. And I thought myself a very odd child.  (My mother was perpetually…alarmed.  Later, I would say, “What–how could you not have known?!)

          I loved being being odd.  Well, at that point, and for some years to come, the consequences were not drastic.

          • avatar Baby Snooks says:

            Speaking only for myself I think odd people have the more interesting lives for some reason. People find us more interesting than “normal” people. And speaking only for myself, well, we end with these odd collections of friends and other assorted strangers.  Sort of like our personal zoos. They far more odder than we looking back if for no other reason than they found us interesting.  Nothing particularly interesting about us. Or odd really. We just tend to know a lot of people for some reason. My observation anyway about other odd people in my life with their own zoos. Maybe because we are not “normal” we just tend to like people for themselves instead of “categorizing” everyone. Maybe it’s just me. I don’t know. I am rambling as usual.  Probably the effect of my “near-someting experience” yesterday at the hospital. 

            I’ve sung “Is that all there is?” along the way. Thought I was going to die. And didn’t . Including yesterday.  You go on. A little more stoic, perhaps, about it all but a little more, well, maudlin about it all.  We keep dancing. Even though at times we really don’t want to.  End it all?  Please. I will drop dead in the middle of a dance.

          • avatar Alicia Burchett says:

            Some of my favorite people in the world are odd.  :-)

          • avatar Baby Snooks says:

            If nothing else, odd people are never boring people.

        • avatar Briana Baran says:

          O, Rick, I remember Ms. Lee’s rendition of Is That All There Is?. I love it!  She sounds full of ennui, and yes, very sardonic. It is actually on my list of songs to learn, though I doubt that I can truly do justice to her version.
          I always pictured an empty nightclub, the bored band performing their last number, and two people, nearly faceless in the dusk of low lights, cigarette haze and the shadows of fatigue, apathy and sleeplessness dancing in a slow parody of passion, knowing that when the music ends, they will part for lives of empty days and nights filled with the ashes of romance.
          Haunting? O, my yes.

  2. avatar rick gould says:

    OK, Mr. wOw! On a lighter note…
    Always love your movie comments…very astute sometimes and makes me wonder why some film historians haven’t caught some of the things you’ve noticed, like the contradictory Monroe image of “Let’s Make Love.”
    Never saw Marlene’s western, but my Mom’s favorite bad western is “Johnny Guitar” with Joan Crawford and Mercedes McCambridge. To say the two gals weren’t particularly feminine here is the understatement of cinema history. Republic studios’ color is so gaudy it’s blinding. One of Joan’s latter day campfests, but fascinating. She went from Mildred Pierce to fierce!
    Regarding “The Turning Point,” I read once that Shirley was not expecting that drink getting tossed and hence, her reaction was totally real. Great scene.
    And if Annette Bening gets overlooked AGAIN for the Oscar, it will be very telling. What, I am not exactly sure, yet!
    I don’t plan on watching the Oscars, but will read YOUR comments 😉

  3. avatar Mr. Wow says:

    Rick…”Johnny Guitar!”  JOan and Mercedes didn’t get along in real life, so that ramped up the butch theatrics. In the film, even both women were interested in men, one could hardly believe it, or that any man had the balls to approach either virago. (In real life Crawford slept with male co-stars, her directors and any other guy she could persuade. And she used to call Monroe “cheap and common.”  Well MM never learned to roll her R’s as grandly as Miss C.)

  4. avatar Mary says:

    Mr.Wow,   I love love love the Mineral makeup you are talking about.  I always hated most makeups because they felt heavy on my skin and also my skin hates chemicals and would break out all the time.  the minerals feels natural and no break outs.  A little bit goes a long way…..So glad you found it!

    • avatar Mr. Wow says:

      Dear Mary…and tho I hate to sound like an infomercial myself, my skin seems calmer since I began using it. (It is so humilating at my advanced age to have acne.  I always feel people are thinking, “what’s with him—doesn’t he wash his face?”)

      But to give credit where credit is due, my latest dermatologist has done a good job, and will always take me as soon as one of those killer blemishes begin–a shot of cortisone usually works.

      The upside?  Very oily skin and remarkably few lines.

      • avatar Mary says:

        Oh and I forgot, I have reversed my cell phone thinking.  Recently picked up a new private nursing case which until I find staffing for am doing myself.  It is flat out boring.  I was trying to think of things to take to do that I could do in the dark all night long while just sitting there on my butt!  My friend pointed out the many things I could do on a android cell so I tried hers overnight.  OMG, I have just taken a leap into the current century.  I can listen to radio, watch tv, ( ok old rerun type tv) but I can watch cbs current.  I can watch movies, play games, email, internet etc etc etc and I can make phone calls too.  I still don’t like the idea of being tethered to a phone, but the pro’s are beginning to outweigh the cons .  Cheers.

        • avatar Mr. Wow says:

          Dear Mary….Hmmmmmmmmm!!!!  

          I will never be able to live life in the palm of my hand.  But I know that’s the way of the (new) world and  that I am fighting a losing fight.

          Some time back, I was gifted with a super-duper IPad or Pod or something.  I gave it to B.  He horrifed me recently by saying that having all that info on a little thing in his hand was “addictive.”  (This from a guy who took a nice early retirement and has a big TV screen right in front of him all day long.)   Mr. Wow was distraught.

          • avatar Mary says:

            I know what you mean .  Hard for me to think that technology is moving so fast and I hope that I don’t entirely live life in the palm of my hand.  I think we tend to forget about what is going on around us.  I fought computers for a long time and now I would rather have a computer than a tv, but then again, they both work together now.  Now with these smartphones everything can work on the phone that can work on the computer and on the tv.  It is amazing.  I think it is a matter of prioritizing what is important and using things wisely.  I hope I maintain my sense of balance but right now I enjoy playing with the tech.

  5. avatar Richard Bassett says:

                    Nothing external is going to provide a permanent resolution to your attitude. It all comes from within. There may be things that help….but all of your answers are in your head. You know exactly what is causing these moods. We all do. You even revealed some of it: a past full of activities and excitement. You, Mr WoW, stopped all of that…for reasons that you know. Maybe you grew weary, same old, same old, and, as stimulating as it was, just lost interest in things that once brought you pleasure. That is depression. A medication, therapist or physician cannot alter your life, so do not look for it from them.  They can only provide a platform to express a repressed way of thinking. I suffer from situational depression and, newly diagnosed, anxiety. But I confronted the issues full on, refused to let it defeat me, and these days….life is pretty much OK. I feel that I am living the life that I would have been living, regardless of these ‘situations’ and actually blossom due to it. It was a struggle, but in the midst of it…I found strength. I am on medication (for both dx’s) and they help but the power to choose comes from me. I feel very resilient (believe me) and could handle life is things were to get worse (though I cannot imagine it doing so). Maybe I am a bit different. I was presented with circumstances that needed a sink or swim attitude towards life. I have made a transition from my 20’s into my 50’s pretty well but with some setbacks. The decades in between are just remnants of these time periods. I do not want to go back; I’ve done all there was to do. My life and my age are in sync. My glory days (these days) involve different activities than they did in my 20’s. Mr WoW, you are a sum total of your past…so only you can diagnose yourself and make or accept the changes. And…again, you know the answer to all of your questions. Who better, than you?  You LOVE movies and it fits into your livelihood, to a certain degree. The knowledge that you possess is very impressive. Movies are a positive coping mechanism for you, so enjoy your guilty pleasures. Shape a life that does not include depression. It is difficult and it is a day by day process, but (since you have to do it anyway), do it consciously. One of your major strengths is putting your cards on the table but it is usually negatively driven. Let’s hear some positive aspects of that strength. I DO know your fears…but life goes on.

    • avatar Mr. Wow says:

      Dear Richard…I don’t think I’ve altered my basic opinion of myself since I left home, at 15.  And I’m sure I knew myself as well as I do now. Too well, in my opinion.  I do indeed have all my own answers.  Unfortunately, in having those answers, I know exactly where I went wrong, every step of way.  I’d love to shift some responsibilty for my issues onto others.  But even those who have enabled me, and/or inadvertently “harmed” me, didn’t mean to–we are all the masters of our own fate.  I certainly have been.  And I’m afraid that knowledge is what is most crushing. 

      BUT…I can still find pleasure here and there.  But is always follwed by a crash of mood. Eh…people have it much worse.  And I’m afraid I always have to go to extremes so as not to fall into my own lavish pity party–I have to think of Haiti or Pakistan or the poorest and most deprived right here.  Or, you know–Chilean miners.  Any miners!

      I am not sold on drugs or talk therapy.  Especially therapy. I drift in and out of various anti-depressants, to very poor results. 

      And I suppose I am neither sensitive or strong-minded enough to pull my head out of my ass to think my way clearly to peace of mind. Or at least to a place that not this. 

      However, life is plump with promise, still.  I haven’t quite given up the reasonably happy, much more engaged ghost of my not-too-distant past.

  6. avatar Richard Bassett says:

    Mr WoW,
                        Your post sounds realistic and abundant in self-awareness. That is such a joy to see. It is so hard to be objective towards ourselves that we battle with no nonscence self-talk and the impression that we want to make (on the world). My best dialog, in knowing my facts as much as possible, is between myself and myself. If I make a mistake, the consequences (sometimes subtly) allow me to see that. It is how I live. I am not the same person now, as I was at 25. I just did not take life seriously enough to achieve the amount of success I (presently) see that I was searching for. Actually, I was working against myself. But I had fun and lived through the eyes of a carefree 25 year old. I would be too exhausted to live that life today: dental work, knee operations, cancer screening and so on. I guess by default, I live the life that I do. I look forward to a peaceful future, nothing drastic or cathartic. My past has gently placed me in this place, where chaos has no room in my life anymore. In adversary, I found my integrity. I know that saying ‘this too shall pass’ seems a bit reductive but I believe that this is how you’ve lived your life. 

  7. avatar SMALL TOWN GIRL says:

    MR. WOW,

    You talked about an old Marlene Dietrich movie in your column, sometime try to catch
    “Witness for the Prosecution”  fantastic old movie . Perfet for a lazy day ……thats what I call
    what you did on saturday. Sometimes its nice not to go anywhere at all.

    • avatar Mr. Wow says:

      Dear Small Town Girl…Are you kidding?  LOVE “Witness for the Presecution.”  Great movie, great Marlene, great Tyrone Power (who was more beautiful  than Mr. Power in his youth?) and a fabulous Charles Laughton.

  8. avatar Briana Baran says:

    Dear Mr. Wow, I hope that I can help. I am not so much younger than yourself, and I have been aware of my differences since my earliest memories. One of those, from when I was approximately five years old, involves a terrible, but fascinating hallucination of astounding clarity that occurred in an 18th century cemetery in the Smokey Mountains. Others include the sounds of footsteps on the basement stairs (different people on different nights) that kept me company every night until the age of eighteen, and the…creature who looked through my half-open door after my parents went to bed to advise me that only closed doors were safe. I was also intensely aware of other people, including my father and very abusive mother, as separate entities from myself, and capable of terrible things that no one else seemed to acknowledge. I included myself in my knowledge of the basic nature of humanity…but I knew that I was much, much worse than the norm. I considered myself a monster, undeserving of love, or compassion, or success.
    I have always been accountable for every single horrible thing that I’ve done in my life, both to myself, and to others. I have a tremendous difficulty accepting praise, or even the slightest of compliments. I see pride as hubris, and success as arrogance, and acknowledgment of my own skill as narcissism. I am cynical, sarcastic, iconoclastic and largely solitary. I have been diagnosed by two psychiatrists with bi-polar I, anxiety disorder-unspecified, clinical depression, OCD…and, unofficially, schizophrenia, because insurance companies won’t insure schizophrenics. I suffer from two very real phobias…heights and entering or staying in a church, particularly Catholic or one of the more Fundamentalist bent, during services. At one time, I couldn’t go beyond the fifth floor in a building, or enter a church at all.
    So? So what? I am very content, and I even experience joy. Yes, I am medicated…after 26 different combinations of dosages and different psychotropic drugs. I do not like taking them, because it is a pain in the ass…but I am indisputably Briana. I see my therapist once a week, and my shrink four times a year. It, whatever you want to call It, does come from within the individual. I am not a self-help person (I think the closest to a self help book I’ve read might have been The Joy of Sex, which pretty much sucked, followed by The Kama Sutra…in its unexpurgated form. I really can bend like that…loose joints…but good grief…), or given to being touchy-feely, but I will tell you that you can feel better about yourself.
    Mr. Wow, you have worlds within you. You are unabashedly honest, you are funny as hell, you write beautifully, and you are accountable. You may see the world through somewhat jaundiced eyes, but not everybody is into rose-colored designer shades. You don’t have to look at yourself as gorgeous (we’re all getting older, dahling…and some of us never were), or Mr. Rogers, or even the Good Humor Man, but you do have to tell yourself some hard truths…including the fact that B. would not have stayed with you if you were quite as loathsome as you suppose, and that you still do have friends…and that there are core friends who love you as you actually are, not as they want to, and have to see you…and all of the rest, and that there are people on this site who look forward to reading what you have to say…even if we are strangers in the ether.
    I survived for years. Now (cliche alert) I am living. It’s quite a challenge at times for a moldy, cynical, sarcastic, menopausal bitch not to bite the head off of her hormonal, emo, 13 year old drama-king son (whom I love with all my heart and soul, but sometimes wish I could send to Siberia). It’s frighteningly easy to slip into misery at the sight of a dead cat or dog on the side of the road, or the sound of some entitled moron being nasty to a service person, or the seeing “F**k Obama”, “Texas Secede” or “Palin 2012” stickers every time I hit the road, on Leviathin SUV’s and trucks driven by soccer moms. It scared the living shit out of me to have my cardiologist loom up in front of me and tell me to lose 100 pounds…and refusing is not an option (I also have body dysmorphia and there’s that fear of success…). I know about wanting to curl my useless, ugly, evil, wretched, unlovable self up into bed and not move for days.
    But I don’t. Don’t ask me how I do it, because I not only don’t know, but what works for me wouldn’t necessarily work for you. I do know that other people play a part in it. I can’t be like the majority of my family, and leave a true wake of human misery and destruction wherever I go. I actually love our dysfunctional, murderous, vicious, egocentric…but o, so beautiful, and glorious and sometimes transcendent species. We fascinate me. So…I keep making a go of it…and sometimes I feel wonder, joy, rapture (no god, no angels…the living variety) and those rare moments of transcendence. I truly do believe you can do it too.
    Mr. Wow, you’re loved, and worthy of every bit of it.

    • avatar Mr. Wow says:

      Dear Briana…I am work, and I cannot cry.
      I will be home soon, and will weep that I could elicit such a response.  And dammit, after I wipe my eyes I better straighten up and fly right.
      I don’t know that I have “worlds” within me.  But at least a good neighborhood.  Or a state.  A small state.  Okay–a very nice small state. (I’m trying.)

    • avatar Baby Snooks says:

      Briana you are a jewel. As is Mr. Wow.  The world could use more of both of you. 

  9. avatar Mr. Wow says:

    As to the above…Well, what could I expect, posting about mineral makeup? 

    Although I don’t  see myself in an Ed Hardy bikini.

    • avatar Baby Snooks says:

      I was already depressed when I came home.  I am now even more depressed reading all of this. So I cannot comment because it has depressed me too much.  Maybe later.  Maybe you will get over it. Maybe I will get over it. Then I don’t need to comment.

      For the first time in my life I wish I had a “zombie pill.” Two actually. One so I wouldn’t think about my depression. Another so I wouldn’t think about yours.

      • avatar Mr. Wow says: