November 11, 2003 - 6:02 p.m.
we had joy, we had fun...
ok, no really, we did have fun.
in itself, that tackle box full of make-up is an endless source of amusement, but if i may ask, who does your makeup dahling? you looked so perty in your blue eyeshadow, hot pink cheeks and cherry red lipstick. stunning really. Not to be outdone by the wonderful revenge you took on my face, black lipliner and all.... the pale lipstick was a nice touch. how did we become so glamourous? look A) six year old dance recital catastrophe, look B) someone's grandma, look C) high fashion from the trailer park, look D) a garden gnome. We'll have to go out sometime like that. how divine.
But all the while i had the feeling that maybe i'll end up looking like this if the wrong person at the funeral home gets ahold of me before my viewing. C�st pour ca that the smart guys choose...cremation! The last thing i need once i'm dead is to have someone else pick out my clothes and butcher my face. I do fine on my own. WHen i'm dead the body can go too. I'll just float around the room and give people creepy kisses on the forehead. i think that it's far too eerie to have open caskets, who wants to see someone for the last time as a cadaver? I'd rather remember that night you let me do your makeup and then you did mine, and we rolled around on our backs laughing at the result. time for a change... so I insert this here... so i don't forget to love the quote: she says, "if i was in love with a man , I'd like him to see me fucking another guy,...to show him how i am when he fucks me. Because when you're screwing, you never really have a chance to look and it all whizzes past your eyes. But if he saw me...he'd remember how i was, stuff I did, and that would send him right over the top". - Chimo
