Nov. 1981. Dear diary: You know, I've got a lot more going for me than many other people. I'm very smart, I'm NOT ugly, I'm not shy, I'm not a social outcast, I'm not fat, I've got nice hands, a pretty class ring, a nice house, expensive stereo, leniant rules, straight teeth, thick hair, and a good voice.
Given that it’s Sunday and I’ve already finished preaching my sermon and all, I thought this might be a perfect time to round up all the stupid lipstick pictures I’ve taken, so we can see them all in one setting. Sitting. Whatever.
As you know, and have discussed with your families ad nauseam, I purchased a huge collection of Clinique Chubby Sticks last month, a purchase that was unnecessary and yet has provided all of us with hours of enjoyment.
“Mom, do we HAVE to all gather around and look at June’s daily lipstick picture?”
“Yes, Jeshosephat. It’s a crucial part of your book-learnin’.”
I took a photo of me with every color, I think, and here they all are. I think.
So there it is, and probably later today you’ll say, man. I wish I could look at more pictures of June’s fucking face.
You need only turn back here.
Anyway, which do you prefer? Most of them are barely really a color. I think perhaps I prefer Pudgy Peony. Possibly.