The miracle of makeup

These pictures make it painfully obvious what a little foundation can do, but I have “straight from the shower into the underpants into the car” genes. I can’t help the way I was born. I also missed the shopping and shoes DNA. I am going to go ahead and start the rumor that my exquisite-looking sister Margaret probably has a different father.

4 Thoughts on “The miracle of makeup

  1. Marg, for this post to work I think I need a more glamorous picture of you than the one provided (you’re drinking beer, staring longingly at a cake, and your posture is only so-so). Please send me a more fabulous shot.

  2. the sister on October 25, 2007 at 1:05 am said:

    “That cake looks awesome. Wait, are they singing to me right now? I’m going to stand here and look at this cake while I pretend that no one is watching me. Maybe I’ll wish for a new bicycle. Scratch that, too cliche. God, I’m still really hungover. The scavenger hunt last night was a bad idea. I can’t wait to eat that cake. Maybe I’ll sleep in tomorrow. Oh wait…I’m leaving to drive across the country at 7am, so I guess that doesn’t really fit in to my schedule. Mmmm. Cake.”

    I promise to get you a better picture soon. And by better one I mean one of me dressed like KISS from Halloween last year. Kosher?

  3. Wistar. Sweetie. What have I told you about blogging seven times in one day? It’s just not healthy. Anyway, you need to save up your verbiage for NaNoWriMo, or as it will be known in the future, The Month Sri Pwned You All. In the future, “pwned” will replace “owned” in Webster’s.

  4. Well, there are some real hatchet faces on there, and the makeup helps them on their weddings, poor dears, but for the decent-looking girls I kept thinking “Now she just looks like a person with a lot of makeup on… God I want to get some Glamour Shots done.”
    I heard Margo got them when she was little. True? Wonderful.

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