Trying to get you people to answer a simple question is like herding cats. Green or blue? "Well, June, in 1987 I decided to stop believing in colors, so I surgically had that part of my brain removed and now I see only black and white."
GREEN OR BLUE?
"Are we talking about penises, June?"
Anyway, I did not count because I'd have had to slog through your "I don't believe in color" answers, but I think it's pretty obvious that Whopper won. Which is WRONG, by the way. WRONG. If Fonzie were here, he'd be able to pronounce the word this time. WRONG.
In other news, I hate my mascara. Not that long ago, Marvin sent me a picture of me sitting on the toilet in our old apartment in LA, and behind me is the etigerre that goes around the toilet. Rather than being appalled that Marvin even HAS such a picture, I took a gander at the cosmetics and other grooming items on said etigerre. Not one thing on there was from a drug or grocery store. They were all fancy boutique or salon-bought items. God, I miss having money.
The point is, now I have to buy my mascara at the grocery store, and I don't wanna hear that this is a First World problem because it SO ISN'T, and the other day I went for that gold L'Oreal tube of mascara that looks like a telescope. Maybe it's mascara for people who're going to stalk someone. Maybe it's mascara for Dudly Moore in 10. Maybe it's Maybelline.
What matters is I knew I'd owned this kind before, but what I could NOT remember is if I loved it or hated it. Perhaps the part where I NO LONGER OWNED ANY OF IT coulda tipped me off, but no. Into my shopping cart it went.
It won't come off. Dudes, I'm serious. I use that Clinique eye makeup remover? And then I get in the shower and wash my face? When I dry off, I leave a Shroud of Turin of my mascara on the towel every day. I use MORE eye makeup remover. It doesn't matter. It's the Everlasting Gobstopper of mascara. It's the mascara that won't quit. If it were Lionel Ritchie, it'd go all night long.
(c) Ned, who made a Lionel Ritchie "all night long" joke last night, which I am clearly being influenced by.
Oh, and you're welcome, for putting that song in your head. No, really. Any time. Because the time has come. To raise the roof and have some fun.
I guess I'd better go tuck my burnt-orange shirt into my leather pants, and also mush down my afro mullet and head to work. Talk at you later.
Oh, and you're still wrong about the Whopper.