The Lipstick Chronicles

F the Auld Lang Syne: New Years Resos Mancini Style

F the Auld Lang Syne: New Years Resos Mancini Style

Hi.  It's Me, Margie.  I totally feel like Bette Midler on the last Johnny Carson show.  It was actually the penultimate show, just like this blog.  (Penultimate is my word of the day - we are all helping our twin cousins Petey and Patty study for the SATs - God bless them, they don't have much Mancini blood in them plus those matching outfits in high school?  Weird, just saying.  Rocco can't even talk about it.)

It's New Year's Eve, and I already told the real true story about it and here is the link in case you don't remember: 

http://thelipstickchronicles.typepad.com/the_lipstick_chronicles/2010/12/margies-story-time-new-years.html

 This year, since it's our last blog here, mia famiglia decided we should all blog.  That was our first mistake.  Because everyone wanted in on the act, like this is the freaking Golden Globes or something, and more than one of them was hammer drunk when they wrote theirs, so don't say I didn't warn you.  And I know there is usually some limit on how long these things are supposed to be, but everyone knows size doesn't matter and sometimes longer is better regardless.  These are resolutions, Mancini Style.

From Cousin Rita:

Dear Writer Ladies, So, like, Margie says the blog thing is going kaput and it's not because of anything she did with the Steves in the closet or the time the Hazmat crew came that I'm not supposed to ever talk about with anyone, ever. I'd ask Officer Steve if that was true, but the last time I crossed her she reminded me about the thing that at the place with the whozit, and that is just another way of saying, shut up now if you ever want to borrow handcuffs that, like, really work. 

But I will tell you all a secret I swore on a mountain of cannoli I'd never tell, even bigger than the Hazmat secret. Margie really likes you ladies. Like, a lot. I think she kept all the Steves around to amuse herself when you all were busy in your offices, but she could have taken the Steves to a whole bunch more comfortable places, so it had to be she liked it there. She was, like, really serious about doing a good job and showing up on time and toning down the neon eye makeup and dressing extra classy. Sometimes we'd be at a club and she'd be texting herself reminders about toner and to bring the good coffee because there was going to be a special visitor the next day. By "special visitor" I mean a writer person, not a "special visitor" like a hot guy home on leave. Sometimes she told funny stories about what you said or what you did. Okay, yeah, so a lot of times she talked about bringing the wood chipper to work, but that was just her way of expressing aggravation. 

Me, though, I'm kind of mad at all of you, becuase now Margie will have all kinds of free time on her hands, and I will have to deal with her ALL THE TIME. So thanks for nothing, Writer Ladies. But, like, speaking of thanks, you all know I love my sailors, and I like to do my bit to keep them happy when they are in the home port. And, like, I'm real excited that all the troops will be coming home soon from that war. Some of them are not in such good shape, though. Some need new jobs. They need people to remember we were here all comfy and cozy while they were fighting in that hot ass place. So I think we should help out. That might mean writing some letters to politicians, which I like so hate to do because my talents lie elsewhere.

But if it helps to write a letter to some geezer in Congress or say thank you to the soldiers at the airport, or help them any way I can, let's all do that. It doesn't matter if they are Navy, Air Force, Army, or Coast Guard, they are all The Fleet to me.   

Keep the peace and help The Fleet. 

Love,Cousin Rita  

From Cousin Rocco:

Ciao Bellas!

I am just beside myself with grief here and need a trip to South Beach just to calm my nerves.  Not that I didn't already have plans to be in the parade.  Time is short, my flight is soon, and Her, Margie says if I don't do this fast, I will end up on the cutting room floor.  As always, I think of you, my lovlies, so here are some going-away tips from me:

Your stockings should never be darker than the bottom edge of your skirt.

Knock off handbags are gauche and I can spot them a mile away.  The fake is never beautiful.

No glove, no love.

Purple is still the new black.

When in doubt, ask yourself what Elizabeth Taylor would do (unless it's about marriage, then do the opposite).

There is no excuse for roots.  If you cannot afford good color at a decent salon, go natural.  When in doubt, if you've ever seen Linsay Lohan wearing that style of hair or anything else, do the opposite.  That poor bunny is just gone.  So sad; I blame the parents. But maybe that's me - my friend Dr. Shrink says my motto should be "If it's not one thing, it's your mother."

Never say goodbye.  It ruins the makeup, you look like a racoon and there aren't enough cucumbers or tea bags in the world to fix those eyes.  

In mixed company, never use the words cucumber and teabags in the same sentence unless you are making a grocery list.  Let's remain ladies!

From Cousin Rosie:

My New Year’s Resolutions,by Cousin Rosie, who is new to this because we didn’t do this back at the convent.

1.   Buy my herbs at the Italian Market, not from Margie’s visiting delivery-men friends.  UPS Steve’s special oregano tastes great in Mama’s sauce, but honestly, I’m starting to think there’s something strange about it.  The last time I made sauce, Nonna Sophia ate a whole tray of cannoli while she watched reruns of The Lawrence Welk show.  Nothing good can come from that.

2.   Stay away from Father Carm and all the nuns at the convent.  I went back last week, just for a little visit, and honest to God, you would never think nuns could behave like that.  I don’t know what Father Carm has been telling them all, but I heard one baby nun whisper to another baby nun that I killed Sister Marilyn.  I really thought we had cleared up that nonsense a while ago, but I guess not.  Probably she’s Father Carm’s new special nun.  Whatever.  Doesn’t matter to me because my last resolution is to…

3.   Say “yes” to Anthony!  Yes, TLC people, this is the official announcement!  Last night Anthony asked me to marry him, and I told him I would give him an answer today because I needed to think about it overnight.  Really I already knew that I was going to say yes, but after the thing with Father Carm, Margie and Rocco and Rita told me to always wait 24 hours before saying yes to anything with a man with a Roman Collar, so I did.  My cousins are so smart!  Love them!

Well, TLC people, that’s all from me.  Hope you all have a happy and blessed New Year!  

Love,Cousin Rosie

From Pauletta, Guido and Lucca

Guido: Yinz asking us about resolutionance is a timely but troublesome coincidence.

Lucca: Resolutionance is all very well in books and movies, like at the end of ‘Christmas With Carol’ when Mr. Scrooch gives back the money he made from the three-card-monte stand outside his office.

Guido: Real world, it’s different.

Lucca: So while we wish yinz all well, nothin’ but the best, what’s done is done.

Guido: So what if it was youses? Now it’s ours. No give-back.

Lucca: No resolutionance.

Pauletta: Whattahell yinz two idjits talkin’ about? I think you confused ‘resolution’ with ‘restitution.’ Restitution, that’s the word for giving back what you shouldna took.

Lucca: OK, then, you so smart, what’s a resolution?

Pauletta: You promise youself you either gonna do something that’s better, or you resolve you gonna stop doin’ somethin’ worser.

Guido: We can do dat. Not hard. In fact, easy.

Lucca: Hunh??

Guido: Yeah. We resolve to not do no restitutionance.

Lucca: Oh. Yeah. ‘Cuz it never works out.

Guido: No, never. We just have to rob you again.

Pauletta: Gramma made me promise to watch outtfah yinz, or I’d be so gone to junior college . . .

And finally, from Me, Margie:

Forget the Auld Lang Syne crap.  Nobody even knows what that means.  What you really need to remember is that love can kick the hell out of hate.  Plus, hate is easy and love is hard.  Hopefully. Just saying.

Tell people you love them because you never know if it's the last time you will see them.  They could get hit by a bus or by Lucca.  It happens.

Remember the letter F: Family, Friends, Food, Fun and other F'y things.  All good.  You should do them all every day.  But not at the same time.  Or on camera.

Try everything once.  Otherwise, you could be missing out on what turns out to be your favorite (there is another F word, too).

Find time for stories (do you see how I keep using the letter F?  That's called sumbliminal massaging).  You can tell stories or read stories or pass along stories or buy stories in books.  Stories are made of words and words are important.  Some people say there are really no 'bad' words.  Maybe, but if you use certain words in front of me or my cousins, you are going to have a hard time sounding them out around all that wire.  Be nice.

So I guess this is it.  Thanks to all the Steves who helped us pack up and move everything from the, uh, storage area and into our new space, which is still under construction.  It's going to be fan-fucking-tastic because now we don't have to hide everything except for in that one room with the serious security system.  The Mancinis will be back!

Now say something nice and tell everyone your resolutions and don't drink and drive tonight.

 

 

Worst Gifts Ever: A Mancini Cousins Gift Guide

Worst Gifts Ever: A Mancini Cousins Gift Guide

By Me, Margie, and my Cugini: Rocco, Rita and Rosie, plus a nice suggestion from the Gooch Brothers too

We Mancinis are a very inclusive type people and so we are starting out by saying Happy Hanukkah to our Chosen Friends.  If you think you know about Hanukkah, you might be surprised - for the real scoop check out a previous edition of Margie's Story Time: Margie's Hanukkah Story

We have done Gift Guides in the past (here is the link because some of you are totally too BUSY to even check the Archives, which have some of my best work just saying: Margie's Holiday Gift Guide 2006).

This year, we decided to get together over some nice Grappa and do a list of WHAT NOT TO BUY.  For any man who is still confused, there will be a video at the end to, uh, drive the point home.

What NOT to buy for Nuns, Priests or ex-ones.  These came from Rosie, and she would know.  

Black Patent Leather anything.  Because it really does reflect up and no one needs to deal with that kind of trauma.

The Thorn Birds.  Seriously.  Not because it's a bad gift but because every one of them already owns it in both VCR and DVD.  

Tickets to an Adam Lambert Concert - or even a DVD.  Too much for people who don't have cable or unfiltered Internet access.  

What NOT to buy for men.  We all chimed in on this one.  Rocco says if your man needs some help with his personal grooming habits, get him a spa certificate and let the pros, uh, handle it.  These kinds of things just give most guys a complex which they already have plenty of thankyouverymuch:

 A Back Razor.  Sure, the dude is a walking Sasquatch.  You think he don't know that? Don't make the guy open this in front of people.  Remember the golden rule of gifts: Have some class; don't be an ass.

 Package Enhancers.  Do we need to spell this one out?  Even Harry the Hamster doesn't want someone else telling him to pump up the volume.  And don't think you're fooling anyone buying the poor shmoe something in the produce section. We've all seen Spinal Tap.  Duh.

Books on How to do Better Sex Stuff.  Every man thinks he is a Mattress Magician. Could he use some basic advice?  Maybe a book like "The Clitourist"? Sure.  But not in front of his family or his friends.  'Cause there ain't enough Cialis in the world to get a guy over that kind of smack-down. If he needs tips, do what people have been doing since the beginning of time: get him half drunk first, and then, in private, show him some simple diagrams or do a little demo.  In our collective experience, we find the last option is more fun for everyone.  

 What NOT to buy for women.  Years of Mancini experience here, so pay attention.  If you are dating a woman, do NOT try to buy her lingerie.  Especially the kind that has some cute saying on it - like these from "Smart Ass".  That's the kind of gift girls get for eachother when they have their holiday sex toy parties.  What Rosie?  Not everyone has those?  Get out-a-town!

 Anything that suggests - even in the most subtle way - that you don't like something about her body.  One time, one of the Spinelli boys gave a girl a gift cert to Weight Watchers.  He had to leave the state. Also - if she wants to holiday-up the lady parts, that's her call, not yours.  Show up with a Holiday Betty kit and you may wake up from a blunt force head trauma with your own festive undercarriage.  Capisce?  Or - take a lesson from the time Petey Pugliese wrapped up some Breast Enlargement Cream for one of the Tortelli girls. Not cool, especially since she's got brothers with unibrows. I hear it took months to get that stuff completely though Petey's intestinal system.  I guess when stuff goes in the wrong way it doesn't make a U-Turn so easy.  Just sayin'.

Anything for your own penis.  Sure, those condoms in the shape of snowmen look hilarious, but those colors ain't like the ones on our flag, if you get my drift.  And yeah, we all saw SNL's Dick in a Box, but unless you're JT, that won't fly.  Ditto for any and all Wang Wear.

And no household appliances or power tools masquerading as gifts.  That's a good way to end up spending part of the holidays in the E.R.

 What NOT to buy for stupid people.  Don't EVEN  pretend you don't know what we're talking about.  Every family has them.  Maybe they're not so easy to spot, like the Tortelli Twins, who still wear matching bowling shirts.  Nothin' wrong with dumb people - they balance things out and not everyone can be total geniuii like us, right?  But use your head, and don't give them something that, when you mix it with their moronicness, could become a public hazard.  Like, steer clear of the Laptop Driving Wheel Desk.  We did not make this thing up.  For realz.

 Or the Beverage Belt.  Face it - these mooks  have enough trouble figuring out how many beers is too many.  You don't give them the tools to make sure it happens. 

 You also want to stay away from guns and ammo for this particular group.  For example, the Gooch brothers recommend the back-up gun rack for every bed.  Because a handgun will fit under the pillow all right, but anything bigger can poke your sweetie in the face, and not in a good way, which is not condusive to other night-time type activities and so forth.  Ammo is usually a fine gift too - I mean, it's like savoiardi - you can never have too much on hand.  But don't buy these things for the less coordinated of the family.  The sad truth is that you just can't get those kinds of wounds fixed on the quiet so easy no more.

 One more just for fun.  Never - EVER - buy something for anyone in a house with only one bathroom that is anything like this Fishing Game.  First off, you should get your cousin the plumber to put in another bathroom.  And be smart about it - use copper.  Second, certain people who will remain nameless for our own protection already spend way too much time in the bathroom and this kind of thing just encourages them.

We hope this helps you with your shopping.  And in case you didn't get the total message, here is a nice video in the spirit of the season that should help.

Now it's your turn to help your fellow man and woman: what are your worst gifts ever?

Cousin Rosie Confesses. Sort of.

Cousin Rosie Confesses.  Sort of. 

    Bless me, Margie, for I have sinned.

    Let me just start by saying that I didn’t kill Sister Marilyn, no matter what you might have heard down at the convent.  Not that any of you Mancinis have been hanging out with the nuns (God knows), but still, people talk.  Like the Sunday morning at church when Mrs. Ricci from down the street told old Mrs. LaQuatra that she heard from Mrs. DeLuca, who heard from Mrs. Giordano, that Mrs. LaQuatra’s daughter, Angela, looked like she was having a good time the night before in the last row of the movie theatre with that Nicky Socio boy, and before you could say “Agnus Dei” Angela got shipped off to the convent…

    Oh, wait.

    Right, so anyway, like I was saying.  Sister Marilyn.  I was just over at the rectory having dinner with Father Carm, who is a total Father What-a-Waste, by the way, and we were watching The Thorn Birds, when Sister Marilyn came running over to get Father Carm to break up a fight down at the Bingo game in the Church basement between Joey Romano and Joey Gallo.  She was so worked up about Joey Gallo throwing Mrs. Costa’s rum cake in Joey Romano’s face that before you could say “Drogheda” she just had a stroke and dropped dead right there.  There was nothing any of us could have done.  Honestly.   I’m pretty sure it was Sister Lucy who started the rumor about Sister Marilyn dropping dead from the shock of seeing something going on between me and Father Carm.  Sister Lucy is such a tattle-tale.  Father Carm said it was my own fault for not hiding the jug of communion wine before the cavalry arrived.

    So, now that I’m “out”, this fallen nun thing kinda has its ups and downs.  Mama doesn’t stop with the rosary of course – I thought it was bad when I was a fallen woman going into the convent, it’s 100 times worse being a fallen nun getting thrown out of one.   Some people have been nice, like that nice Steve, the UPS guy you introduced me to, who has been giving me great herbs for my marinara sauce every day, but some people have just been trying to take advantage of a fallen nun.  Like, how you and Cousin Rita have been trying to get me to e-date.  So far every single one of the men have written to me that their favorite book is The DaVinci Code.  Now, I may have been in a convent for ten years, (and without HBO as you like to say), but even I can see through that one.  

    But the best part of being out is that last week down at the deli I ran into little Anthony Marino who was in my class at St. Theresa’s and let me tell you, he’s not so little anymore.  You remember Anthony, right?   Mama might have told you about him.  He was the one who used to pull my pigtails all the time and he was the one who snuck into my locker during swimming class in third grade and stole my underpants and so I had to go back to class wearing a pair of gym shorts from the lost-and-found under my uniform and everyone knew I didn’t have any underwear on and I was so embarrassed.   You probably wouldn’t have been embarrassed by it though.  You and Rita were fast even back in the third grade.

    Oh, right, well, anyway, I was getting some capicolla and Anthony was getting some sopressata and then we both went over to the cheese counter and before you could say “fontinella,” I had a date.

    So, last night, we went out.  We went to my favorite restaurant, Alexander’s, we had peppers and sausage and fried ravioli and a great bottle of Chianti - it’s really so much better than communion wine.   It turns out that Anthony was in the seminary for a while, but he left before taking his final vows because it wasn’t for him.  After dinner, we took a little walk, and we ended up back at the Book Tart office… Rita told me where the key was hidden last week and  I didn’t think the authors would mind.

    There is one tiny little thing though, Margie.  

    I hope you get to work early today, like before any of the authors do.

    I seem to be missing my underpants again.

NOTE FROM ME, MARGIE:

Thanks for being nice to my cousins.  Not that you would be in, like, any danger if you weren't just because my other cousins are checking up on things.  Just saying. Miz Nancy is back on her feet and will blog here tomorrow since Miz Kathy is sick.  Everybody has an excuse around here for missing tons of work, but if I happen to take a long brunch or something, it's like a catastrophe with these women.  Stay tuned for more from the Mancini Family in future blogs!

    

    

The Rita Rules

The Rita Rules by Cousin Rita

So, it’s like midnight, and Margie calls.

Margie: Rita-baby! Guess where I am? (Blank Blank)! But don’t tell anybody (That’s why I wrote Blank, Blank, get it?) cause Steve’s on special assignment, and it’s a big-ass secret, but 45 seconds with my special feather and (blah blah blah, I can’t remember since it’s midnight and all) seen his face when I sashayed into First Class. Makes me glad I earned all those frequent flyer miles visiting Cousin Mitchell in that clinic in Vegas when he had his little problem, ha ha ha.   

Me: Um, okay, have fun, bye.

Margie:  Wait! So I need you do to The Favor again, and this time if the Author Ladies call and say you don’t sound like me, just tell them the TV station’s weather helicopter is hovering over the building. 

Me: Um, okay, have fun, bye.

Margie:  Wait! Don’t forget to put the office key back. Steve says nobody in real life is stupid enough to hide a key under a mat, so it’s the perfect hiding spot. And try not to use the Internet for, you know, anything. And if UPS Steve comes by, tell him I went to visit Cousin Mitchell again, ha ha ha. 

 Me: Um, okay, have fun, bye.

She started to say some stuff about her new boots and what do I think about berets, but I had to go because by then, my sailor friend Clint was up (not that way….okay, not ONLY that way). I told Clint I was going to be Margie for a Day. After he quit laughing, he asked why wasn’t I mad about the middle of the night phone call? So I explained how a Cousin-on-Vacation call is different from an I’m-in-a-Hooters-in-Hong-Kong call and then one thing led to another (not that way…okay, not ONLY that way), and then he said he never met Cousin Mitchell but weren’t we all nice to keep visiting him, and I said there really is no Cousin Mitchell (like a Mancini would ever name a kid Mitchell), and when we say we’re visiting Cousin Mitchell we really mean…uh…uh… 

And then I had to distract him, (not that way…oh, never mind) so I told him one of my Rita Rules. And since Margie locked the supply closet and I can’t take a nap on the futon in there, I’ll share. Just don’t tell her I used the Internet, ‘k?

Rita Rule #1, regarding Emergency Midnight Phone Calls: 

By emergency, I don’t mean a flat tire, because do I look like I change tires? Or if you run out of money at a club, because do I look like an ATM? Or if you run out of “supplies,” because do I look like….a “supply” delivery person? Bail money is off the table, too, because we had a family meeting, and Nonny says the well is bone dry after that little misunderstanding about the G-strings at the G-20. 

Anyway, one girl’s emergency is another girl’s life lesson. So, if you call and wake up Rita, it better be for something that requires a Cousin. Like:

Bad Date: By bad, I don’t mean boring. I’m talking, like, you’re on a first date, and the guy seems hot and normal-- and then he uses a coupon to pay for drinks. Two-for-one-Margaritas does not tell Rita that you are a financial wizard. It tells Rita that soon after the wedding, Coupon Man will try to convince you that home highlights are just as good as salon highlights, and then we’ll all be trucking to the hospital to visit Rocco after his aneurysm. I will save your ass from this loser. Worse, if he tries this cheapskate stunt at dinner, I will save your ass and buy you dinner myself. 

Painful Discoveries: Bunions or an inch-long hair attached to your face do not count. I mean Other Woman. Call me before you touch any sharp objects. And yes, a cell phone with the Other Woman’s number on it is a sharp object. 

Breakups: Anytime, day or night, because men are dogs. And pigs. I don’t really believe that, but I promise to say it over and over while I deliver chocolate and booze and we rip into the fool who tossed away the best thing that ever happened to him, which he did because he is a dog. And a pig. 

Fading Beer Goggles: Self-explanatory.

The Stick Turned Pink. Or Blue: I forget which one is the bad color, but I will deliver six new tests and a bottle of Gatorade. Because those tests are not 100% reliable, and a mother-to-be needs her Electrolytes. 

You’re at the Little Chapel of Love: I am there. With reinforcements. (You paying attention, Rosie?)

You’re at the Little Chapel of Love with Nicky Socio: I am there, with reinforcements and a SWAT team. Ask Rosie if you don’t believe me.

That is Rita Rule #1. And since I know the people here love to backtalk, you can tell me your own rules, because I keep adding to mine. For instance, here’s a new one I just thought of: 

Rita Rule #2 – Never Date Two Guys Named Steve At the Same Time Because It Is Just Too Damn Confusing…Margie.

Love,

Cousin Rita

Fresh Fall Beauty Tips from Rocco

Fresh Fall Beauty Tips from Rocco

Ciao Bellas! I am so excited to be part of Mancini Month!  Today we're talking tips on staying fresh this fall - from top to bottom.  If we have time, we'll get to feet.

Fall means cooler temps and drier air.  Add that to our flu-minded hand washing every five secs, and you may have a clear nose and throat, but your hands will be a mess and a half!  Priorities, dearest, I know, but good health need not mean bad looks.  I pick up most of my tricks from the Salon, but my latest treat, Mike the Mechanic, is the source of my newest.  Mike has very rough hands - mmmmm- but they still look fabulous.  Why? Moisturizer!  Did you know they make antibacterial lotions with lots of soothing lotion?  They do.  For industrial strength, check medical supplies.  For fabo scent, check Bath & Body Works or Ulta - most come in travel sizes too - I won't visit a store or restaurant without them!  Remember - kill germs, not your hands.

What's the body's biggest organ?  Trick questions - it's your skin, silly! Remember that you need to take care of all your skin just like you take care of your face.  Exfoliate, Cleanse, Tone and Moisturize.  Here's what not to do to your face - or to any part of your lovely skin.  Do. Not. Pick.  You'll just make it worse.  Get a facial or do a mini at home. Use a spot treatment.  Otherwise, no cover cream on this earth is going to hide the archeological dig you did on that little red bump on your forehead.

Let's talk hair.  Dry, cold air is hard on the scalp and with the extra clothes, static is havoc!  Now is the time to quit over-processing your hair, if you're still doing so.  Colors this year are softer and warmer - chestnuts and russets, taupes and sands are in and harsh blacks and blondes are out.  Unless your hair is long enough to up-do in different styles, go for a shorter, layered cut that works with hats and bounces back from weather.  And remember - just like your hands, your hair needs more moisture this time of year.  Most people need not shampoo every day, especially in the winter.

Speaking of hair - listen up, lovies.  Long hair can be very glam, but if all you do is pull it back all the time, cut it off.  Unless, of course, you are an Audrey Hepburn double, with the swan neck and the cheek bones to carry it off.  Also - and please don't make me repeat this, my doves -- I don't know who bought the truckload of banana clips before they made their (long overdue) exit in the late '80s -- but for the love of L'Oreal, they must be destroyed. Next time I see one, the wearer is going to lose some hair with the clip.  Scrunchies are a close second.  I will grant an exemption for the pool, or if you are too young to vote.  Perhaps in a bed head emergency, but only in a subtle color that matches your own hair color.  Darlings - we must make this work!

Now let's get personal.  Heavier clothes and more time inside can lead to some personal hygiene issues.  Or as Mike puts it, buildup on the undercarriage.  We're all adults here so let's just talk about it instead of pretending it doesn't happen.  Just because you can't, um, sense the problem doesn't mean others do not.  We all wish we could carry a portable shower, but that's not real.  I, for one, dream of a day when cars come with the bidet option.  Until then - fret not - just pick up some personal cleansing cloths.  Yes, I know, you gentlemen may need to stop in the feminine products aisle.  Get over yourself.  These towlettes should be your constant companion, especially in public bathrooms.  Need I say it, sweetie? The TP is getting so thin that you can use two squares as a lens covers for soft shots.  Don't pretend you don't know what I mean.  Cautionary note:  easy on the wipes if you recently bleached.  Enough said.

Which brings me to my Fall list of Freshness Must-Haves - all of these will fit in a small cosmetic pouch/shaving kit that should travel with you everywhere.  I keep an extra set in the car, just in case.  One does like to be prepared for an impromptu sleepover or long weekend.

•  Mirror (can't fix what you can't see)
• Tweezers - so many uses
• Personal wipes (in case you forgot from two paragraphs ago)
• Travel toothbrush and toothpaste
• Travel size deoderant
• Mints - there is no such thing as too strong
• Powder*
• Moisturizer - all kinds for all places if necessary
• Protection of all kinds.  And not just gloves. 

*Powder is fabulous.  This is THE beauty tip of the year, bellas, so listen up. I discovered this on an unexpected camping trip with no real plumbing. Used right, it can freshen hair, feet, and other areas.  They make special powder for hair.  I like the Bumble & Bumble - it comes in different colors. Talk about magic in a bottle! It can help de-grease oily or dirty hair, plus remove smells like smoke or that bar smell - you know the one I mean. Running late or just need a pick-me-up for dreary hair?  - LOVING it!  If you don't have special hair powder, you can use baby powder, just use it sparingly.  Lift up sections of hair and put a small amount of powder at the root, then brush it through.  Viola!  

And now I have to stop because Margie says I used too many words.  She can be such a crab cake.  Have some tips for the rest of us?  Spill, darling.