Makeover Madness I’m working on fixing up the basement apartment in my house these days so I can get it rented out. →[More:]I think if I’m to be a landlady I will need a makeover. I’ll have to go about in housedresses and worn out fuzzy slippers, with my stockings in rolls around my ankles, and stop shaving my legs. I’ll wear my hair in curlers with a chiffon scarf tied around it, though curlers will fall out everywhere anyway, along with my teeth. My boobs will have to meld into my stomach. I’ll wear blue eyeshadow and fuchsia lipstick, and a cigarette will perpetually hang out of the side of my mouth. I’ll have to change my diction and personality, and say things like, “Whaddya want?” and “Jaysus, is the crapper clogged up again? Whaddya eat for breakfast, a bale of hay?” and “Didja see any of my knickers in the laundry room? They been disappearing on me.”

Hmm. It might be simpler just to be a landlord, which would merely involve my growing some back hair and buying a toolbelt.