A ton of gold on the runway probably says something profound about the state of the economy. I couldn’t say, because I was blinded by the light.
Why did I let Midas help me on with my coat…again?
Oh, honey, you didn’t go home with Midas! We talked about his materialism!
And don’t think we can’t see what’s under there!
You like it? It’s a Midas. It’s hot…as long as you avoid anything magnetized.
This was black. I crashed into Midas on line for concessions. Whatever, it works.
Gold: check. Brocade: check. Fur: check. Why do I feel so drab?
Guess who has two thumbs, a Sergeant Pepper costume and doesn’t give Midas the time of day? This girl.
Where’s Midas?
[Images via Getty.]
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Still here. Still without airbrushing. Still with teeth.
