I had a show tonight, and as usual, I was running through my material in my car before the show. I was driving with one hand, and I went to rub my chin with my left hand.
To my horror, I came across two errant hairs.
Thank God I was parked, because I totally freaked out.
So, I’m frantically looking through the car for tweezers that I know I don’t keep in my car. I’ve never kept tweezers in my car.
I tried to make some tweezers out of cardboard in my car—like a shitty McGyver. That show was stupid, anyway. And, I’m no McGyver.
But, I am a smoker.
And, I do know that they’ll burn off… So, I looked at my lighter, I looked in the mirror at the offending hairs. I looked at the lighter. I felt the hairs.
I did it.
I burned those fuckers off my chin.
I’m pretty scorched, but I have powder in my bag, so I just covered over it.
That’s how much I love this business. Also, it’s a testament to my overwhelming vanity.
And, as a bonus, my face smells vaguely of bacon.
I'm Jane Malone.