Santa Monica, 1941
Anne, left: “Don’t you just love my new tattoo supporting our men in the military? Isn’t it just dreamy?”
Helen, middle: “I’ve got one, too! Nothing says eternal love like ink on skin.”
Evelyn, right: “Wait, I think I missed a memo. Who said anything about tattoos? I thought we were just supposed to pose in bathing suits and give off a slightly-lesbian vibe because all the men are overseas and you have to seek comfort where you can find it.”
Anne: “Lesbian? Doesn’t that word mean actors?”
Helen: “Silly girl, that word is thespian. I think we’re talking about something else here. Care to share, Evelyn?”
Evelyn: “I don’t think I need to share anything, especially since nobody shared anything with me about getting a damn tattoo for this photo shoot.”
Anne: “Why are you so bitter? And why are you reaching toward Helen like you want to claw her arm off? Did you have an unhappy childhood? Helen, don’t let her hurt you. I don’t care if she has more screen credits than we do, it’s just not right.”
Helen: “Well, I’m not really fond of being clawed, but I’m not sure what’s going on here. This is a situation that was never discussed at Saint Bernadette’s Modeling School for Unfocused Women. Can’t I just smile and hope that Paramount offers me a contract?”
Evelyn: “Both of you are fools. If you want to succeed in this business, you have to be realistic about what is expected of you and what type of client-base you are trying to reach. It’s Marketing 101.”
Anne: “I think you’re kind of snooty. And how is your swimsuit realistic, with all that Aztec crap going on? Didn’t Jesus kill the Aztecs because they didn’t believe in him?”
Helen: “Yeah. I don’t care if you’ve been in more movies than me. Everybody knows that you only get top billing if you can straddle things without causing too much of a fuss. I think I’ve got the part. This plastic horse is very happy, if you must know.”
Evelyn, sighing: “This planet is no longer safe with people like you on it.”
Planet, lower right: “Oh, please. Those two idiots are harmless. I’m more concerned about the fact that Donald Trump will be born five years from now and he’s already lying about climate change and his accomplishments.”
Originally published in “Crusty Pie” on 11/02/16. Modified slightly for this post. Completely useless trivia: Actress Anne Gwynne is the grandmother of actor Chris Pine. If you don’t know who that is, then reading this far in the post was probably not worth your time. Cheers.
Categories: Past Imperfect
Bonnywood Manor 
I’m lacking something substantial in my education, because I’ve never heard of any of those women. Course I was born five (koff koff plausible deniability koff koff) decades AFTER any of them, and I think one or more was dead by the time I made my debut. And it’s not all about me, is it? Ummm. Blame it on the moon and the fact (which shall be bleated about shortly) that I got to bed at 3 a.m. I think the chesty woman on the right (who got bigger roles, didn’t she? It’s still all about the girls..) is trying to correct the atrocious spelling on the arm of that rather carpenter’s dream in the middle. And both probably frenemied the one on the left. Because either she has better foundation garments under her suit OR she’s challenged in the chest balls arena….
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..ooops. Forgot to mention those creepy ‘owl eye’ umbrellas. No wonder those women banded together. Somebody’s watching them..
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Oh, don’t worry about not knowing any of these actresses. I had to do a Google search before I was enlightened in any way, and even then I was still mostly in the dark. (Mea culpa to all my classic-movie friends who instantly identified the participants. I’d love to have your skill, but I don’t.)
As for getting to bed, and I’m sure we’ve discussed this, I rarely get to bed before 3 a.m. This probably explains why I would find a photo such as this and be inspired to create a story around it, even though no one asked me to do so.
And of course the chesty woman got the bigger roles. That’s how Trump was elected…
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Just love the whole “point the feet” sitting postion – no-one actually sits like that – or am I missing something? Wold this feet pointed style make me look slim and youthful (I dare not say again)? Mmm, don’tt think my purple cast will let me point my foot at this time, may have to try it in 3 weeks.
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Well, then, we’ll just have to wait for the purple cast to be tossed asunder, and then you can do some research on the benefits of pointy sitting. Then you can take a picture of your results and I can write a short story about the picture. The circle of life…
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…is a circle 🙂
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I’m waiting for Helen to ride into the sunset.
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Aren’t we all?
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Anne: I may not know a lesbian from a can of paint, but I’m going to have a grandson who’s going to do an impression of one of the worst actors of all time and be more successful at it by being more James than James … Which I’m not sure what that means exactly but at least he doesn’t have to put his feet in a very uncomfortable position causing cramps and hammer toes. But he does have to worry about Dr Dick Tiny and His Amazing Technicolour Hallucination. Too bad. Can’t have it all. Sigh.
😉
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Once again you have nailed the current state of political affairs in America with uncanny precision. Perhaps someday the Amazing Technicolor Hallucination will lift, but that would require the electorate to have some degree of education, and that ship has probably sailed forever…
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Yes, must agree with Melanie B Cee about them umbrellas, There’s something very Freudean about them. Very shady.. Perhaps the set designer might find some jumbo pasties to slap on ’em?
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Very shady, indeed. But the set designer is not going to let loose of his jumbo pasties without just cause, so we’ll probably end up in another government shut-down…
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Yes, sadly anything is possible in El Presidente’s weird and wonderful wall-eyed view. Perhaps a couple of pasties over his mouth might help? Anything to shut him up and avoid another shut-down.
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The only thing that will ever shut him up is solitary confinement in a penitentiary. And even then he’ll still be his own best friend…
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