On the Q

I am trying to put foundation on. I am smearing it all over my face. The make-up artist comes in and says that at least it was good that I added moisturizer to it. He starts to make me up and covers a pimple I have perfectly - you can't see it at all. MM is there looking at dresses.

Cars are parked in strange places in the garage. I don't know how anyone gets out of their spots. They are parked like checkers on a checkerboard. A woman is moving tons of paint cans back and forth. I am sitting on the hood of a car watching her and realize I should offer to help. When I start to help I find all kinds of things in the pile that I can use -- good colors and bottles of cool things.

I am on the Q train - the elevated part. First I am inside then I am standing on the tracks. I am looking at a newspaper and I notice that someone has rearranged the letters and replaced the images. When the train goes by the wind rips the paper out of my hands and I watch it fly over the phone lines.