I started out to write about something that was irritating me and I found out that I was a lot more irritated than I thought. So, what started out to be a single blog got so long and unwieldy (around 13 pages) that I decided to make it a  seven-part series–like I said, I was irritated. This is the first installment, sure to be read by at least myself and, maybe if I make it worth her while, my sister. So, here it is.

Back in the Saddle Again:  A Dating Refresher Course

Every so often people get refresher courses. Professionally, we acknowledge that seldom-used skills can get rusty or that newer, better practices arise. Medical people pass boards and take continuing education classes, as do a variety of professionals like firefighters, bartenders, accountants, and teachers. Even if it is your heart’s desire to handle hazardous waste you need to maintain hazmat certification. But no one ever gets basic training, let alone refresher courses, for dating.

And yet, as a vital public service, there really should be. The percentages are catching up with all those who were oh so convinced that they had found the loves of their lives just in the nick of time for college graduation (yeah, how ‘bout that) and they are reentering the single scene and fucking things up. Out of the game and all messed up they are wading back into the mire, trying to date again only to find that they have no idea what they are doing anymore, if they ever did. Apparently, what works when everyone is under the gun to partner up before the music at the end of college stops, isn’t necessarily what works for the 20-10 crowd.

So, for the safety and peace of mind of the dating populace suffering this alien invasion, it seems only right that there be some basic guidelines for the whole messy process and those who find themselves back in the dating pool brush up on said techniques. Here are a few things I think should be on the list.

Refresh Yourself–Part 1:  People Don’t Change

Much as we might like to think it is possible, and, in theory, it is possible, it just isn’t likely that people will change. Why? Because we do the things we do for a reason. Smart things, dumb things, innocuous things, we do them all for a reason. For example, people don’t generally wake up one day and say, “The weather is unusually warm for October and I am going to cheat on my spouse.” More than likely a cheater has established a pattern of disrespect and cheating so they can feel powerful or validated or the thrill of danger or get even with a parent or some such crap. No, we don’t tend to jump headlong into things, we tend to tip-toe into things, practicing our behaviors from our earliest years, good and bad, in small things, preparing ourselves for bigger things.

No matter what we think or say, there is no reason to believe we will change our behaviors while they meet our needs. Regardless of how valid, invalid, brilliant, bone-headed, rational, irrational, awesome, dumb-ass, high-minded, or base the reasoning behind our behavior is we are doing it for a reason. We do it, whatever it is, to meet our driving emotional needs.

This is why it’s dumb to think you’re going to change someone and turn that unfortunate individual into the person you want them to be. Nope, pay attention to the signs and go into things with your eyes open or get the hell out of there. Women, a guy who is rude or off-hand or violent with you when you start dating, when he’s supposed to be wooing you, is not going to improve when he gets comfortable and lets himself go. Men, if you are interested in a woman who needs to have a harem of guys constantly traipsing after her and vying for her or lies to you or is cruel to you, then I hope you like being a submissive because she is always going to be the dominant—might want to get a pair of ass-less chaps and a ball-gag to go with that life choice.

But the same goes for the good stuff. People who have character development, integrity, and generosity, treat those around them well, value family, and tell the truth even when they don’t have to, that doesn’t change either. This is why it’s a good idea to watch how a person you are interested in treats those whose opinion they don’t care about. As humorist Dave Barry says, “A person who is nice to you and mean to the waiter is not a nice person.”

Thanks for reading this installment, stay tuned for Part 2, a tribute to the fact that human beings are liars.

A smile is like a flower in bloom.

Winter has melted. White is out. Green is in. Roses will be red again. I planted blueberry bushes.

Once again Spring makes new promises and beautifies the landscape with flowers and singing birds. There is much to smile about.

“What sunshine is to flowers, smiles are to humanity. These are but trifles, to be sure; but, scattered along life’s pathway, the good they do is inconceivable.”                                                   -Joseph Addison

“A smile on the face of the person you love is the most beautiful thing in the world.”                                            -Mountain Dude

(If you liked the flower photos, you can see more photographs by Mountain Dude at: www.dporterdvd.com

A few days ago my local paper printed an article about popular places the ladies like to go for a girl’s night out. They didn’t bother to talk about guys but then again most boys nights out consist of watching the game at Wild Wings. That’s not to say there aren’t girls that like sports you guys are great to have along on fight night. So this article focused on where the ladies liked to hang out. It showed them drinking pink martinis or whatever, dancing and having a good time.

Then a new day dawned and with it a new paper. I got to the end of the first section at the Op-Ex. After a couple of boring letters I got to one about the gril’s night out article written by a woman that really needs to get laid. First she admonishes the editor for even printing it. Then she goes into about how not all women love pink. I happen to be friends with alot of girls and most of them like PINK! My mother who’s 62 likes pink.

Takes a pot shots at the drinks (because they were pink) how not every woman needs to be Carry Bradshaw. Most don’t want to be but most chicks do prefer fruitier drinks and most of those drinks are some sort of color. I’m not sure what’s the most common color but I’ll go out on a limb and say PINK because of grapefruit juice. A common ingredient in most of the fruitier drinks.

Then she goes into how evil it is to show the ladies dancing with each other in (gasp) a skirt. The question popped up in my mind “Well who the hell decided pants were the greatest thing since sliced bread” and two yes one of the bars had a ladies dance contest. Where the ladies got up on stage and danced with each other. Ms. pent up tighter than a snare drum decided that it was all for the entertainment of the MEN that where there. Women have danced with each other since time in memoriam. On top of that who the hell wants to see two dudes dance together. Further no one put a gun to their head and forced them to get up on stage and dance! They decided it was a good idea so what’s your problem lady. One last not they JUST danced no one took their clothes off!

At the end of the letter she said that  the paper was trying to was destroy womanhood by suggesting that most of them just need to “loosen up” Well madam maybe you should have a few drinks because you’re way to worked up over nothing. If we follow your advice then any woman at a bar is a skank and just there for the guys. Then should only MEN! be allowed at bars.

 I thought you ladies fought for a choice. Well the ladies in the paper decided to go to the bar and they decided to get up on stage and dance and they decided to wear skirts and whatever else they wore. No one forced them to. No one forced them to get the pink drinks. So lady before you have a stroke, have some booze and have a little fun

Warcorpse

What is the most powerful word in the world? My daughter asked me that today. Naturally, having been raised in the Christian persuasion, I said, “Ah hell, honey, love. Duh.”

And then I thought about living in California for two years, and I couldn’t help but remember the fruity-tutti’s (newagers – don’t worry I love them all) saying that the word “hate” was so powerful and destructive that they don’t even say it. Ever. Bad vibration. That’s pretty powerful.

And then I really got into it. D*mn, hell, shit, f**k, bastard, bitch, the “c” word (that I don’t quite like but have started using on occasion while driving, but only in reference to certain bastards who deserved that extra little itty bit more…) Those words are so powerful that they’ve been banned from most mainstream media outlets…

But no; it couldn’t be swear words. Those are ultimately an expression of a persons weakness in a way…(but you gotta love them. And I do.)

So what is the most powerful word in the world? Well, my daughter proceeded to tell me that two of her friends – one guy, one girl - totally unrelated, had randomly come up with the same word.

Maybe.

The guy said he thought it was the most powerful word in the word because it left one hoping. As in, “Maybe there’ll be a good reason for getting out of bed today…if I do.”

The girl said that by using the word “maybe” one could continue holding the reins for as long as one wanted (my own paraphrasing). Which kept her in the drivers seat. Certainly a most powerful position to be in.

Such a simple conversation. But after it was over I suddenly remembered one of the things I hated most about my ex-husband: his favorite word (words): “It depends.” Which is another version of “maybe”.

He kept me dangling for ten years with those words.

Example: “Do you think you, (I, we) should (could, can, will) do this (that, the other thing) honey?”

“It depends.”

Or: “What do you think about this, dear?”

“It depends.”

I kept waiting for an answer, thinking I’d get one. But I never did. Talk about treading water. Until I left the pond for happier shores (horizons).

After much thought, it turns out that I do believe that “maybe” is the most powerful word in the world. Only I tend to subscribe to the “masculine” persuasion: the idea that “maybe” holds a promise of something good to come if I do something to make it happen (as in get out of bed, leavea bad marriage, etc.)…

…as opposed to the “feminine” persuasion: the idea that one can hold onto control indefinitely by refusing to take a stand.

What do you think is the most powerful word in the world? I’m curious.

I am not attending my 20 year reunion with a shaved head.  That’s what I did the last time, and although it did turn out to be conversation piece, I swear my hair-shaving and the reunion timing were purely coincidental.  Everyone knows what I look like now anyways, because I’m on Facebook; my pictures and semi-weekly comments on my daily life posted for all to see.  I wonder if I have left anything to be anticipated.

A very good friend of mine has a page for our classmates to comment about “what do you remember about…” and people are writing their good (and not so good) memories about one another.  This is where I took inventory of the people who know one another (from my good friend’s page) and are already staying in touch on Facebook– does anybody really need the reunion?  Will the actual reunion in July be a bust because everyone is already connected by Facebook?  Will it increase the turnout and give people something to talk about?   Then there’s the cost…

$200 bucks for a dinner and dancing with my high school peers.  And really, only a few of them would I have considered my friends back then.  Except the friend noted previously, I do not keep in touch with ANY of them now.  I think that I may be wasting my time (and that of my poor husband who will attend this soiree with me) and money except that I will see the ONE friend I actually keep in touch with who does not live nearby. 

I guess I would be dong it for her, and that I can do with no regret.

Firstly, I feel it important to point out that sex doesn’t make the relationship, but it sure does fill in those awkward silences quite nicely.

Women; please don’t refer to it as a Tally whacker. If you are talking about our penis; call it by its God given name; Kilauea. OK, You can call it a penis, pecker, cock, dick, Willy the One eyed Wonder Worm or the Heat Seeking Moisture Missile.

Now, let me point out that there is no such thing as a bisexual man. Women can be bisexual, and that is one of the most beautiful things on earth. At least in the videos it is. Realistically, the women that like women only are more like guys than guys. They dress, talk, act and chew tobacco, like fucking storm troopers and parade outside abortion clinics looking to score with poor unsuspecting and emotionally downtrodden girls that just had society and an asshole of a guy dump on them. You know: easy prey. I have to applaud the idea no matter how Jay and Silent Bob-esque it is.

Fags and Dikes are not bisexual. They ONLY like their own kind. Women can be bisexual. Men cannot be bisexual because you either suck dick or you don’t. I know there are those people out there that say that if they could suck their own dick they would never leave the house. I say go right the fuck ahead and stay home because now you’re just another fag with a dick in your face, even if it is your own dick! After establishing this we can move on.

Women use sex to get what they want. With men; sex IS what they want. I call this a symbiotic relationship. We want what you can give us but we have to give you what you want to get it. Make this easier for both of us. Ask for your spoils WHILE you give us oral sex.

Acting like you don’t like sex doesn’t work either. I’ve heard you screaming out God’s name, my name, your ex-boyfriends name, and even your own damn name while you gouge your fingernails through the sheets, the back of my head, and my butt cheeks. So STOP it! If you didn’t like sex you wouldn’t own that pink plastic torpedo named BUZZ!

Women act like they aren’t ready to bump uglies when you meet them because they want to seem virtuous. You aren’t really virgins, all dressed in white cotton panties and experiencing booze and these naughty feelings for the first time. You just want respected and you think that we won’t respect you if we think you’ll give it up easy. If the truth be told; we probably wouldn’t be hanging around if we didn’t think you were going to give it up in the first place.

We really do respect girls who know what they want and don’t put up airs that they aren’t looking to get laid. Ok, I’m lying. We really don’t respect anyone, so don’t think that it matters if you were easy to hop in the sack with or not.

Refer back to the alcohol statement about men and fat chicks and you will understand better WHY you woke up with Buford B. Blue inside your apartment frying up a mess O’ grits an m’lasses last weekend. Booze is a two way street. The difference is that a woman knows BEFORE she goes out whether she’s getting laid that night. Guys pretty much have to wing it.

The drunker you get, the more likely we are getting lucky. The drunker we get, the more likely we are going to get a D.U.I., because once we are fucked up enough we lose all perception of volume, couth and time. We get loud, obnoxiously forward, and then suddenly realize that the bar closed a half an hour ago. One more shot for the ditch and the next thing we can focus on are the shiny tops of the police officer’s jack boots that we just puked fourteen shots of Jack Daniels on during the roadside sobriety test.

You get giggly, somber, and /or downright unruly when you get drunk. If we play our cards right, we get you ladies just loaded enough to convince you to take us home while not so drunk that we have to wash the vomit off before we use you as a human trampoline. In other words we end up with Miss Right Now.

Alcohol is a treacherous thing though. Many times while stalking for the right trophy babe to ply with alcohol a pretender pops into the scene and we end up with a coyote girl sleeping on our arm in the morning. Yes, we would rather gnaw an arm off than take the chance of waking Bubbles the Dancing Bear up by pulling it out from under her head.

I’d begun hearing catch phrases like, “I got poked” - “Look who’s on my wall.” and “Tag this photo.”  It was a strange, new language; a language I didn’t understand nor cared to.  More often, these strange - almost coded - little messages would rear their ugly heads in normal conversation accompanied by smiles and giggles.  Whatever they were talking about brought them joy.  I still didn’t care. 

“How many friends do you have?’

“I don’t know, but ’so and so’ just asked me to be her friend, too!”

Each conversation was part adolescent bliss and part emotional fulfillment.  What is this “thing” that has everyone so giddy?  Why is everybody talking about it…doing it and ridiculing me because I’m not?  Peer presure at it’s worst…or best, if you’re one of the addicts.  I avoided it like the plague for the same reason that I too am now addicted to it.  It can’t be done in moderation.  It’s all or nothing!  Sure, you think you’re “just checking it for a quick sec” and 12 hours later you’re dialoguing with three online friends, tagging a fourth friend’s photo, while adding seven new friends that you haven’t seen since you had acne and braces.  No question - FACEBOOK IS THE NEW CRACK!  Granted, I’ve never indulged in the magical white pebbles of death, but I do know people who have and this has the makings of something just as consuming…but in a good way.

What is the appeal (of FB not Crack)?   Let me try and explain it as best I can without sounding as if this is the only reason why it’s appealing and yet it pretty much hits the nail on the head…for me at least. (Whew.)

1. Non-threatening Self-expression: It let’s the world know who you are, who you’re with, what you’ve done and what you’re into now - without you having to actually TELL anyone.
2. Convenience: I can chat or not.  I can tag or not. I can answer or not (right now) and nobody gets hurt, because they’re interacting with 50 other people, simultaneously, who are making the same easy, snap decisions.
3. Connecting without obligatory investment/commitment: There’s nothing like getting “befriended” on FB by someone from your past and being pleasantly surprised…for a second; only to remember that you were never that close to begin with.  No harm, no foul…add another friend to the tally.
4. Reconnecting: Probably one of the greatest reasons for this site to exist. Friends who were friends THEN and after one million years of being apart, are still friends NOW as if you were never apart. (”Okay, it’s been 20 years…so where were we…oh yeah…so Debbie never liked her and I was all, no way…and she was like, yeah way!“)  Well, you get the idea.
5. Family: Can you say - ”Quick updates!”  No more of the annoying - “Let me speak to Jimmy and then put Ray on, then grandma and let me talk to the twins after that.”  Suddenly, your unlimited minutes become very limited with a side of cauliflower ear.  With FB…TAG ME, BABY! 
6. Networking/hooking up: Probably the lamest reason to FB.  You should do an about FACE and BOOK on over to linkedin or eharmony if you want a job or a date.  You’re killing the lighthearted buzz with all your desperate neediness.   And last but not least…
7. Bragging rights:  “How many friends you got?”  One gazillion and 3…TOP THAT!

I’ve said it before, but I HATE IT SO GOOD because it calls to me in the morning and at night.  Now I know why the caged bird…takes crack and sings.  FACEBOOK!

In closing, as incredibly genius as this magical white pebble of networking is, it will NEVER replace the comforting release of a long conversation, the thrilling rush of a warm embrace, the goose bumps from a long slow kiss, the touch of a familiar hand in yours or the satisfaction of sharing a good, hearty laugh together.  NOT EVEN CLOSE.

Stay connected…for real.

Benman out!

I am so f**king  tired. You – you know exactly who you are – betrayed me. You betrayed my trust. What is wrong with you? Do you have some mechanism built into your genetic code that compels you to destroy anyone who tries to be nice or good to you? To be your friend? You must hate yourself so deeply that you can’t help it. I can’t think of any other thing that would explain it.

Do you think about anyone other than yourself? What were you thinking when you sent that letter? You know it had no business being sent. But you took it and sent it. It’s my fault for writing it. I should have never written it. People shouldn’t have such vile anger in them, but I do, and I put it away, safe in a letter, and I buried it where I thought it would be left alone to dissipate in it’s own good time. But you sniffed it out, and you dug it up and you sent it. You wanted to hurt someone and you used my words to do it, because you have no self-esteem.

You have no “center” to write an evil f**ked up letter like that from. So you take other peoples’ evil f**ked up shit, and you orchestrate it into your own little symphony of hell and you throw it at people. You aim to kill. You’ve betrayed everyone who has ever tried to help you. Your relentless need for bigger and worse and more grandiose trauma, and the hell you’ve created with that need, has destroyed any feelings of kindness or compassion anyone might have for you, any desire someone might have to be in your presence, so you try to “trick” kindness or attention out of them, by f**king with them.

Years and years of this game has destroyed your credibility. You know that, don’t you? You might not admit it, but you know it. You’ve lost your credibility, so you used mine, and my stupid, personal, private letter - my little rage-filled rant - to make one more big f**kng mess that you can star in. Congratulations. You’re back where you belong: Center Stage. You’ve out-done yourself once again.

You are so addicted to trauma and hell, you make a mockery of the words “trauma queen”. You just ended any compassion or desire for compassion I have left. I’m sorry. You f**king don’t know when to stop, do you? You see life and you take your little knife and rip a big f**king hole in it, so that all your hell can pour through it into other peoples’ lives. And when you’re done, after having learned nothing, gained nothing, changed nothing, you just go find another life to rip a hole in. The irony here is that I wrote that letter on your behalf, because I felt that you were being mistreated, but I was wrong. You asked for what you got. I just failed to see the truth. I let my sentiment and compassion blind me to the reality of the whole f**ked up mess. And now I feel nothing. Disgust maybe. Betrayal. O.k. so I feel something. Big f**king wow.

What pleasure can you possibly get from that? Did you think about the consequences of sending that letter? At all? Did it occur to you that there would be repercussions? For a lot of people? I genuinely want to know. Well, I guess I would if I wasn’t too tired of your hellshit and my anger to care anymore. God, I’m a fool. A f**king blind fool. I don’t know. Maybe I’m arrogant for thinking that caring or giving a shit, or anything I thought or felt or hoped for in this whole pile of shit, mattered.

I just walked out of a lot of doors. I don’t know what else to do. I closed them and locked them and I’m not going back into them – the ones that haven’t already been locked on me. I could go knock on doors and beg forgiveness or mercy and try to make things right but I don’t want to work this shit out anymore. I’m tired. It never ends. It’s pointless. Maybe some things you just have to walk away from.

I’m not sending this letter to you. I’m done with you. You can sniff this letter out, if you give enough of a f**k, but I know you don’t. I suspect that the only way this letter might mean something to you, is if you see an opportunity to use it to manipulate or f**kwith someone. As far as that other letter goes: you can take it, and you can frame it, and put it on your wall; it’s your little victory, isn’t it? Bravo for you.

Why am I putting this letter here? Maybe because I want to be center stage. I don’t know. I think the reason why though, is that I have a feeling that I’m not the only person in the world to feel betrayed. Maybe out there, there’s a soul who’ll read this, and it’s just what they need, to walk away from a bad situation. Maybe. Maybe somewhere, a million miles away, a speck of good can come out of my hell – and yours.

Maybe I just don’t have anywhere else to put it. F**king pathetic.

It always gets down to taking responsibility for your actions. As far as my own personal responsibility goes: maybe I shouldn’t have ever written that letter. Anger can be so destructive. So I f**ked up letting it out. Maybe instead, I should have written a nice little polite, politically correct “heads up” letter to all the people I mentioned in that letter, expressing some general feelings that have been “bugging” me - some ongoing “issues”, and asked if they’d be willing to talk about the whole situation. That would have been the mature thing to do. But that’s all we ever do. Talk talk talk talk talk. f**king empty shallow meaningless futile words accentuated with all the right facial expressions, all the right hand gestures. And when all is said and done, it all goes right back to what it was.

I get so tired of the “nice” face that people put on. The f**king Facebook face. The face that posts links to books about forgiveness and then blocks the person with whom forgiveness needs to happen. What the f**k is that? I’m just taking a wack at it but if I had to put a name on that, I’d call it hypocrisy. If you do talk, you talk about stuff all polite and proper and politically correct and it ends up amounting to nothing more than another ass kissing session. You agree to the unanimous conclusion that the shit has been aired, talked about and mutually resolved; you say your pleasant goodbyes, and walk away from the problem only to find that the pile of shit is there, still there. Nothing has changed, nothing has been resolved, it’s all right there exactly as it was. Life goes on, the bomb goes off again and all f**king hellfire breaks loose. Again. And everyone is just so astounded at how shocking and horrible and nuts it all is. How could it happen again?

I don’t know. Maybe I’m just stupid. Maybe I think about stuff too much. Maybe I should just let it go and get on with my life, avoiding anyone or anything that might bring me nearer to that pile of shit. That’s what everyone else seems to be doing. Maybe I should just take my cue from them and go on my merry little way with a big smile plastered on my face.

F**k me. I’m just crying because I thought I could be a superhero for a moment. I thought I could do good and have it make a difference. I’m just another arrogant, self-righteous prick. I just wanted to be special.

It must be about something else. Maybe I’ll look at things in a different way and see if I can find the clue that I’m missing. The tiny piece of the puzzle that makes shit “make sense”.

“Soft skin, red lips, so kissable - Hard to resist, so touchable,” sings Katy Perry about a girl who dares to plant a kiss on a hot chick (in the song - I KISSED A GIRL). The song has a catchy tune and a rebellious theme. A good rock song usually has a rebellious element in play. The song was widely rated as the number one song of 2008, but it barely made my top 100 greatest rock songs list. In fact, I rated it number 100 (in last place).

I own a small ipod which holds 100 songs. After 100 songs play, my play list starts over again so after I hear Katy Perry sing lyrics like “I kissed a girl and I liked it, the taste of her cherry chapstick,” I soon listen to - LIVIN’ ON A PRAYER by Bon Jovi, which I think is the greatest rock anthem of the 1980s. The song is about a struggling young couple (Tommy & Gina) trying to keep their love alive against the tough odds of a rough economy. Tommy isn’t making any money (”He’s down on his luck…it’s tough, so tough”) and Gina has to support both of them with her crummy, low paying waitress job (”Gina works the diner all day - Working for her man, she brings home her pay for love.”)  I like the song’s gritty optimism and never give up attitude. Even though Tommy and Gina have nothing but their love and a prayer, they have faith that they will make it somehow (”We’re halfway there, livin’ on a prayer. Take my hand and we’ll make it I swear.”)

Of course it’s a lot easier for couples to work out their problems in a fictional song or a fantasy movie than in real life. We know economic problems is the number one cause of all divorces. I guess the super rich conservatives hogging most of America’s money don’t really care that much about family values after all. I can’t resist pointing out Ronald Reagan lowered the income tax rate of the richest people in the United States to 28 percent during the 1980s (when Livin’ On a Prayer first topped the charts) and the quality of life for the middle class continued to be lowered as well. During the 1950s, when the quality of life for the middle class was very high, the federal income tax rate for people earning over $400,00.00 per year was 91 percent.

LIVIN’ ON A PRAYER has a great ending - “We’ve got to hold on ready or not - You live for the fight when it’s all that you’ve got.”

What are your favorite songs?

Let’s start with the basics.

It is always hard to find a great list for animal-cruelty free products. It’s also a pain in the butt to be in a Walgreens at flipping over every bottle to find the little bunny sign proclaiming what it is exactly that you are looking for ( to be sure and positive - the “bunny sign” is a guarantee label that no animal was harmed in the process of making the product.)

I’ve conjured up my own list. Looking through both my make-up boxes and my garbage can (slight resentment about that) and with the help of some really great ones that I will link and of course, Peta.org.

Thank heavens for these Guys:

THE NICE PEOPLE

Cargo

Avon/Mark

Kiss My Face

Mac

Almay

Bobbi Brown

The Body Shop

Urban Decay

Bumble&Bumble

Revlon

Shame on these butts (and some of these, I was very loyal to for many years):

BIG OL’ MEANIES

Anything P&G (Covergirl, Pantene, Olay, etc.)

Anything Johnson & Johnson

Anything Playtex

Colgate-Palmolive

Unilever (Suave. limited* Older products are no longer tested but new or breakthrough ones are tested due to government regulations.)

Lubriderm

Loreal

Lancome

Maybelline

You can get a more extensive or detailed list at:

www.caringconsumer.org

http://www.mymakeupmirror.com/MakeupWithoutCruelty.html

And this is a fun article to read on how to get your cruelty-free closets started:

http://ezinearticles.com/?Guilt-Free-Glamour—Keeping-Your-Makeup-Bag-Animal-Friendly&id=791151