After seeing these picturs of Joan Van Ark at a reading of "Love Letters" last night in Los Angeles, I immediately want to take my face out to a romantic, candelit dinner at Black Angus. I want to wine and dine my face and then spend the rest of the evening cuddling with it. I want to tell it that I will never hurt it the way Joan has hurt hers. My face deserves that after seeing what Joan has done to hers.