Hollywood (1942)

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I * I wish you'd ask me about Tampons! As a nurse, 1 /enow tampons make sense. The freedom and conifori of internal protection are wonderful! But, there arc tampons and tampons! Do you wonder which is the best — the right tampon for you? Let me give you some answers . . . Is protection sure? Stf tf< 4 The secret of protection is quick, sure absorption! Meds absorb faster because of their exclusive "safety center" feature. Meds — made of finest, pure cotton — hold more than 300% of their weight in moisture. What about comfort? For comfort a tampon must fit! Meds were scientifically designed to fit — by a woman's doctor. Meds eliminate bulges — chafing — pins — odor ! Each Meds comes in a one-time-use applicator ... so easy to use! And Meds actually cost /ess than any other tampons in individual applicators . . . no more than leading napkins. Try Meds! BOX OF 10— 25e BOX OF 50— 98C Meds The Modess Tampon %oi*y Doe§ Mt Kv .IK lilt Y It I I. IV Marie McDonald frankly li>es on attention uiirl believes, noise is. the easiest waj to attract it. She's currently sounding off in Univereal'g Pardon My Sarong ■ Universal Pictures thinks it has something in Marie McDonald. Marie McDonald is sure of it. After starring in the usual quota of leg-art stills and playing progressively larger bits during the first eight months of her contract, she'll see her name in the billing for Pardon My Sarong, in which Lou Costello quite understandably pursues her lithe and luscious figure through a jungle, while the monkeys look down with approval for his taste and awe at her stupefying vitality. If an insistent personality and the confident support of her studio can accomplish it, she'll shortly be a star. Marie McDonald is as demure and retiring as a steam calliope, and would no more assert herself than would a mosquito. On a set today she is, in the words of the director of Pardon My Sarong, as noisy as twenty men, wisecracking, kidding the nearest available prop boy or producer, wandering into still-camera range to steal the show from stars by mugging in their publicity shots, leaping onto chairs to do brief ad lib skits with agreeable stooges — such as the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet: "Ah Juliet, Juliet, wherefore art thou up in yon balcony?" "Ah Romeo, Romeo — because I couldn't afford an orchestra seat," she snaps, and hops off the chair with a beaming "Yukyuk-yuk-yuk." She has as many fine points as any woman and knows it, and they're particularly well displayed in the South Seas costume she wears in the picture. The costume has no necessary connection with her legs, of which she makes good use in periods of idleness on the set. Periods of idleness, of course, are no such thing for Marie, who has the playful vitality of a seal just before feeding. Perched atop a stepladder, she extends one shapely gam, fully clothed in tan greasepaint, and induces an anything but protesting male bystander to play quoits with a cap tossed onto her bare foot. Like Barnum, she doesn't much care whether it's with approval or disapproval, so long as she's noticed. At the age of five, in Kentucky, where she was born Marie Frye in 1923, she was locked in a hotel room by her parents to keep her out of mischief while they stepped out for a few minutes. To dissipate her boredom she set fire to the room. This pleased her until S A" < > >* f * M V her parents, who saw the blazing curtains in the windows, came dashing back — to find themselves in turn locked out by Marie — who stayed in the room, quaking with guilty terror, until she was smoked out. Her parents discovered what many have learned since — that their daughter is as easy to ignore as a five-alarm fire. Some years later she was competing for the title of Miss New York. Lost in a lineup of over a hundred girls, she realized that her old standby, simple noise, couldn't win for her. So she gave a false name to the judges, then ducked away from her appointed place in line to the tail end. When the false name was called she