Prunes and Prism

RULES FOR YOUNG LADIES: Some arch advice on snagging a husband. Exercising the mouth into a pretty shape through repetition of certain words seems to have been an indoor sport for young nineteenth-century girls; in Little Dorrit, Charles Dickens' overly bred girl repeats, "papa, potatoes, poultry, prunes and prism." (Merrycoz.org)

Thursday, February 02, 2006

Hit me with your best shot.

A dear friend mixed me the finest gin martini last night. She served it in a perfect tiny glass bought in an estate sale, embossed with what must be the monogrammed initials of some couple who were parted only by death.

There's nothing like an alcohol-sodden Spanish olive to get you thinking about what a lousy wife you turned out to be, and what a lousy wife other people think you were, and what everybody must have said about it, or only thought.

Then I was leafing through Bust magazine on the bleary train ride home and saw that you can get your wedding ring melted down into a bullet! (Engraving available, as well as a drilled hole suitable for a chain around your neck.) Simply point your browser, embittered friends, to Goddammo.com. Either this is just the funniest thing in the world, or I don't get out enough.

1 Comments:

Anonymous ashok said...

Um... yeah. I'll stay quiet over here, and just say that I'm glad the martini was good.

8:44 PM  

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