———-

I’ll have an order of the tiramisu of traducement, please.

———-

Smut Clyde, that’s just not fair at this hour. I think I woke the neighbors. I’ll be lucky if they don’t call 911.

Is it wrong that all I can think of now is “Money’s on the dresser, chocolate.”

Bonus points for naming the movie!

Two questions:
1. Did Biden dance with Cindy?

2. And, did McCain smile broadly and sometimes laugh, or scowl and get pissed off because another man was dancing with his wife?

How do you think Cindy keeps walking into doorknobs? By the way, I LOVE her new color coordinated pink cast. I’m sure medicare picked that up for her.
MCCAIN’S a POW! BAM! BIFF!
(sorry, channeling batman there for a second…)

I have never gotten over that sentence, but as I got older I found I could honk out the first six notes of the Star Spangled Banner in a fairly obscene way.

What about Villi of Pie-ification?

Back in the day when I was a magazine editor we carried on a porno novel amongst ourselves for the better part of a year. None of it made any sense and it was the funniest thing evar. I wish I still had a copy for its ability to crack me up even during the worst of times.

Okay, but I got dibs on “Higher Pie of Vilification” if I ever do a blog.

And I always admired, at least once I became aware of ‘em, both Ann Richards and Molly Ivins. Two awesome and powerful women. Both capable of the finest brand of snark, the sort that cuts right to the bone.

Finally,

…”Hey, cunt! You forgot your high heels!”

“Yeeargh!” Jill yelled as she gave him a left-handed throat punch. The columnist went down gurgling. Jill ran through the door, chased by echoes of McCain’s hollered “cunt!” and “trollop!” and Cohen’s retches.

Sorry I took so long getting back to you MzNicky (was AFK) – of course the phrase has meaning to me. I immediately thought of the Ginger Rogers quote when I read it.

I’m not trying to say that the follow part is easy – far from it, especially with someone who is obviously as sensitive to others as John McCain must be.

Ah the golden age of musicals – Cyd Charisse, Lelie Caron, Carrie Fisher’s mom, those ladies could move – and I wager that they could still look absolutely graceful and stunning even with a two left-footed clod leading them.

But that’s the thing – in “partner dance” – (almost invariably) the man gets to lead. Additionally, no one looks at him – the key is about making the woman the center of attention – which is another reason why Dickie Cohen’s observation seems odd.

Is it sexist? Absolutely, horrendously so. Nonetheless (and I’m sure this phrase will cement my goodwill amongst the fairer gender) chicks dig it.

“Pie of Vilification” is also a damn fine Pixies B-side.

No wonder they’ll do nothing to hurt their chances for another ride on the tire swing.

Serial writing can be fun. Back in college daze we made our pledges watch three days of As The World Turns, skipped a day, watched one more day, and then made them write the missing episode at 2:00 a.m. Sunday morning. Nobel prizes all ’round.

If your face has the consistency of a vat of peaunut butter, you should probably see a doctor.

“Love in the Time of Choleric”

… He’d meant the kiss to punish her, but he was the one who suffered. It had started raining, but he paid little heed. He didn’t want to let her go. Not now. Not ever.

Unpunished, Jill wrenched free and slapped John’s face, which (oddly, she would recall later) felt like gliding her hand through a vat of peanut butter. “Too little, and much too late, Johnnie,” she hissed sibilantly, her sudden, foolish tears joining the rivulets of rain from the now-torrential downpour that pelted the glistening surface of the Italianate-tiled terrace to form virtual rushing streams down her cheeks that carried in their wake streaks of black from her once-carefully applied, but now hopelessly ruined, mascara. Tearing herself from his lumpish grasp she again gasped, dashing past the rain-soaked coterie of tipsy hangers-on who, despite repeated and increasingly obvious hints from their host, simply would not call it a night and leave already. John muttered angrily under his breath, shook the rain from his head and shoulders like an abandoned yet somehow shaved sheepdog and stalked after her, elbowing and shoving drunken guests aside as he bellowed, “Come back here, you trollop! Hey, cunt! You forgot your high heels!”

“Ginger Rogers did everything that Fred Astaire did. She just did it backwards and in high heels.”

— the late great Texas governor Ann Richards

(She also once scoffed at the notion that George W. Bush would ever be elected president by chortling “That stupid drunk! Who the hell would vote for him?”)