Compulsive talker, singer, reader Ginny Romney shares her thoughts as the queen of the peanut gallery. A reformed pessimist writing her (hopefully) funny life story full of mishaps, travel and adventure.
Champion for AP Style. (Except for "okay.") Comments are appreciated, hate tweets cherished.
Haha, I guess I have Christmas cookies on the brain! Here's another Flash Fiction Friday post!
“Don’t you think tea time is weird? It’s not like we’re British.”
Her host offered her a plate of sugar cookies. “Don’t you think it has a certain charm?”
The blonde woman took one and munched away, alternately draining her tea cup. “Thanks for inviting me, just the same. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
The host stirred her cup, the sugar cubes long dissolved. “I suppose it has.”
Her guest’s breath caught and she slumped to the table, her grip slipping on the cup as it fell to the floor.
The host brushed up the large pieces of broken glass, glad her guest had been considerate enough to drain the cup before she shattered it.
The hemlock had been an impulse buy.
This short story is a part of the illustrious Flash Fiction Friday. Read the other lovely stories, spun off the prompt: "It was an impulse buy . . . ." at the links below!
Aaaand we're back with creative writing postings! Yay! I've joined a Flash Fiction group very similar to the last one, so you probably remember the deal: one hundred words inspired by the prompt. Every Friday! (It's another thing to look forward to after a long week :D) Here's my offering: He awoke, having blacked out after hearing the crunch. It wasn’t there. His leg was no longer there.
Don’t think about it. Breathe. In and out, just in and out. He tried to calm himself. Look around. Distract yourself.
He glanced around, but only felt more dread.
He was surrounded by sprinkles. His compatriots had fallen. Those brave, brave gingerbread men. Gone.
Why was he spared?
Remember. Try to remember. That man had attacked them.
He looked down to see how he had fared and noticed a strand of dog fur peeking from the bitten leg. Saved by a hair.
This short story is a part of the illustrious Flash Fiction Friday. Read the other lovely stories, spun off the prompt: "What happened to all of them?" at the links below!
EVERY YEAR I have friends who talk about why "Baby it's Cold Outside" is the creepiest Christmas song ever. I disagree, because not only is it not a Christmas song (it talks about the cold, people! So it's a fall/winter/spring song depending on where you live), but there's a lot of versions of this song and so, accordingly, there can be a lot of readings of this wintertime classic.
Once a ladies man,
always a ladies man.
(Which is saying a lot;
not everyone can rock a bad wig.)
A little history: The first time most audiences heard this song was in Esther Williams' 1949 film Neptune's Daughter. The song is a comedic number that takes place in either California or Florida (it has been a while since I've watched it and I don't want to shell out the money to watch it on Amazon.com to double check the state. Sorry kids.) during swimsuit season (so obviously it's not cold outside) and Ricardo Montalban (yes, Kahn) is trying to romance Esther Williams, who is aware and skeptical of his playboy ways (those South American polo players!), never mind the fact that she's going on a date to prevent him from dating her boy-crazy sister. They sing the song and then there's a reprise with Betty Grable as Esther Williams' little sister trying to convince Red Skelton (who is pretending to be Ricardo Montalban) to stay.
I know it sounds a little convoluted, so you just go watch the movie. I promise it's adorable, with all those things you love about old movies, like fashion shows and jazz musical numbers. (In case you don't want to watch a 40s musical, I found the song clip for you.)
The song won an Academy Award for best original song and it became attached to the Christmas season because of titular cold.
More thoughts: Some of the lyrics are distressing, I won't disagree with that. "The answer is no." is one that stands out for me and I know "Say, what's in this drink?" is frightening, to say the least. For what it's worth, when the song was written roofies hadn't been invented yet. Asking someone what they put in a cocktail isn't uncommon, and it my way to dance around any unpleasantness. In my opinion, the lyrics make it seem like the person protesting would like to stay, but doesn't want to have to contend with any scandalous rumors. So that's how I convince myself that the song is all good fun. And not creepy.
And if that's not enough to love the song again, the lyrics are less of an issue with Idina Menzel's duet with Michael Buble -- all references to drinks, cigarettes and "no means no" have been lifted and replaced with lyrics suitable for adorable lip-syncing children.
Did I miss any arguments on either side? Let me know!
