Oh I remember now...
(being so fabulous and busy as Auntie is, the insignificant cobwebs that are the details of peripheral acquaintances' decidedly less fabulous lives get easily brushed off and forgotten)
... in a previous non sequitor ramble of yours I recall you mumbling something about having a 'walk on part' on some provincial Community TV channel infomercial. Is that right dear?
I am guessing it was a public service announcement about the dangers of drug use or poor diets in the concrete recesses that often excuse themselves as your 'neighbourhood'
I hope it was effective Alice and you no longer find syringes poking through your letterbox on your return from the late shift at Ralphs
And how is the damp, underwhelming love life Alice dear? Again, I am trying to retrieve some fading references about a 'phone-a-friend' that you had booked for consecutive Saturdays called Eric? Or was it Juan... Ricardo... no sorry dear, Auntie has obviously erased this slightly sordid detail from her virginal consciousness
I do hope you can find a companion soon enough my dear lady. Your sagging nylons and ever more stooping posture will not be getting you any more glances at the local garden store I suspect.
Still, there are multitudes of gentlemen farmers in Auntie's shire - some with their own teeth - and you know your superior lady role model only has to organise a soiree at the wine bar and they'll be queuing up to meet you (and leaving by the back door after they have)
Double chin up old girl. Write soon dear heart... but don't expect a swift response.
I have tea & scones planned at the local estate this PM
Toodle pip
Sunday, 21 June 2009
Saturday, 20 June 2009
Oh. It's alive.
How nice to hear from you, Auntie. Given your lengthy silence, one's first assumption was that you had eaten yourself to death. No? Still hugely fat, but still alive, are we?
One's second guess was that you had been murdered by gypsies after some tawdry roadside sexcapade. But even gypsies have some standards -- presumably -- so perhaps not?
Lastly, your correspondence might have simply been interrupted due to a sudden and unfortunate incarceration. This, incidentally, would be a very rational third guess. Jail. All those who know her are very aware of Auntie's sticky fingers. Totally plausible.
Regardless of Auntie's tragic circumstances, it is highly amusing, if a wee bit sad, to hear her bleat on endlessly about her "social standing" with the country set. Mmmmhm. One can only imagine the subtlety with which the locals tolerate, endure and dismiss her! Poor thing. Certainly she dances, she moos, she preens and she offends with great abandon at all public functions. The heart sinks!
So, will Auntie write again (???) and add to the magic of this gorgeous blog, or will she cave under the weight of her own gloom, self-consciousness and self-loathing? The public awaits. But can the old woman really deliver?
Alice
How nice to hear from you, Auntie. Given your lengthy silence, one's first assumption was that you had eaten yourself to death. No? Still hugely fat, but still alive, are we?
One's second guess was that you had been murdered by gypsies after some tawdry roadside sexcapade. But even gypsies have some standards -- presumably -- so perhaps not?
Lastly, your correspondence might have simply been interrupted due to a sudden and unfortunate incarceration. This, incidentally, would be a very rational third guess. Jail. All those who know her are very aware of Auntie's sticky fingers. Totally plausible.
Regardless of Auntie's tragic circumstances, it is highly amusing, if a wee bit sad, to hear her bleat on endlessly about her "social standing" with the country set. Mmmmhm. One can only imagine the subtlety with which the locals tolerate, endure and dismiss her! Poor thing. Certainly she dances, she moos, she preens and she offends with great abandon at all public functions. The heart sinks!
So, will Auntie write again (???) and add to the magic of this gorgeous blog, or will she cave under the weight of her own gloom, self-consciousness and self-loathing? The public awaits. But can the old woman really deliver?
Alice
Too Long Dear Heart
Alice
It is with abject horror that I discover it is nigh oh twelve months since last we corresponded. Now, of course, Auntie's social calendar is at the point of near supernatural excess (meaning no mere mortal - not even Auntie's long suffering companion - could ever hope to manage it efficiently) but this is simply no excuse for Auntie not taking a few minutes out of her daily fabulousness to 'check in' (as you colonials say) on her favourite (well one of her favourites) wayward, adopted souls.
How is one dear heart?
When last we corresponded I seem to recall Alice pontificating about grubby maulings in the back of a yellow cab on route to Hobo-ken from the (decidedly less fashionable) evening venues of the upper East side. Are you still looking for love in all the wrong places dear?
It is LONG overdue that you return to Auntie's Poshtershire estate and allow your slightly more experienced, but decidedly more attractive friend introduce you to this year's 'special set.'
Since the 'wooden top derby' and midnight feasts of Die-nasty Auntie has filtered and 'naturally selected' herself an even more fabulous social landscape.
I know weekend after weekend nursing a room temperature rose in some slightly damp smelling Women's Institute soiree is growing tired. Gather your shillings old bird and jump on the next red eye.
Shredded pork and slightly soggy egg fried rice awaits you lady.
It is with abject horror that I discover it is nigh oh twelve months since last we corresponded. Now, of course, Auntie's social calendar is at the point of near supernatural excess (meaning no mere mortal - not even Auntie's long suffering companion - could ever hope to manage it efficiently) but this is simply no excuse for Auntie not taking a few minutes out of her daily fabulousness to 'check in' (as you colonials say) on her favourite (well one of her favourites) wayward, adopted souls.
How is one dear heart?
When last we corresponded I seem to recall Alice pontificating about grubby maulings in the back of a yellow cab on route to Hobo-ken from the (decidedly less fashionable) evening venues of the upper East side. Are you still looking for love in all the wrong places dear?
It is LONG overdue that you return to Auntie's Poshtershire estate and allow your slightly more experienced, but decidedly more attractive friend introduce you to this year's 'special set.'
Since the 'wooden top derby' and midnight feasts of Die-nasty Auntie has filtered and 'naturally selected' herself an even more fabulous social landscape.
I know weekend after weekend nursing a room temperature rose in some slightly damp smelling Women's Institute soiree is growing tired. Gather your shillings old bird and jump on the next red eye.
Shredded pork and slightly soggy egg fried rice awaits you lady.
Summer Pursuits
Auntie is reclining on a 'portable chaise lounge' (ladies of humble means call it a deck chair) watching rotund, rural men in 'whites' striking a leather bound projectile with a fashioned staff of willow.
Thursday, 18 September 2008
Fat Fingers
Oh Auntie,
The typos your fat sausage fingers create leave me chuckling in delight! Could you be any more clumsy or feckless?
"The sheet weight of my specialness... "????
Yes, darling, your magic can surely be weighed by the heftiness of the skid marks you leave on your sheets. Your big, country poo-skids are indeed the measure of your "specialness." You really make it all too easy for me.
But I mustn't make fun of the old and disoriented. That would be unseemly. I'm sure your little typo was accidental and that the public event in the park that you attended for the "world renowned composer" was wildly exclusive. How was Yanni? Were the flute solos thrilling?
And as for your rude remarks regarding "Frank", he is a true friend, free of charge. Unlike Auntie, love comes to Alice free of charge. That is possible, you know, at least for the slim.
I must say, I'm concerned that you are becoming defensive and possibly delusional. You know I love and adore you, but it's really not dignified to misrepresent one's stumbles into the park as VIP invitations, is it? Don't you think our readers will see through that? I think they will.
I am pleased that you are leaving the couch, Auntie, but please scale back on the transparent lies and scatalogical references. No one wants to hear about your sheets.
I wish you love,
Alice
The typos your fat sausage fingers create leave me chuckling in delight! Could you be any more clumsy or feckless?
"The sheet weight of my specialness... "????
Yes, darling, your magic can surely be weighed by the heftiness of the skid marks you leave on your sheets. Your big, country poo-skids are indeed the measure of your "specialness." You really make it all too easy for me.
But I mustn't make fun of the old and disoriented. That would be unseemly. I'm sure your little typo was accidental and that the public event in the park that you attended for the "world renowned composer" was wildly exclusive. How was Yanni? Were the flute solos thrilling?
And as for your rude remarks regarding "Frank", he is a true friend, free of charge. Unlike Auntie, love comes to Alice free of charge. That is possible, you know, at least for the slim.
I must say, I'm concerned that you are becoming defensive and possibly delusional. You know I love and adore you, but it's really not dignified to misrepresent one's stumbles into the park as VIP invitations, is it? Don't you think our readers will see through that? I think they will.
I am pleased that you are leaving the couch, Auntie, but please scale back on the transparent lies and scatalogical references. No one wants to hear about your sheets.
I wish you love,
Alice
Pond Life
My dear disillusioned Alice
I am sure you and "Frank" had a nice time last weekend.
How much does a Manhattan male companion set one back these days? Did you get the weekend special? I worry about your finances dear... increasing overheads... fading career
On that note Auntie, of course, understands your disgruntlement at my rising star. You're entitled to describe Auntie's new scene as a "small pond" but the fish are gilded and set with precious stones my sweet. Happily swimming around in a sparkling, crystalline lake of the purest kind are they.
Compared to the algae infested pig trough that your diminutive tadpole of a self is trying to navigate I am quite happy being a big, youthful and vibrant fish.
I do not even have the time to discuss last weekend's festivities. Auntie and her "long suffering" companion enjoyed VIP birthday celebrations in Hyde Park for a certain, world renowned composer. I would normally never consider leaving my rural estate on a Sunday but of course this 'London season' event was too special for Auntie to miss.
More on that later lovely... Don't want to overwhelm you with the sheet weight of my specialness... I can hear your teeth grinding from here
Toodles
Saturday, 13 September 2008
Big Fish, Small Pond
Dear Auntie,
How wonderful to hear that your wordy prose has finally found its way into public print. I've often thought how quaint the concept of the "Letter to the Editor" section truly is. 'Tis a marvelous receptacle for amateur scribes in which they may bray and squawk freely as if they were actually writers. And given the circulation of said publication, you must be curling your toes in delight to think that dozens of people may be scanning past your words in search of more substantial content.
I do hope you continue to find "success" in that tiny town which seems so very well-suited to your tiny mind. What could be next, I wonder? Will Auntie actually make friends with some unsuspecting local? I do hope so. I worry about you, all alone out there, with nothing but that terrifying inner monologue of yours to keep you company.
Regarding the celebrity wedding party I recently attended, it was really quite a lovely affair. And your little joke about Alice being on the wait staff was a terrific attempt at humor. In fact, I was seated amidst a sea of celebrities and served a most delightful dinner prepared by none other than Mario Batali. (A very famous chef, Dearie, though I wouldn't expect you to know that.) Ever so pleasant to find oneself in one's true element, I must say.
In other news, Alice continues to make great strides on the professional front. Just yesterday, I was at the helm of a series of screen tests for a new television spot being developed. I graciously auditioned five editors of a prestigious website who will be writing the pieces. Of course, having no onscreen experience to speak of, they were all atrocious, as I knew they would be. Hence, after their departure, I casually mentioned that perhaps Alice might give it a go and do a test just for fun. Naturally, my performance dazzled the crew and the barrage of compliments was unending. Just a few hours later, the CEO stopped by to review the tapes, was thoroughly delighted and declared that Alice should be the star of this new production. Like clockwork, it was! I felt like Bridget Jones, but without the weight problem!
I'm off now for a glamorous dinner and night on the town with my dear friend Frank. We always have great fun exploring wonderful new restaurants and nightclubs in the twinkling glow of Manhattan. So very different from my visit with you when we ended up getting Chinese take away TWO nights in a row.
Toodles!
Alice
How wonderful to hear that your wordy prose has finally found its way into public print. I've often thought how quaint the concept of the "Letter to the Editor" section truly is. 'Tis a marvelous receptacle for amateur scribes in which they may bray and squawk freely as if they were actually writers. And given the circulation of said publication, you must be curling your toes in delight to think that dozens of people may be scanning past your words in search of more substantial content.
I do hope you continue to find "success" in that tiny town which seems so very well-suited to your tiny mind. What could be next, I wonder? Will Auntie actually make friends with some unsuspecting local? I do hope so. I worry about you, all alone out there, with nothing but that terrifying inner monologue of yours to keep you company.
Regarding the celebrity wedding party I recently attended, it was really quite a lovely affair. And your little joke about Alice being on the wait staff was a terrific attempt at humor. In fact, I was seated amidst a sea of celebrities and served a most delightful dinner prepared by none other than Mario Batali. (A very famous chef, Dearie, though I wouldn't expect you to know that.) Ever so pleasant to find oneself in one's true element, I must say.
In other news, Alice continues to make great strides on the professional front. Just yesterday, I was at the helm of a series of screen tests for a new television spot being developed. I graciously auditioned five editors of a prestigious website who will be writing the pieces. Of course, having no onscreen experience to speak of, they were all atrocious, as I knew they would be. Hence, after their departure, I casually mentioned that perhaps Alice might give it a go and do a test just for fun. Naturally, my performance dazzled the crew and the barrage of compliments was unending. Just a few hours later, the CEO stopped by to review the tapes, was thoroughly delighted and declared that Alice should be the star of this new production. Like clockwork, it was! I felt like Bridget Jones, but without the weight problem!
I'm off now for a glamorous dinner and night on the town with my dear friend Frank. We always have great fun exploring wonderful new restaurants and nightclubs in the twinkling glow of Manhattan. So very different from my visit with you when we ended up getting Chinese take away TWO nights in a row.
Toodles!
Alice
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