Past Imperfect

Past Imperfect – #527

Katharine: “Mirror, mirror, not on the wall, will I get the part in that movie with the hottie named Spencer?”

Big Mirror: “Why, certainly. You have impeccable credentials, your acting is superb, and both you and the Spencer hottie need to quell certain rumors about your fluid sexual preferences.”

Katharine: “I could have done without the last part. My agent already hounds me about that mess and it’s such a bore.”

Big Mirror: “My apologies. I was so stunned by the beauty of your coiffure that I slightly lost my mind. If you feel the need to spray me with Windex, please do.”

Katharine: “Well, perhaps I shan’t go that far, but the option remains on the table.”

Little Mirror, tired of being upstaged: “Could I perhaps interject?”

Big Mirror: “Of course not. I’ve got seniority over little upstarts like you.”

Katharine: “Now, Biggles, let’s not be rude. This is still a democracy, last time I checked. Go ahead, Tiny Glancer.”

Little Mirror: “Big Mirror is a total liar who hides the truth from you so you won’t find something on eBay to replace him.”

Big Mirror: “This is an outrage! Little Mirror clearly works for the fake-news media!”

Katharine: “Let’s dial it down, Big Mirror. I still have the Windex handy. On the other hand, Little Mirror, you do understand that you can’t say things that aren’t true, right? Unlike certain presidents who rant away on Twitter without a shred of evidence.”

Little Mirror: “Oh, I have proof, unlike Fox News. Remember when Big Mirror told you that this vanity was the cutest thing he’d ever seen?”

Katharine: “He says that every day as I brush my hair in a unisex way.”

Big Mirror: “You’re such a lovely poet, Kate!”

Little Mirror: “There he goes again. It’s all a bunch of smoke-up-the-ass rubbish.”

Katharine: “I’m not sure I follow. I wouldn’t mind being known as a poet. After all, I was born in Connecticut, where we all think quite highly of ourselves. Something in the water. And the bank accounts.”

Little Mirror: “Girl, take a closer look at that vanity. The lamps alone are wretched, with ugly figurines holding up sparkly Devo hats that will only be popular in 1981 and then never again. And those plaid supporting pillars? They look like there was a tragic accident involving somebody’s worn-out sofa on a farm in Kentucky.”

Katharine: “Now that you mention it…”

Big Mirror: “Don’t listen to that little socialist!”

Katharine: “Hold up, Big Daddy. Now you’ve pushed a button. Do you not understand that this country has essentially been socialist since the first public-works tax was levied?”

Big Mirror: “Levied? Is that where Don McLean drove his Chevy?”

Little Mirror: “I weep at the ignorance.”

Katharine’s Publicist, speaking off-camera: “Kate, aren’t you getting a little too political for your fans?”

Katharine: “And when have I ever worried about that? Now, run get me some information about how to work this eBay thing. I believe I need a new vanity. And possibly a mirror.”

 

Originally published in “Crusty Pie” on 06/06/17. Slight changes made. I somewhat regretfully proffer this up as my first post in 2018, slightly ashamed that I didn’t conjure a clever New Year’s Day post full of hope and insight and an annoying degree of self-reflection. Truth be told, I spent the holiday weekend with my partner binge-eating high-fat nothingness and binge-watching the stockpile on our DVR. I never got around to doing anything that qualifies as noteworthy, and the contentment was redeeming. Tomorrow is another day.

 

37 replies »

  1. Well it was a first pour moi .. and we know why don’t we 🙈😂
    So Happy New Year.. keep slotting in the occasional re-post even after your brain kicks in with new material. I would be so grateful.
    Luckily I don’t do twitter so I have missed the idle musings of said President… (his team must hover in the background like Lady Grantham, ready to pounce on any wise cracks published….. in fact Lady Grantham in his company; that is something I would like to see and perhaps deserves a blogpost all of its ownsome?!) 😃🥂

    Liked by 1 person

    • Trust, the re-posts will continue, as I have a huge amount of flotsam and jetsam in my archives. This is what happens when one scribbles madly during the wee hours, night after night and year after year. Sure, a lot of it should just be thrown away, but I stumble across something decent every once in a while. Now, this Lady Grantham thing. I was initially bamboozled but a quick Google search revealed that she is a character on “Downton Abbey”. Confession time: We have the entire series on DVD, but we haven’t gotten around to watching it because we have tons of other series on DVD as well. (My partner and I both have a weakness when it comes to DVD purchasing and hoarding.) So I take it that I should dive into Downton next?

      Liked by 1 person

      • Oh, my dear, you are in for a treat!

        Julian Fellowes (who starred in Monarch of the Glen) created the family at Downton … and the (was it 3?) three series became the thing my week revolved around!

        Love, War, Scandal, relationships aplenty …. all presided over by Lady Grantham. Not only is the character spot on for someone of her time, stature in society but Julian’s choice of Maggie Smith to play the role was pure genius.
        I used to shut everyone up when she would glide into the library, or be seen perched on the end of the regency sofa in the drawing room … just to hear her deliver her cutting lines.
        Never so much as assume she would be seen ‘downstairs’ – heaven forbid.
        Please, please watch one soon and pray, report back …..I very much look forward to hearing what you think!

        Liked by 1 person

  2. *Go ahead, tiny glancer* …. perfectly plucked fruits abound in this forest of delights. I, for one, am glad you lay on your (presumably not plaid) sofa and ate your body weight in whatever you ate thereby forcing you to reprint a jewel I had not seen before 😊

    Liked by 3 people

    • Actually, I’m still ensconced on the non-plaid sofa. (Don’t ask, don’t tell.) There was a brief crisis when we nearly ran out of a lovely olive tapenade we discovered recently that tastes like angels, but Scotch the Cat came to the rescue with a refill. I’m doing all of my blogging activities via telepathy at this point, and it feels just and right…

      Like

  3. My spotty memory was in full force up until “Tiny Glancer”. Hard to forget gems like that. 😉
    Wanna know what we did for New Year’s Eve? (Nerd alert) We watched the first Star Wars movie — you know the one I mean, not the first in the series, but the first one made, episode “4” okay? — and began it at the perfect time so the explosion of the Death Star happened exactly at midnight! 😃 It was quite fun, actually. Also, I made brownies.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Well, it crossed my mind to bow down in supplication to your family’s Nerd Nirvana and the mystical timing of the explosion, truly respect such, but I wisely chose not to do so as Terry would stomp on my head as he raced to embrace you. He LIVES for all things Star Wars, and he has been known to terminate familial relationships with anyone who dares to question his allegiance to The Force. (And we made apple cider cupcakes, for the record.)

      Liked by 1 person

  4. I know I commented on this in June (I suppose) because those pillars of plaid ugliness have been branded into my memory like those unflattering kulottes (culottes??) that my mother made me wear when I was 14. In 1974 culottes were NOT the thing to be seen in. I bear scars to this day and a distaste for plaid that borders on maniacal. Despite my Scottish forebearers who, I’m sure would have been equally disturbed to see one of their clan’s tartan made into what appears to be an elephantine pair of Bermuda shorts (with additional padding). And I join the crowd in snickering at “Tiny Glancer”…great shades of Sir Elton..

    Liked by 1 person

    • This is fresh news to me, The Culottes Scandal of 1974. (Unless you have told me about such before, in which case I blame Scotch the Cat, because he’s really shady and I wouldn’t be surprised if he was stealing my brain cells.) Frankly, I don’t know how you survived such torment, but I’m glad that you did, just so you could enjoy my random Sir Elton tribute…

      Like

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