Wednesday, October 30, 2013
All Hallow's Roz
Funny, really - you don't think of Rosalind Russell as someone who spent too much time in the stills gallery, at least doing this kind of theme-y leg art.
Which is too bad, really - she has good gams, don't you think?
We're not particularly festive this time around, although at work my secretary, The World's Youngest Verna, has had every available inch draped in skulls, pumpkins, ghosts, and, most dangerously, little bowls of candy corn. Now, I don't know about you, but I've never felt too strongly one way or another about candy corn. Until this year, that is - it seems that nothing makes the heart grow fonder for painfully sweet, doubtless totally hydrogenated confections like not having them around for a decade or so. I can still fit in my suits, but they're not exactly hanging on me at the moment...
So no costume balls for us, no raucous nights of dress-up depravity. Still, we've bought a bag of Milky Ways just in case we get any trick-or-treaters (there may be children somewhere in this apartment building, even if we've never seen them - our neighbors appear to be mostly terrifyingly young, serious governmentische types, with a sprinkling of approaching-retirement non-profiters just for leavening), and I'm bringing cider to Verna's gala holiday luncheon tomorrow.
If we were doing something mad, I don't quite know what I'd go for. the whole Sexy [insert phenomenon of the year here] seems pretty played out, and while this year has had its share of memorably awful moments that might lend themselves to the occasion, I really can't see going as Ted Cruz. Maybe it's just as well we're staying in. How about you?