"You know, we're like Spenser Tracy and Katherine Hepburn."

[xiphias]

Lis and I, I mean.

'Cause, for one thing, you've got that "kinda goofy-looking-but-kinda-cute guy" with "stunningly drop-dead gorgeous woman" thing going on.

And then . . .

Well, so, Lis and I are having breakfast. And she looks at the bottle of metheglin between us. And she asks for a glass.

I look at her, look at the bottle, glance over to the cabinet with the glasses, which is marginally closer to her than it is to me, and I roll my eyes. She says, "Fine," and walks over to the cabinet.

She gets the most ridiculous huge glass she can -- a stemmed, footed, and handled Irish coffee mug -- attempts to pull the cork out, managing it only on the fifth try, pours herself a tiny little drop into the bottom of the ridiculous glass, then jams the cork far enough into the bottle that it will likely need tools to get it out.

And, no, she didn't do any of that on purpose to show why I should have just gotten it for her.

You know the sort of old sitcom thing where the husband is left at home to cook, and the whole kitchen blows up in a slapstick humorous way? In several Tracy/Hepburn movies, the same thing happens when SHE tries to take over the cooking from HIM, since HE'S the one who's competent in home-making stuff.

And that's true of us, too.

Comments

[browngirl.livejournal.com]

*laughs and laughs and also laughs*

*and nods agreement*
*and also laughs*

[thnidu.livejournal.com]

Thass GOOD!!!

(A tall, lean, pedantic chap -- with unruly light-colored hair, a great many pockets overflowing with markers, pens, and slips of paper, and a striped scarf that brushes the floor at both ends -- approaches thnidu and asks to take over the keyboard for a few moments.)

Ah... the great actor was Spencer Tracy. Spenser is the name of a poet and a fictional detective.

(He bows and departs, leaving a card inscribed
Dr. Whom
Consulting Linguist, Grammarian
Orthoëpist, and Philological Busybody
)