A Writer’s Almanac

Posted by Lizzie on 11/10/06

I miss my stepmother. What a thing to say
but it’s true. The prince is so boring: four
hours to dress and then the cheering throngs.
Again. The page who holds the door is cute
enough to eat. Where is he once Mr. Charming
kisses my forehead goodnight?

We’re not super-big fans of the Writer’s Almanac or anything, but a very nice poem today, both aloud and on the page. (Who DOESN’T love anything Transformationsesque? Oh, you love it. Yes you do. Shut up.) But more important, today is apparently the birthday of the man we must consider the patron saint of this site: John P. Marquand (scroll left and down for reviews; or just Google for occasional rapturous asides). You know what we’re going to say. Buy all his books. Jesus. Did you know he has so many books? Actually, buy Old Hag all of his books. She will lend them to you.

Ed, Ed, R.I.P. P.S., we actually liked the earring.

And last, we just want to direct your attention to the lower-right hand corner there, where, oh yeah, an ad for PRIME SUSPECT IS ON THE SITE! This is a great, great day in the history of Old Hag, and we hope all of you will be sitting in your seats Sunday night to watch the greatest female detective (in Britain at least; we have other faves here) hang up her holster. If you have no idea what we’re talking about, FOR GOD’S SAKE, hie thee to the video store, or wherever the kids go nowadays.

Filed under: Lit-ish |