Lushness and Aggie
posted by coyote
Is our Aggie an incipient lush? This is not an idle question. When the Irregulars enter the social whirl, the girl's always enjoyed a hearty pink gin. Or two. In her brave quest to develop interesting new dysfunctions for us to metablog, she has lately mentioned scarfing two bottles of red in quick succession.
And she's a writer. We all know what that means. Big risk factor. Think Ernest Hemingway, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Dorothy Parker (Hell, the entire Algonquin Round Table...), Raymond Carver, Adela Rogers St. John, Charles Bukowski, Jean Stafford, and for all I know, Ann Landers and Dear Abby.
Just yesterday, she posted that trying to be a metamuse was more difficult than she'd ever imagined, and wondered what it took for us to notice her. I sense that this bid for attention may be a wrenching cry for help.
Must we ESIs stand idly by as Agatha sinks into a slough of sloe? Will we urge her to find a 12-step program as we enter one of our own, for co-dependents? Should we stage a showy intervention, a la certain extended-cable-package reality televison programs with lamentable production values?
Or perhaps we need look to the danger signs behind the windows of our own glass houses first, and ask ourselves what roles we have played in this sorry saga -- 4th Dwarf's ever-present rum flagon and documented bent for erratic nautical courses; the Chair's trademark martini glass and Dean Martin-esque warbles at parties; Conch Shell's secret compartments and unexplained -- but fishy -- long absences; the Independent Observer's penchant for glasses of all kinds. And yes, my own weakness for quantities of fermented chokecherries.
Tangled questions. Perhaps we need to call an emergency meeting...
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8 comments:
Do you get the impression that Agatha is anti-family?
She completely supports all the reasons that someone might need to be away from work for three weeks, but then doesn't support a single day off for the care of a sick child.
Or is this just an example of the misplaced bitterness a childless woman feels?
'Pends on your angle, Dwarf. You wouldn't, by some utter coincidence, have up your, um, sleeve, an offer to personally remedy Ag's childless condition, would you...?
I believe Aggie already knows that she has but to say the word and I'll consent to her adopting me.
"Problem child", defined.
But getting back to Aggie, today she's given us the video of talking cats that Billy Bragg talked about.
I'm worried about the dear girl. She's not even up to finding us original content.
You'd think she'd at least be able to give us tips on how to do it in the back of a Ford Escort.
If memory serves,, it's with her escort. In the back of a Fiesta.... which is, scaled relative to the Escort, somewhat like puttin' the Escort beside a Lincoln Navigator. Or so. Suffice to say, while I'd admire her gumption in accomplishing the deed in an Escort, my jaw would drop open in pure, double-jointed admiration if she's worked out the logistics of a Fiesta. But why haven't we heard from Aggie? I merely speculate. Any Essex Girl presumably knows... and Aggie would always get it right.
Poor Aggie. Perchance we are throwing ourselves into a needless tizzy over mere folk devils and moral panics. So what if the dear girl enjoys a tipple or three now and then? She rarely imbibes more than two pints of Strongbow at a single sitting, even when not behind the wheel of her Vauxhall. (Despite Aggie's claims to the contrary, she wouldn't be caught dead, or otherwise compromised, in a Fiesta.)
So. You're saying no emergency meeting, then. Dammit, there goes another perfectly good Happy Hour to waste....
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