Selling My Crap on eBay, Day 11: Snotty ladies, part two

This is Day 11 of a 21-day series. For more scoop on the who/what/why, go here.

a gold-tipped ebony cane

they don't make 'em like they used to

The cane above, tipped in real gold at the business end, ivory street-side, and ebony in between, was mine in the game of Snotty Ladies, because it was the finest, and I was the originatrix of the game. Droit de mademoiselle, or something like that.

small child stabbing stack of pancakes with a knife as grandparent and sister look on

You think *I'm* a drama queen?

My sister, who used to play Snotty Ladies with Chicago Jan and me, pointed out that the Naked Lady “cane” which I put on the block yesterday (in “quotes,” because it is actually a swagger stick) used to be hers.

This is true, but only in the latter days of playing. Because as she full well knows, when she first asked to play Snotty Ladies with us, she was only allowed to play as the maid. And as everyone knows, maids don’t get to wield canes, short or no.

The story about her shift from downstairs to upstairs is brief but hilarious, ergo worth sharing:

YOUNGER SISTER: (running to paternal grandfather) Boohoohoohoohoo!

GRAMPS: (alarmed) Honey! What’s wrong?

YOUNGER SISTER: I don’t want to be the maid; I WANT TO BE A SNOTTY LADY.*

Fin.

As I recall, the game did not last long after that. High society is just no fun without an underclass to oppress.

Fortunately, my sister and I made up. I mean, really fortunately, since I’d probably be dead if she hadn’t tricked me into going to the emergency room eight years ago.

Ah, memories.

OKAY. Enough of that crap. You want to own a piece of Wainwright-Weinrott history? Make with the offers, peoples, before it goes up on eBay: email the ‘tater (miz.tater AT gmail DOT com) right now. Operators standing by!

xxx
c

*Trivia: For some reason, this has always reminded me of the last line Alice Kramden delivers to her husband, Ralph, in the episode where she talks him into buying them a television set: I wanna look at Liberace! Weird, huh? (Enh. You don’t know the half of it. If I could sell tickets for a ride in my brain, I’d be a bazillionaire. Or incarcerated in a mental ward.)

One comment

  1. What kind of a messed up game was *that?* Chicago Jan was always so nice; I think she may have come up with the Lady game and you just put the Snot in it. Good thing G1 was sitting in between us at the Pancake Brunch; from the looks of me, I might have stabbed you with that rounded knife and eaten you. (Hot damn, I look like Augustus Gloop with a Prince Valiant haircut.)

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