On a totally unrelated sideline, I once heard a very funny radio sketch which involved Roget-- but not Roget as the biographies portray him: this Roget was obssesed with sex. Each sentance would start out normally, "I was walking down the road..." go into a list of alternatives, "lane, alleyway," and end up with something porny, "passage, back passage, entrance, opening, hole, vagina..."
Okay, so that wasn't a great example. But it was a very Buffista sketch, in many ways, and I'm sorry I don't own a copy on tape.
t /tangent
I've no clue what "belletristic" means. None.
None of us did either.
And she used it in a drabble. There's no excuse for using that word in a drabble.
From M-W (because I certainly didn't know):
a writer of belles lettres, literature that is an end in itself and not merely informative;
I think it relates to belles letres? Lessee --
Main Entry: bel·le·trist
Pronunciation: bel-'le-trist
Function: noun
Etymology: belles lettres
Date: 1816
: a writer of belles lettres
- bel·le·tris·tic /"be-l&-'tris-tik/ adjective
So, yeah, I gather it means someone who writes pretty. (Or wrote pretty, in France, in 1816.)
Am-Chau, that skit sounds like an old Benny Hill thing I saw once, where a "feminist" lady teacher was replacing all the masculine words with feminine equivalents. It was a story about Sandy and Womandy, the second of whom was very intellilady.
Without checking a dictionary, I know belle lettres are sort of personal essays/criticism, so I'd guess it means something like "personal writings-like." It is kind of obscure and unnecessary for use in a drabble, however.
Edit: And x-post.
Funky. And I've got a good vocabulary...despite my preference for cursing and words like "funky". I don't get that confused that often.
She's got a cadre of adoring fans who apparently find this stuff arousing.
Please tell me you're joking.
Please tell me you're joking.
Honey, you know you can't make this shit up.
There are some...women in particular, that kind of get high offmetaphor for metaphors' sake...me age 15. And I would laugh at the golf course, but I wrote garbage dumpster love...so no soup or moral high ground for me.
