Previously in this series: How to tell if you’re in a Thomas Hardy novel.
You hate Katharine Hepburn, but the story of how much you hate her has rather outgrown the reality of your original dislike. It’s a great zinger, though.
You deliver a cruel pun to someone you barely know while wearing a fur coat.
You are at a party where you hate everyone in attendance. You are having a marvelous time.
People compare you to something Oscar Wilde said once in a vague and general sense.
A man who does not love you does not call you.
You have a complicated relationship with your own Jewishness that is best left unexplored.
Your laugh sounds like a suicide attempt.
Someone hurt you once, and it was the most vicious and heartbreaking thing in the world. You’re hurting someone right now, and it’s wonderful.
You cannot keep yourself from marrying closeted homosexual men. You keep meaning to write a note to remind yourself to stop, but you never do.
You’re funny, but not ha-ha funny, more like an acerbic and ironic take on the human condition funny.
You know, the kind of funny where people don’t really want to be around you.
The only reason you’re not pouring yourself a Scotch right now is because you’re finishing a martini.
The editors at Vanity Fair dine out on your name for decades after you have died.
You’re no fun at all, but at least you know how to have a good time.
Tags: algonquin round table, dorothy parker, how to tell what novel you’re in
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“You cannot keep yourself from marrying closeted homosexual men. You keep meaning to write a note to remind yourself to stop, but you never do.”
Crossover with the future “Are You Judy Garland?” installment?
I scored like 9 of 14. I’m scared.
Yeah, I think I found the story I am in.
There was a time, when I was 19 or so, when I really wanted to be in a Dorothy Parker story. Now it’s not so voluntary, and that is scary.
… OK, every is clearly reading different Dorothy Parker stories than I am. Recommend some, please?
I give anti-recommendations for “Big Blonde”, “Horsie”, “The Bolt Behind the Blue”,
You would much, much rather kill yourself than have an earnest conversation about your feelings.
Um, is that not normal?
You’d be surprised at the amount of times killing oneself wins as the most appealing choice in a given scenario. Years ago, a girl I went to high school with tried to kill herself because her wallet was stolen. She explained that it was just too much trouble to bother with the paper work so she set about swallowing a bottle of pills. “Death is easier.”
The best solution is often, kill yourself.
Too much paperwork? Kill youself.
Too many dishes? Kill yourself.
Emotions of any kind? Kill yourself.
Need to take a shower before work but are feeling kind of lazy and don’t really want to get off the couch right now? Kill yourself.
It’s the miracle cure!
Oh, not at all! Killing yourself is such a hassle.
Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren’t lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.
Someone handed me this verse in a note in high school. It absolutely made me want to kill myself, partially just to spite them. Guess I lost that round.
It’s 9am, hand me a drink.
“Get me a vodka rocks.”
“Mom, it’s breakfast.”
“And a piece of toast.”
This makes me want to spend the entire morning reading Dorothy Parker!
Yes, still wanna be Dorothy Parker when I grow up. With maybe less scotch.
No, no no no no no no no.
No.
No to Dorothy Parker, or no to “less scotch”?
No to Dorothy Parker. I mean, if you’re going to Dorothy Parker, definitely also do the scotch, because _damn_.
I mean; when she died, she left her estate to Martin Luther King Jr. Her executor contested this, and then didn’t bury her ashes for 17 years. Eventually the NAACP – recognizing the intent of her wishes as lovely – gained custody of her ashes and buried them.
All of the anecdotes about her life are heart-breaking! All of them! Even her grave is extra heart-breaking!
I’m just not a big fan of whiskies.
You can drink whatever you like so long as you make your own reproductive decisions and marry people who are actually attracted to you. Also, choose an executor who knows what’s in your will.
“Someone hurt you once, and it was the most vicious and heartbreaking thing in the world. You’re hurting someone right now, and it’s wonderful.”
Hello, ages 16-19. I do not miss you.
The only reason I can say that this is also me is because of my forray into BDSM.
Your hat is a metaphor for your virginity
You are Marie of Romania.
“Lady, make a note of this: one of you is lying”
You are always trying to figure out which of you that is.
I expected the Parker I bought to be all acerb, but so much of it is horrifically maudlin vignettes. Horses who pull cabs plod along doggedly while feeling great pain and ennui. Women suffer nervous breakdowns after aborting the child of the man they love (who does not love them) and then are judged by their friends. Good, poor and unattractive women work hard and then die alone and unloved while attractive and rich women with no souls are adored and petted.
“You deliver a cruel pun to someone you barely know while wearing a fur coat.”
New life goal.
Someone handed me this verse in a note in high school. It absolutely made me want to kill myself, partially just to spite them. Guess I lost that round.
Arrangement in Black and White! It's the first one I ever read, and remains my favourite.
Bit late to this party, but my god.
“The only reason you’re not pouring yourself a Scotch right now is because you’re finishing a martini.”
Me. Every party. Goddammit. I wanna steal this so bad, modify it so that I’m the subject and wear it on a shirt FOREVER.