City girl turned City Woman, making my way on the Great Grey Way
But "More!" you're shouting, "More, Ginny, don't leave us with that cryptic piece of internet drivel!"
Well, my apricots, I'll tell you.
Born in 1907, my coming out party (different meaning back then, pets) was the talk amongst the literati. Zelda and Fuddy-Scott (as I called him in my youth), Hemmingway, Gertrude, even Mr. Joyce took the ship over to welcome me to society. Of course, my upbringing (daughter of a mild dominitrix and a father 13th in the line to the throne in the Olde Country) led me to be just as acerbic and acid-tongued as the rest of them. They said to me, they said "Ginny, you're special. You're too good for the rabble. But not quite good enough for high society."
They NURTURED me, lambs, in from them I found my place in the bawdy beautiful broke-ass world of burlesque.
The money, it ain't great, but to bring a touch of breeding a layer of stratum to the hoi polloi...
Well, ducks, it seemed to be my duty. So love me as I do you and join me whenever you can and ELEVATE your INNEBRIATION with little Ginny Tonic.
Ginny's off to Ireland for two months, pups! Make sure to give a purr if you are too!
