I am so sorry I couldn’t make it to the show yesterday afternoon. Betty White phoned me up last minute. She said she found a litter of sick Golden Retriever puppies in a box out back of the The Bold and The Beautiful studio and that she needed my help to administer heartworm medication since it was sleeting and everyone else was at the Oscars and the puppies wouldn’t hold still. Betty appealed to my higher animal rights instincts. She remembered that I had once written a letter to John Kerry informing him that he did not get my vote because he hunts pheasants. Well, my driver took me immediately to meet Betty, who was very much inside the studio sipping on hot cocoa. There were no puppies. It was another duplicitous attempt to get me to talk with producers about a Mama’s Family reunion. She’s a wiley one, that Betty White.
I still hope you buy my forthcoming autobiography, My First Five Husbands… And the Ones Who Got Away!
“Pee” S (ha, ha) I love your blog. I only wish more people subscribed and linked to you so that you could get a book deal, too.
Rue “Blanche” McClanahan
She flaked. I thought long and hard about how to break this news to my readers. I even timed a woman with blue-rinsed hair at the matinee show (2:35!) but it just wasn’t the same. Instead of Rue, I was rewarded with two old men filing past concessions on a child safety restraint, you know, one of those wrist leashes that keeps toddlers from bounding into traffic. One old man entered the bathroom and shut the door on his old man friend, trapping him outside.
He was confused and tugging on the cord. Unbearably sad. As sad as seeing someone’s purple photo album–full of photos– on the live third rail of the West Fouth stop.
This is my new montage of New York City winter.
The background music is Ray Lamontagne’s “Till the Sun Turns Black.” This morning it looped in my head on the walk to work.
Spring, where are you?