I love Betty White. I love her “naughty girl” sense of humor. I wished she went to high school with me, but that would make me 91. Scratch that ridiculous thought. Betty seems to have license to say what she wants and the world adores her. She is like a dirty old man with highlights and flowery blouses. Sounds like one of my friend’s uncles. The one who ironed his PJs.
Betty is so freaking hot. Every time you turn around there she is. Smoking Betty. That little gleam in her eye seems to say, “Take me to bed, Mister Man.” I could be wrong, but I get the impression that Betty could get any man she wants. She recently said that she missed out on getting her way with Robert Redford. Well, I did too…back in the 1980s. But somehow I think Bob would have knocked me over to get to Betty. Okay, I just walked down the street with him (he stilled looked like Hubbell Gardinerfrom “The Way We Were”) in Manhattan and we never spoke a word. We didn’t need words. Eat your heart out, Betty.
Now the world is her oyster, but I don’t think Betty needs those slimy, revolting things to get any man’s attention. How the hell can I get what she has? I’m lonely and bordering on pathetic.
Next. I am so glad that I am not a parent. For one very big reason and it has nothing to do with being cajoled into wearing pants with elastic waists. I would rather walk around in my underwear in Kmart than don a pair of those “I have given up on my life” pants. Oh wait. Kmart shoppers do that already. We were able to outlaw mom jeans so can’t we go after the growers of elastic pants in lilac and pale blue? Thank you very much.
Where the hell was I?
I would not like to be a parent and explain politics to a young mind. How do you tell your kids that these are the people we look up to? Where are the real heroes that we need to tell our kids (well, your kids) to emulate? The real people making the differences in the world do not shout, do not put down and do not take the truth and twist until it is no longer recognizable. And who would want to run for office? I remember once or twice I thought about doing just that, but I don’t think I have a clue about what goes with sacrificial lamb. I don’t need my mother to find out that I smoked pot in her house while she was home. I am lying about that so maybe I should consider a run.
Snooki had a baby. Lindsay can’t stop hitting people when she gets behind the wheel of a car. And now Kayne West has made sex tape. With Betty White. There I go again. Lying like a politician about dear, sweet Betty. So how do I feel about these stories? Who gives a shit. I am annoyed because unless I join the monks, my brain is going to start to atrophy. But then I won’t worry about Betty White having more sex than me. It just might work out in my favor.
And finally to all the people I have known in my life – not one of you could have told me about Nutella?
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elizabeth cassidy is a humorist, artist, creativity coach for artists and writers and a faculty member of the Art League of Long Island. She is an award-wining blogger for skirt, a featured columnist for Here Women Talk and has seen her writings published in GalTime, ShareWIK, The Smartly, More and Huffington Post.
She is the founder of My Views from the Edge and Coaching for the Creative Soul and is a former stand up comedienne and comedy writer for WNBC Radio. She was once compared to a young Woody Allen. Her family and friends were relieved to hear that she did not actually morph into a short Jewish man. She has also been published in The Renaissance Writers Anthology and is a published poet.
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