And now, heeeeeeeeeeeeeeere's Dorothy!
FOC Dorothy sez: I'm happy to report that Becky Lee, Drew's mama, is still staying with Javier and me and I'm even happier to report that Kelly has come to visit this week, which gives me a break, er, I mean, a "sojourn" from all those late-night combing and teasing sessions Becky Lee likes to indulge in. I mean, it's not like I have that much hair, anyway, and no offense to my Southern audience but I'm just not into having three-feet-high bangs. Tonight, I'm trying to squeeze in this week's column while this opening band finishes up before the Smashing Pumpkins come on stage. There was only one e-mail this week and...Hey! Ow! Come on, Kelly, watch it! Well, I really *don't* care if I look stupid carrying around this laptop. So there! *grrrr* Okay, okay! I'll put it away as soon as I respond to this e-mail! What's that, Becky Lee? Yeah, it's really nice of you to offer to re-tease our hair if Kelly and I get into a catfight, but I don't see that happening. Yet.
Dear Dorothy:
What's a hip chick like me to do in a ritzy place like Paris, hangin' out with nothing but a bunch of clowns? Hey...If you see little Frankie, sign to him that his dad is nothing but a lying arsonist and that I love him. Y'know, it still freaks me out that Max set that warehouse on fire without flaming on himself. The guy has a damn Aqua Net mist surrounding him.
Hiya, kiddo! How the hell are you? Okay, enough with the intros. I've always been a woman of few words, most of them in my patented breathy, cigarettes-and-whiskey voice, but I gotta tell you -- I'm going nuts over here. There's no one to talk to, y'know? These mimes...they're just not chatty. Back when I was running around Llanview with Max, we had great conversation when we weren't fighting, fending off snakes in conveniently-placed caves, and/or having wild and crazy sex that miraculously never mussed either of our sculpted hairdos. Even my *sniff* dearly departed brother, Ian, could hold up his end of a *sob* gabfest while he was tossing out his old man's ashes from one of his fleet of
private planes. *sniff* *sniff* *sigh*
Maggie@cirquedusoleil.france.net
Maggie:
I know just how you feel. It's rough having no one to talk to. I had that problem all through high school, college and even during my short stay in Llanview. One day, though, it totally went away. What I learned from my experience is, some people are just quiet...and sometimes it doesn't hurt to let another person get a word in edgewise. So I think you should...
Wait. Kelly has something to say, so here she is.
Maggie:
This is Kelly. I just want to tell you how much I loved Ian and that I'll never forget him and that I'll never, ever let anyone else within five feet of me forget him, either, because I'll just keep bringing him up even in those conversations when references to him are completely unnecessary. *sniff* Because I loved Ian! *sob* And he'll live in my memory and the memories of everyone within my immediate circle of family, friends and casual, dayplayer acquaintances forever if I have my way about it, dammit! *sniff* *sob* *whimper*
FOC Dorothy preps to git fonky with the Smashing Pumpkins with this phat outro, homeskilletz: Kelly, stop crying. Please? You're making me sad. Because I loved Joey! *sob* And I'll never forget him and I'll never, ever forgive myself for throwing that pillow at the door in a fit of temper tantrum instead of taking the initiative and holding it over his face until he passed out just enough to suffer memory loss so I could tell him I was his girlfriend, not you, Kelly, and...um, never mind. I think I've had one too many lime spritzers. Oh, look! Look! Look! There's Billy Corgan! AAAAAAIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEE!
Becky Lee: Honey, that feller is balder 'n' a possum's hiney.
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Posted to rec.arts.tv.soaps.abc August 11, 1998
FOC Dorothy is Mandi (mandia@earthlink.net
)