The competitive death clapping at the Oscars this year was totally ruined for me by the absence of Bea Arthur. WTF?
Tonight, I'll be attending the monthly get-together of the coven, all of whom are aging rapidly. We are mostly all mothers of small boys, only one of whom is a Corgi, so what did you expect? Right. Facial crevasses and a martini habit.
We've decided to turn tonight into a celebration of the caftan. I'll be taking my mother-of-pearl cigarette holder.
Ah, irony. Where we would be without you.
God bless you, Bea.