On Being Drama-Free

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I don’t know about you but Drama is not my middle name. Now, I do believe as long as there’s breath in you, you’re gonna have it on some level. How you handle it can escalate or quell the stress and longevity of it. I don’t care if you’re 25 or 75, you’re gonna have your share of drama. You may even be an inventor of it, or the stirrer, or kinda on the slick side in starting it. I tell you though, some of the most theatrical folk will swear to your grave, they are at peace with the universe and in a good space and all this other new age whatnot. Whatever.

If you’re, say 75, down with sickness and whatnot, unfortunately, that’s a level of drama. It may be ’cause you didn’t take care of yourself for 50 years, so in a so to speak sorta way, you brought some drama on yourself. Your head is all wrapped up in the sickness of your body and every time you’re on the phone with somebody, you’re talking about what you ate, this and that ache and what the doctor told you. Understand too, you can take real good care of your body and stuff just breaks down anyhow. It’s life. It happens. So be it.

You can also be a drama stirrer. I can’t rightly name a specific occasion where I’ve been the stirrer but I will say I’ve been an inventor on some level. I mean, if you’re gonna be involved in anything, there’s nothing like getting in on the ground floor of opportunity. I’m just taking responsibility for my role, okay? I can’t rightly say that’s where I am now. It’s not my nature anyhow. I’m just so cool, know what I mean? I could be going through the roughest time and you’d never get an invitation to know ’cause it’s really not your business. You feel me?

I’m amazed and quite baffled at the level of drama senior folk keep up. I had a senior friend awhile back go through a divorce at 65. I asked her, “Y’all sure y’all can’t work that out?” “Naw,” she told me. You see, she’d married the husband a second time and he wanted somebody else. Ended up moving to Alabama and living with a woman he still couldn’t find happy with. Now, my friend’s around 75 and single. Just out there in a pool of senior men folk who don’t drive at night, talking about bowel movements and going on walks for dates. Something she can still complain about if she’s in the market to get hitched again. You’d be surprised to learn how many women are single and looking at that age. I imagine the competition is stiff and still not quite drama-free. That’s life now. It’s happening. So it is.







Don’t Hate Me Because I’m Luscious

"Red Bikini" Acrylic on paper. Copyright 2013 Totsymae

“Red Bikini” Acrylic on paper. Copyright 2013 Totsymae

Hello, darlings. Beatrice is back and looking as fine as I am fabulous. I don’t have to tell you that, however. Make note people, I shall be the new trophy at George Clooney’s side in due time. Don’t hate or do a double-take because it’s high time he ceased locking lips with stick figures, okay? In the meantime, I’m having an affair with life and down at Kim Soo’s getting a pedicure and bikini wax. Please, don’t go green-eyed on me, though you may want to write a letter to your bathing suit manufacturer in China and blame them for you not looking as hot as me, okay? DEFECT!

I want to send a special shout of thanks to all of those sponsors who dropped Paula Deen. You shall be blessed with an autographed copy of me in a two-piece. Do keep it well hidden from the little wifeys who will, no doubt, be fetching a tall glass of Hatorade as soon as they lay eyes on all this fabulousness.

What is the Hollywood scoop today? Me! I am too cute and luscious for the likes of Hollywood today. I’m on my way to Paris to meet my nouveau beau, Jacques Etienne Savoire. I shall ponder if I’ll share the details of our rendezvous. Oui, oui mon ami. What happens in Paris may very well stay in Paris. You feel me? Besides, there’s no telling how this encounter may turn out. I met him on the Internet and his name may be Bob Sandwichead. Me being the meat, okay? But who in their right or wrong mind passes up a private jet to the city of love? I may at least send you a rear view photo of our hands in each other’s back pockets. If he’s not as cute as moi, you will definitely get a shot from the rear, okay?

Glory to the friendly skies and that big fine plane where I shall enjoy bonbons. George will have to wait until I return to see if I still have even a vague interest in pursuing him. After this ride Georgie, The Beatrice may not be into men without their own 747.



Beatrice Got Back