Good Sunday, people. My, oh my, have I missed spilling the juice with you. I just stepped out of my Sunday’s best after a good hallelujah at church. I was there praying for a healing of sort to cease this special column I do on Totsy’s blog but the Word came to me to simply be myself and use my gift for gab. You feel me, people? The Bea is back and I could absolutely smack myself for wasting that prayer. Anywho…
I spent last weekend with Mariah Carey, the diva herself, and I can’t even begin to tell you how bored I was. I ended up leaving her and looks like Nick has too. Or well, maybe she put on a stiletto and kicked him out. Who knows, really. I say ouch to the latter and to the former, Nick is about to start living with a little excitement. He’s such a big kid anyway. Don’t be surprised if you see a tall, black gentleman at Mickey D’s in that big play pin, rolling and tumbling with those balls your kids love so much. Don’t worry. He’s not a pedophile. It’s just Nick living out the childhood he missed after being married to Mama Carey.
Summer is drawing to a close and I’ve searched the highways and byways but still, no sign of a Jennifer Aniston wedding. Just so you know, Jen, you are in my prayers, girl. Word has come down from Brad Pitt’s psychic that he’s still in love with you. If the feeling is mutual, don’t even think about it. Please. All those kids and community property between Angie and Brad, there’s no way he could spread enough love your way for the headache you’re guaranteed to have. If Justin doesn’t make an honest woman of you, I’ll extend an invite to my church. Now, the deacon is on the short and fairly stubby side but he’s an established man with a big heart. Come on down, girlfriend. I’m all about the hook-up.
I understand Meg Ryan and John Mellencamp have called off their three-year relationship. In all honesty Meg, I didn’t know you were seeing anybody. You kind of fell off the map when you divorced but that’s not uncommon for divorced women. I’ve tried to figure out what drew you two together in the first place and I can only conclude it was that unkempt way you both have. Maybe you got tired of him not picking up after himself or vice versa. I tell you what, call Jennifer and maybe you all can get a 2 for 1 flight through my church so you can find some good men down south, girl. Deacon Ball plays the tambourine, drums and fiddles on his porch at night. Such a talented man, I figure a woman like yourself could appreciate such skills.
Well dear people, that’s the juice for this fine day. I’m going to enjoy this late evening sun and Skype Francois at sundown. He’s so high maintenance, missing the Bea. He cries in French even. Until next time, peace to the wretched. Walk in love while keeping your ear out for the juice, people.
Forever and Truly Yours,
Beatrice from Apt. 7B