I marvel at the very rich, especially the women who have done absolutely nothing to become that way, except lassoing a smart husband like a calf at a rodeo, taking them along for the ride.
They preen and prance up Park Avenue like they’ve made such a difference in the world, as if launching a decorator deserves the Noble Peace Prize.
My favorite trait of theirs is their snootiness. How they look down at women who actually have to work for a living.
There’s one in particular I’d like to choke with her Tiffany choker. She’s had two wealthy husbands. One a rake with the worst toupee, who rumor has it, had a heart attack during sex with a flight attendant who lets just say, took him to new heights.
Then she married another flush fellow who also bit the dust during a golf game. What is it with these men? Stop eating red meat, will ya?
But of course I’m digressing since, now they could eat Elsie and it wouldn’t much matter, now would it?
Wanda widow, I’ll call her, has done zip on her own and does nothing but shop, lunch and look down at the world, including me.
“So wasn’t that you I saw skirting across the courtroom on Law and Order?”
For the record, I’m never ashamed of anything I do to pay the rent, since I too could have become a gold digger since God knows, I’ve had ample opportunities, but sleeping with a man for his cash flow was never something I was very good at. In other words, I don’t have a whory bone in my body, which is considered a shame every time I come up a little short.
I know what you’re thinking. At least you have integrity Susannah.
Yeah, yeah, I know, as I break open that can of tuna that was on sale, good till tomorrow.
Of course, the way society works is, you can be the nanny on Monday, and the lady-of-the-house Friday if your boobs are big enough, then you too can be a snoot with loot.
Isn’t that always the way?
Just makes you want to scream.