Everything is so funny today. Everything!
Thomas Friedman was complaining that the omlette I made for him this morning wasn't a perfect shape but had some "run offs as though you patterened it after the Mighty Mississippi."
I just laughed, "Tommy Tum-Tum, then don't eat it." And while his mouth gaped open, I grabbed it and threw it and the paper plate at the wall.
Oh, that was so funny, it still makes me laugh.
Did I mention that my husband Thomas Friedman the Tommy Tum-Tum got me new vitamins this week? I love them. I do not know if they are Bs or Cs or Ds or maybe they are minerals like Zinc? Who cares because they make me feel so good.
And Thomas Friedman looks especially handsome with the little bursts of light flashing from his head. Strange that I never noticed them before. Thomas Friedman calls them tracers. Tracers is such a funny word, no?
I had to stop and then come back because I was laughing so hard that I think I scared the other person in the room. Thomas Friedman was in here earlier and said there was no one else in the room but that man has been in the corner all evening.
I said, "Tommy Tum-Tum, maybe you do not see him because he is not you?"
His brow got all wrinkled and I could see him attempting to figure out what I meant by that but my husband Thomas Friedman is not the only one who can do riddles.
Nor is he the only one who can write. And I proved that yesterday.
I was cleaning and taking my new vitamins and just realized how great life was. I was laughing as I scrubbed the kitchen floor. Carrying the pail with me, I went into Thomas Friedman's office and said, "Thomas Friedman, life is so wonderful."
Thomas Friedman got very mad and screamed at me, "Bettina, you are sloshing bleach all over my good tie and shirt!"
"Oh, Tommy Tom-Tom, that tie has crusted food on it and has for weeks. Here, let me clean it."
I grabbed him by the tie and then started kissing him.
"Bettina!" he hollered, "I have a column to complete!"
I reassured Tommy Tom-Tom that I could get a rise from the little Friedman and that he did not need to have one of his anxiety attacks as I pulled his shirt loose from his pants. Lifting his shirt I began kissing that fleshy, soft, gray tummy and saying, "I love Tommy Tum-Tum."
Oh was Thomas Friedman mad. He knocked me to the floor and stormed out.
I found that so funny. I even called out, "Don't forget me to tell me when you get back that the taxi driver said Thomas Friedman is a great man and a smart man and all the rest!"
Oh, life is so funny.
After I stood up, I saw that Thomas Friedman was really working on his column and not attempting to track down online nude photos of Estelle Getty as he so often does when he is at the computer.
So I read the three lines he wrote and thought, if Thomas Friedman can do it, so can Bettina!
And guess what? I did!
I wrote the whole column and then some. I just tossed out the sort of things Thomas Friedman says and used words like "Lord knows" and others.
Those columns really do write themselves.
Thomas Friedman got back several hours later and he was sulking as he sipped on his smoothee.
He did not know that I had already sent the column over.
"Bettina," Thomas Friedman began, "I am a great man and I am an important man. I am a fair man and I am a generous man. I am --"
The phone rang and I laughed, "Thank God!"
Oh it still cracks me up to picture the angry look Thomas Friedman shot me as he marched over to the phone.
"Friedman, Thomas Friedman," Thomas Friedman said.
It was Bill Keller and he was going crazy over Thomas Friedman's latest column. Thomas Friedman was confused and put Bill Keller on speaker phone.
"It is the finest piece of writing that the paper has ever run!" Bill Keller squealed like a little girl seeing a kitten.
"I see," Thomas Friedman said slowly while I sat down on his desk and pretended to type so he would get the idea that I had written it and sent it in.
"You really think it is good?" Thomas Friedman asked as he nodded to me.
"Oh, it is vintage Friedman! It is so you and so true and I have dotted your hearts with little hearts!"
"Put it back in your BVDS, Keller," Thomas Friedman barked, "we ain't going out like that."
Thomas Friedman chortled so hard. He loves it when he thinks he talks "street." Watching Thomas Friedman throw back his head and chortle, I was reminded of those plastic birds that bend and go up, bend and go up, over a drink. I laughed and laughed.
When I stopped laughing, I heard Keller saying something about how he liked Thomas Friedman's joke but that they did have to cut it.
"I'm sure it was true about you, but we don't want to upset our great leader, do we?"
"No," Thomas Friedman said firmly. "I am glad you enjoyed my joke."
With that Thomas Friedman hung up the phone and asked me if I realized what this meant?
I laughed and laughed thinking it meant that all you needed was a bottle of pills and a few catch phrases to be an op-ed writer for the paper.
Thomas Friedman said no, that wasn't it. It means he can get started on another book right now if I can write his column for him. He went on and on with all these ideas until I told him, "Thomas Friedman, you are bringing me down."
Thomas Friedman did not like that. He did not like that at all. He grabbed his smoothie and stormed out of the room.
I hear him snoring from the bedroom. I guess there is no Iraqi Invasion games tonight.
I will share the little poem that I closed Thomas Friedman's column with because it still tickles me and I wish the paper had printed it today.
Here it is. I called it "Ode to My Penis and the Bully Boy."
Red faced with anger over lack of girth
I still like the little guy
He brings me much mirth.
I do not know why they cut it. If I do another column, I will try to work it back it in. Now I must go look for more vitamins. I cannot believe how quickly I go through those bottles.
