Lucy: “Oh, look at this. There’s a huge pile of photographers over there, something you promised wouldn’t happen if we flew economy to Palm Springs Airport.”
Desi: “Now, now, mi bambina. I can’t control everything. Don’t get so agitated. Sometimes I swear you’re more Latina than I am.”
Lucy: “What do you mean, don’t get agitated? We’ve been flying for three days and I haven’t had a chance to change my panties. You don’t know what that does to a woman.”
Desi: “Just calm down. Nobody cares about your freshness.”
Lucy: “Oh really? Look at that man over your left shoulder. He’s clearly aware of something.”
Desi: “Maybe he’s thinking about the movie you did with Bob Hope. I told you that was a bad idea.”
Lucy: “I want a divorce.”
Desi: “Qué? How did you get there from here?”
Lucy: “You never give me any credit and you never let me sing at your stupid nightclub. I’m tired of having to work extra hard to keep up appearances when you don’t have to do a damn thing.”
Desi: “On the contrary, I’m keeping up all the time. That’s why I’m carrying my newspaper like this.”
Lucy: “Don’t try to bring your Cuban customs into this. Wait, why are you carrying your newspaper like that? And when did you start reading?”
Desi: “I wet myself a little bit when we hit that turbulence during the landing. Not that you noticed, flailing about as you were like a witch doctor raising the dead. It’s always all about you.”
Lucy: “It’s not about me now. We can get a whole episode on our show about you tinkling like a chihuahua.”
Desi: “That’s extremely racist, bambina.”
Lucy: “It’s 1952. Everything is racist.”
Desi: “Fair enough. But still, you might want to put out that cigarette before you talk to the reporters.”
Lucy: “It’s 1952. Everybody smokes. Even the children.”
Desi: “It seems like we’re at an impasse at this point. I’m not sure what we can do to make this scene work.”
Ethel, barging in from next door like she always does: “Lucy? I got your text. What dumbass thing have you done now that ensures I get trapped in your nonsense?”
Fred, barging as well, because he’s hungry and he has no clue how to fix his own dinner: “This is where I say something cranky because I’ve been constipated since 1912 and I don’t give a damn what anybody thinks. Where’s my paycheck?”
Desi: “Alrighty, then. This all smells familiar.”
Lucy: “I told you I didn’t have time to freshen up.”
Bob Hope, barging in from, well, wherever it is that movie people go when they aren’t trending on social media: “I know how to freshen up things. I just make a thinly-veiled jab at liberals and the audience pretends to laugh because it’s 1952 and people were much more polite when it comes to politics. That’s how we Republicans were able to stifle the rights of women and, well, anyone who isn’t white.”
Ethel, turning to Bob: “Hold up, Tiny Dancer. What’s this about stifling women?”
Desi: “Okay, Lucy this is when we quietly slip away. I arranged for this as well.”
Lucy: “But all the photographers and the reporters. We have to suck up to them so Desilu Studios can make a profit.”
Desi: “No, we don’t. Ethel will take care of it and we can keep our hands clean. Run like the wind.”
Bob Hope, turning to Ethel: “Isn’t there a man that should be holding you back?”
Ethel: “Oh, he’s about to be holding something. Here, Fred, hold my earrings. I’m ready to preach it but good and those things might get in my way.”
Originally published in “Crusty Pie” on 03/04/18. Modified slightly for this post. Sadly, it’s 2018 and we still have a lot of Bob Hopes who think it’s 1952. Happily, we have a growing number of Ethels who are taking off their earrings…
Categories: Past Imperfect
Bonnywood Manor 
Lucy wasn’t fresh and Desi peed himself every time he saw a newspaper? And they were all stinky smoking racists? My childhood memories are ruined! 😉
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To be fair, I think all of our childhood TV memories are based on things that really weren’t what they seemed… 😉
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Are earrings the new “bra” of feminism? – I hope so, I can do without earrings – but the other does not work well for me!
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I fully support your stance. The sad part is that the feminist effort is still necessary when we all should have accepted equality by this point…
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So is it freshness or daintiness?
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Maybe it’s ‘dainty freshness?”
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Perfect response.
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Peggy: Excellent reference to past posts.
Melanie: Excellent response to the reference.
Me: Having never been dainty or fresh, I may not be qualified to speak on either subject…
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Now you know we pay attention.
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There is a whole You Tube channel devoted to Peeing Chihuahuas … this is how far we have come since 1952 😉
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I don’t even know how to respond to this revelation. But I do know that I’m not going to ask how you are aware of this questionable avenue of exploration… 😉
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Just another sordid moment in my life 😉
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Hunydog interrupting the proceedings and making everyone stare. It was 1952 after all, and dogs spoke even less than black folks or women or anyone else not WASP-y.
Huny: I’m suing all y’all for profiling and making sarcastic fun of how chihuahuas pee. We’re under 10 pounds (most of us, I ain’t talking about that trash that got with the bulldog and well, HER puppies defied every law of physics there is), she’s a tramp, even if she is my third cousin fourteen times removed.” Back to my POINT…Chihuahuas are TEENY, our bladders are SMALL and our wees are therefore dainty and refined.
Also we have really short tempers and are highly excitable, because short er, ah BEINGS are always a bit on the snappish side!” If ol’ Ricky there is peein’ like a chihuahua, well I guess it’s not a secret WHY…him wearing some of Lucy’s lipstick in public and all. Men never did know how to properly use the bidet..
I smell some hidden agenda or is that just Lucy’s less than fresh underpants?
I suppose it could be those… it IS 1952, as everyone keeps yapping about and nobody talks about things such as leaky bladders and closeted ‘men’ who enjoy gilding the lily a little now and then.
Last thing: If I see DesiLu (trademark) making any kind of episode about this, I’ll sue them too! HEY! Keep that girthy blonde woman with the bad perm far away from me! She’s the sort that sits on my kind and then goes about moaning about her lost dog, and putting up posters, apparently unaware that we’ve been squashed into her butt crack…oh my dog.,,,! “….
Huny spots a squirrel and runs off barking. Hey. She’s a dog and attention span? Well let us say it’s as short as she is…and I’m going to have to wear socks the rest of the year, because my ankles now have to be in the witness protection program…thanks Brian. My doctor and vet’s bills will be in the mail. 😉
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Dear Huny,
You sure talk a lot.
I didn’t catch most of it, because I’m a cat and it takes us a while to figure out that people are talking to us. And if we do figure it out, we pretend like we didn’t.
Do I really weigh more than you? That just seems… not right. Make your momma give you more food. I know it’s hard and the Big People listen even less than cats, but keep trying.
What do you mean by gilding the lily? Is that like what I was doing to the house plants until my daddies gave up and we don’t have them anymore?
I know a cat named DesiLu. She’s kind of mean. She flops on the ground right outside one of my special windows and acts like it’s so much fun to be outside. Then her fur catches on fire because it’s Texas and it’s 113 degrees and I’m glad I’m inside.
Um, Daddy said you can pay you own bills, thank you. He has plenty of his own.
I don’t have any bills. Should I be sad about that? Sometimes I don’t understand why everybody gets to have nice things and I don’t.
Love,
Scotch
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I remember this post but what I can’t remember is if I commented on Desi’s apparent habit of borrowing Lucy’s lipstick. Yet another insight into why their marriage failed… as if the first 22 reasons weren’t enough.
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Melanie noticed the same thing as well. And now that I review the tragedy of this photo, I can’t believe I overlooked such an easy target. I really need to sharpen my skills. Perhaps I should look into a gym membership?
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