Dear Bea Arthur,

I’m just going to put this out there: you were my favorite Golden Girl. I didn’t even get upset when my college roommates decided that if we were all characters from the show, I would be Dorothy Zbornak. Yes, you were a bit rough around the edges. Ok, maybe you were kind of manly. Sure, some may have believed you to be a transvestite. But you know what? You had spunk. You had sass. Your nickname was “pussycat” but you were as fierce as a tiger. You kicked that cheater Stan to the curb, but he still came running back to you time and time again, and even though it was hard, you turned his tacky ass down right before the second wedding when that loser asked for a pre-nup. (This did make me a little sad, but still, I respect your gangsta). You withstood years of verbal abuse from your hilariously bitchy garden gnome of a mother, which no doubt hones your own searing wit.

Sample interactions with Sophia:

Dorothy: Well Blanche is certainly taking her sister’s novel better than I would. I would kill my sister Gloria if she ever wrote about my sex life.
Sophia: You would kill your sister over a pamphlet?

Sophia: I need the money for my old age.
Dorothy: Old age? You don’t leave fingerprints anymore.

ZING!

You called Blanche a slut in creative and clever ways. You were kind of bad ass and once said, “It’s wonderful dating in Miami. Every single man under eighty sells cocaine.” Um, what? Let’s be serious, I haven’t the faintest idea what you did before Golden Girls, so in my mind you will always be 75 years old and scowly. I hope you’re in heaven in a powder blue jogging suit, bright eyed and bushy browed, broad shouldered and beautiful. Your heart is true, and you’re a pal and a confidant.

xx,
Yasi

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