What I Learned From The Casey Anthony Trial By Bobbie Dooley
What I learned from the Casey Anthony Trial by Bobbie Dooley. That’s me! Anyway….here’s what I learned from the Casey Anthony trial. (Well, one of the things I learned from the Casey Anthony trial is to not keep repeating “what I learned from the Casey Anthony trial” til a total stranger wants to sideswipe your Escalade and send you on down to, as my father called it, the Demons Crotch. “It’s hot and nasty down there Bobbie. Hot and nasty,” my Daddy would say.
As many of you know, I have what is called “Bobbie Dooley’s Circle of Taste.” This is a select group of gals that I choose for their fashion sense, their fitness, their symmetrical features, their personality, their tone, their pertness, their social skills, their decorating and catering skills, their…well, it’s a bunch of stuff they gotta have. Here’s my point. Casey Anthony is a woman I might have invited to be a part of the “Bobbie Dooley Circle Of Taste.” She’s a bit young but there are many young women married to men in their seventies and eighties who “make the scene” here at Western Estates. But thank God I didn’t. Or more to the point thank God she didn’t live here at Westernm Estates so I couldn’t invite her. Otherwise I might have. And the bad name she would have given to every pert, trim and socially evolved woman here would have, were it a smell, knocked every buzzard off of every garbage scow that ever was.
Casey Anthony, in short, is a waste of looks, breasts, butt, legs, waist, youth, eyes, hair, lips and thighs. Steve, my husband, like most husbands has looked at her on more than one occasion and said “God forgive me but even knowing what I know about her I’d be scramblinjg for the Yellow Pages to find a Justice of the Peace.” And that’s understandable. But let Casey Anthony know this (and I speak for every woman I’m sure) You got away with one. Good for you. Seriously. Mazel tov. When most of us think about dropping our kids off somewhere we think of a friends house or a school or an ex-husband’s condo. Rarely would any of us think “swamp.” So, you fooled ’em. You fooled ’em all. But you didn’t fool me. And you didn’t fool my people. My people. The people of Western Estates and associated communities. So Casey be advsied. If the day ever comes that I find myself up against it and I have to take a life to keep my “Bella Vita” (or whatever you call it) going. I’ll do it way better. way better. And I’ll keep intact the image of millions of women trying to get through eachy day as hot-looking and popular and not also be seen as laughing, blood-soaked sluts stinking of rot and slipping and sliding on gore as we get ready for our Hot Body Contest. I’m Bobbie Dooley.