OHH! OHH! My little bubbala! I love ya! You’re precious! You love your Bubba? Enh? You love Bubba Katie? You are such a dear! The way I kvell about you at the Synagogue? They haven’t seen kvelling like this! They tell me: “Katie, with the kvelling, give it a rest! We know she’s cute. God forbid she could have had a less shiksa face, but what can you do? You love her, we love her, go eat something!” But how can I nosh when I think of you? Enh? Enh?

How’s your Dad, enh? He being a mensch? He could stand to call me once in a blue moon, you know? Like I don’t exist, he treats me! Like I can’t care for myself! Such a pisher sometimes. Did you know your Bubba used to work? Enh? Back before I was taken, I used to be an actress. A good one, too. OHH! Bigger than life, I was. I did a cable show where I schmoozed with this blonde goya who lived on a creek, but I ended up schtuping his nudnik best friend. It was a whole megillah I won’t bore you with today. But let me tell you, back in those days, Grammy Katie had moves.

You know what I was? I was smart! I had some common sense, some saykhel. I wasn’t some attractive blonde with a rock hard tucchis. But what I had was a rack! And I used it! I figured show your goods in a movie once, you have the boys foreva. And it worked! OHH! How the gentiles lined up for me! But what do I know, enh, I threw it all away to marry some fercockta schlemiel I used to have a poster for on my bedroom wall. And now I’m bupkes…

Let me give you a tip, my bissel: never marry a man with a big schnoz. The complexes these men have with their shvantzes! I can’t begin. Oy!

But you gotta learn these lessons now. You got it different than that toehead Shiloh. With her lips and those WASP-y cheekbones. A golden calf, she is! Moses, coming down from Mt. Sinai, would break the tablets for her, are you kidding me? But not for you. You gotta work for it. We yentas always do. First chance you get, you latch onto the cutest teen hearthrob you can find and you mach schnell from this madness. Don’t think you can run a marathon and just disappear. Trust me, I know these things. I LIVED these things! May you not KNOW what I’ve had to go through to make it to this day. Anne Frank on her worst day WISHES she was married to my Tommy! You don’t need that. Like a hole head in the head, you need that! Hear me? Enh Enh!

My little bubbalah, you are a delight! But oy gevalt, all this talking and not eating tires me out. I need a pickle and a nap! Let’s go find our happy place and rest our eyes. The nebbish will be home from the Oprah taping soon and I don’t need his mishegoss so early in the day. It would be so hard for him to come and tell me he loves me without some grand display? Hopping on things doesn’t put food on the table or love in the bedroom, you know this?

Oh, my little Suri, I love ya so much! Your Bubba is wild about you. I could just plotz, having you in my arms! I hope you know that. If only I could take you and find life without persecution, I would be so happy. But our people have always been oppressed. Such is life. I should just stop kvetching and take my brain pills. My sweet, sweet brain pills. I take them and I feel like I am back on the creek, kibitzing with those beautiful, normal goyim, who loved my rack so much. Those were the days…

Oy Vey!