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Gabe loves fan fiction. You Can Make It Up features his own personal alternate adventures starring some of our favorite characters.
Betty White’s phone rang. She picked up the receiver and spoke into the conical mouthpiece. “Hello?” The voice on the other end of the line was very faint, so Betty gave the lever a few cranks. That was better. “Hello?” She pulled a Werther’s Original from her right housecoat pocket, and delicately unwrapped it. She placed the warm toffee in her mouth, and then carefully tucked the empty wrapper into her left housecoat pocket. Each week, she would refill her right housecoat pocket with more candies, and empty out the wrappers from the left housecoat pocket. She had found, over the years, that life was made easier by having reliable routines.
“Betty, babe, it’s me.” It was Betty White’s publicist. Betty could hear her loudly smacking on that cocaine-flavored gum she was always chewing. And she could picture her staring at her nails the way she always did, like some harlot who had double-filled her dance card. But Betty always kept her mouth shut (lest the candy fall out), because the woman had been incredibly effective in secretly resuscitating her career and making it look like a grassroots Internet campaign. Which reminded her, she needed to call her nephew and ask him what the Internet was.
“Oh hi, Sybil,” Betty said. “I was just eating a candy.”
“That’s great. Betty, sweetheart, I need you to do me a favor. Everything’s been going great with this whole 10th-inning career reboot. Everybody wants a piece of your hot, geriatric ass. And the best part is everyone thinks this was their idea. And I look like a fucking genius. But what is gonna take to get you on Facebook? The kids will eat it up, Betty.”
Betty watched a squirrel playing in the yard. “That’s nice dear.”
The publicist sighed. “Stay with me, Betty. Will you set up a Facebook account? I’m telling you, people on the Internet will shit their pants. They will jizz EVERYWHERE.”
Betty White should have been upset by the crudeness of her publicist’s language, but she wasn’t, because she hadn’t heard it, because she’d set the phone down to go outside to pet the squirrel.
“OK,” the publicist said, a hopeful tone in her voice. “I’m sending someone from the office over this afternoon with a computer. He’s going to help get you set up. Stay bad, bitch.” The publicist hung up her Bluetooth and punched the gas in her Maserati. Her dog was going to be late for puppy pilates!
Later that afternoon, a young man in a two-button Ed Hardy suit and wraparound Oakleys with the Bluetooth headset actually built in to the arms knocked on Betty White’s door. She invited him in, but before he could say anything, she had already sat him down for tea and cucumber finger sandwiches. “A gentleman puts the napkin in his lap,” she said sternly, motioning towards the iron-pressed napkin rolled in an ivory napkin holder. The young man, high out of his mind, and still thinking about the blowjob he’d gotten that afternoon from a girl he had told he was casting director stared at her. “A gentleman puts the napkin in his lap,” Betty White said again. The gentleman, who was not a gentleman at all, did.
After tea, the young man booted up the computer he had brought with him and asked Betty for her wireless password. “My what-erless huh?” Betty said. The young man groaned and then plugged a 3G wireless card into the USB port. Once he was on-line he went to Facebook. “OK, he said,” desperate to get out of there and go call his drug dealer for some more expensive designer drugs like the kind he was on right now. “You’re all set. You just need to put in your email address and then it should be pretty straight forward.”
Betty White sat down at the computer and typed in her street address.
The young man groaned again. He quickly set up a hotmail account, bwhite_69@hotmail.com. As the man hurried out, Betty White smiled and said, “you’re going to make a young woman very happy someday, you heartbreaker.” She watched him back out of the driveway to make sure he was OK. Then she watched the empty driveway for a few minutes, thinking about death and people she had loved along the way.
Betty White sat down once more at the computer. “Interests…hmmm…well, I like to play Mah Jongg.”
That reminded her, she needed to call Carol and set up next week’s Mah Jongg game. She closed the laptop, wrote “To: Facebook” on the front, placed a stamp in the corner, and put it in her mailbox. Hopefully Carol was still awake, although Betty knew it was risky to call after 5PM. Worst case scenario, she could leave her a message on her coal-powered answering machine.
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I thought we decided that PT Barnum was Betty White’s publicist?
He’s totally on meow-meow, which Betty White confuses with the sound her granddaughter says the kitty-cat makes.
Can you write this into a script? This must be filmed for that last scene alone. For casting, let’s see if we can get a Betty White-type.
We’ll have to retool the young male character so Topher Grace can play him, instead of Oakleys and Bluetooth headsets he wears sharp suits and sunglasses still, but not jerky ones
dior homme suit and aviators! and instead of topher grace, make it a dior homme model because they really wear those super skinny suits best.
i’d see that movie. probably twice.
Betty’s next step to dominating all media is shameless self-promotion. Her new web series looks VERY promising.
Betty White makes the best hash whities
I’m taking a mulligan on this too (even though it failed bad time #1 and this is seriously ill-advised)
Betty White’s Hash Whities (TM)
“Taste them again, for the first time… then jizz everywhere, at least once”
a young man in a two-button Ed Hardy suit and wraparound Oakleys with the Bluetooth headset actually built in to the arms knocked on Betty White’s door
I thought it a little strange to have a Bluetooth surgically implanted into your arm, because you’d still have to lift your arm to your ear and then you might as well use the regular phone. BUT then I got it.
It does make sense except that Ed Hardy makes no suits with less than 4 buttons.
BTW Gabe this is just hilarious. Absolutely my favourite one. Good job.
I heard of a video that could help Betty on her path to internet success. But she will have to settle for being called Tony or Anthony by her cyber friends.
Betty White
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You know. She’s old. She was a Golden Girl. She cursed a lot in Lake Placid. Gabe recently wrote a “You Can Make It Up” about her. She was on the Mary Tyler Moore Show. Betty White.
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Well, the comment was meant to be a metacommentary on the notion of Betty White’s resurgent fame as an ironic punchline. The premise was that a simple reference to her was supposedly in itself a hilarious joke. Because it clearly was not hilarious, the comment became an implied criticism of this type of ironic celebrity. Unfortunately, the concept didn’t translate, and it wasn’t funny. They can’t all be winners.
I thought it was funny. I laughed.
Gabe: I think you are forgetting Betty White was the bawdy Sue Anne on Mary Tyler Moore. I’m not saying she can remember the last time she’s been around jizz, but I doubt she’d be offended by a little language. She’s not a prude.
You Can Make It Up: Steve Winwood Teaches English At the State Penitentiary
There was an air of anxiety in the 1998 Dodge Stratus as Steve Winwood pulled up to the prison gates. This is a good thing I’m doing, he thought to himself. His mind raced with such an urgency that he almost didn’t notice the burly guard standing next to the vehicle. Steve Winwood managed to conceal his startlement and lowered the window.
“Name?!” The guard was visibly upset, as he had been knocking on the window for nearly a minute. Steve Winwood was too busy checking the car’s owner’s manual for spelling errors to notice. “What’s your name, sir?”
Steve Winwood basked in the idea that someone wanted to know who he was until it was obvious that his dismissal was imminent. “Steve… Winwood…”, he stretched out each syllable while moving his hand across an imaginary marquee. “I’m hear to teach English to these poor souls.”
The guard, at the end of his rope, waved him through. Enough with this fucking guy, he thought.
“LOST is a terrible show!”, Steve Winwood shouted as he made his way to the next check point.
The scent of defeat stung as he arrived in the dilapidated classroom. He surveyed the area as if claiming it for his own. This was Steve Winwood’s world, and they were all just living in it. It was his time, his chance to shine. His chance to mock people for minor spelling mistakes and say how much LOST sucks. He’d never actually seen the show, but this opinion seemed to draw much attention, and Steve Winwood loved nothing more than attention.
To be concluded…
This was an enjoyable read, even if it is filled with not so veiled animosity. Was this part – “he stretched out each syllable while moving his hand across an imaginary marquee” – supposed to be like a star wars move where the jedi induces obedience with a mind trick action?
Steev Wihnwood outa conntroll
Actually, the big shocker in the last Lost recap was that Steve Winwood HAS seen the show. And given his knowledge of what’s going on, possibly every episode too.
Pedantic minor correction!
*Guitar Squeal!!*
You’ve been Winwooded!
Urg, that was meant to be a reply to That One.
Betty White and Gabe were the original 2 members of Facebook. Did you know? Facebook consisted of cardboard, glue, and a big blank wall, where each would “post” on each other’s “wall” and make their own “updates.”
Which was weird, because they were married and lived together, no duh.
I for one want to congratulate Gabe on so effectively capturing the point of view of a woman old enough to be his daughter.
I used to have a facebook account but had to kill it. Some people can’t respect boundaries
The Internet: a neverending source of irony
I ran this in “Nice-translator” and translated Winwoodese into Enlgish:
“I used to to have a Facebook account but I was banned. Instead, I now spend my time being great over at Videogum”.
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I have nothing to add. I just wanted to be a part of the most Downvoted comment of the week.
get a room, you two.
Steve Winwood! Great ≠ Gross! You are not allowed to be GrossGum! Only GreatGum!
I’m fairly positive Steve Winwood looks at nothing but VG and Porn all day. You’re gross Steve Winwood!
I’m also slightly concerned that he may not be the only one, just the only one that makes it infinitely clear that that is how he spends his day.
Don’t you mean “into?”
GROOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!
Have you ever heard someone try and describe how Lady Gaga is a genius performance artist? How she is so “in on it” that she is subtly mocking the very genre that she is popularizing in an all encompassing performance of pure irony? That is what I think of Steve Winwood.
You can do better, Steve Winwood.
gross, but pretty hilarious. steve winwood, i think you’re kind of my favourite. i’ve got a total platonic internet crush on you.
This is why you’re my favorite monster. Or, maybe you’re my favorite because you’re so clearly trying not to be. Who cares, upvotes forever.
Was this the playing squirrel Betty caught a glimpse of?
Or maybe she saw these guys:
I kind of wish this fan fiction ended with Betty White charging $1000 worth of farmville equipment on her publicist’s black AmEx.
This meme is so old its flacc….uhg I can’t even finish the sentence.
sorry to have bored you. I’m 87 years old and just got my first computer today.
No worries, I’m just teasing. Did Gabe give you his old Wang 2200?
its so small!
small wang
TWSS
off topic, but everyone needs to watch this:
http://jezebel.com/5527134/watch-the-worlds-largest-bunny-run-hop-and-loaf-around
I’m sorry it’s the last one of the day, I promise
http://yfrog.com/j9humphreycpa468x661j
thanks G-money
I haven’t posted on here in a looooong time but I have my own theory on the betty white “thing”. I don’t think it’s ironic, so much is it a vain pride people have for liking an old person. Betty White is actually a really funny, talented actress but 14 year olds feel like they are cool for realizing it. It’s like when a you go away to college and you date your first black guy. And you like him because he’s cute and funny and is in the same english class as you but secretly, you also kind of like yourself more because you’re dating a black guy. (No racisto)
Once you are into Betty White, you will never be interested in anyone who is not an AARP-card-holding comedienne?
I like that you’re equating White with black (no chromo).
“It’s like when a you go away to college and you date your first black guy.”
Someone I go to school with recently came up to me and said “I’m not racist; I’m cool with black people – at least black people I know.”
See how saying it’s not racist doesn’t make it not racist?
I get what you’re saying.
Oh man, Barry White’s hotmail account is about to get a ton of spam.
May he rest in peace.
I now know how all the secret Gwyneth Paltrow fans on this site feel. :\