Moving In: Betty One

The Northern Virginia subdivision where this experiment would take place had recently been built and was ready for the Spartan Housewives on February 9, 1953. Here are their letters and diaries from when they moved in.
From One’s hidden diary, dated February 9, 1953:

Dear Mary Astor^[1],

I hate it here so much. I cannot overstate how much I hate it here. This is such an ugly neighborhood that I’ve been forced to live in ever since my stupid husband lost his stupid fucking state senate office. He says he lost because it’s impossible out here for a Republican Catholic in Virginia, but I say that’s just skills issues! I am not becoming a Democratic Protestant, I happen to be completely against the godless Communists instead of welcoming them in! The Catholic Church is the only religious institution standing up against the Evil Empire!^[2] Now instead of living in a capital as a politician’s wife we’re living nowhere while he’s just some lawyer. We come here in February, not that these Virginia winters are anything like Wisconsin winters but it’s still fucking horrible.

My hatred for this place really started when I went across the street to greet my new neighbors. The Twelves live there, the husband is named Harry and all I know about him is he’s extremely tall and skinny and has a curly mustache and then he immediately caught the vapors. He was a radio technician in Korea and I can see from him why we lost that poor peninsula to the Communist. However, it’s the wife Martha I hate. She goes by the name Matty, ugh I even hate her nickname. Why was she wearing an ugly brown seed-bag dress from J C Penny under a men’s coat from the Great War if her husband Harry Fucking Twelve is from a prominent Baltimore shipping family and her maiden name is Green? I asked her if she had ever been to Israel and she said she’d like to visit but she wouldn’t want to live there. We Christians put in all the effort of creating Israel and she would rather live in my neighborhood instead! So much for the housing covenant. She also doesn’t go to church or whatever the hell Jews got instead of church, saying she and Harry prefer to sleep in on Sundays. I think she is one of those Jewish Antizionist Communists who think their bad fashion makes them more like the common folk. It seems again Roy Cohn is the only Jew you can trust in this world. The worst thing is she told me she once sunk into one of those homosexual bathhouses! She thought as a former Hollywood actress I would be impressed instead of disgusted! The impression people have of Hollywood, that swamp needs to be drained.

I also met my next door neighbor Diane Two, or rather the Tweedledee to her faggy twin brother Tweedledumb. Her husband looks like a masculine slightly balding version of her brother, it’s fucking disgusting. They have twin babies, creatively named Paul and Diane. I told the Twos that they should call me Betty and Paul (the husband) asked his wife “Betty?” and she said “Betty when you call me” and then the brother Paulie said “You can call me Al” and squirted me with a fake rose and we were outside in the winter! Clown asshole^[3]. I still like that family better than the Twelves.

Then there was the Fives. The wife Kath is this obnoxious liberal with bad skin but her husband Jake is my kind of man. Tall but not a too-tall stringbean like Harry Twelve, muscular, the most debonair mustache I ever saw. Too bad he’s as soft on Communism as he is on the eyes, but my Bobby was pretty wishy-washy about the Red Peril before I showed him how much infiltration the Soviets had gotten into our society under that cripple in the White House AND I got him to leave his fatass fiancée. I could change Jake. He could be to Australia what Jospeh McCarthy is to America.

So far the only really good neighbor I have met is Mary Eleven. Her husband John is a nonentity to me but I love Mary Eleven. She is so composed and intelligent. Her favorite hobby is chess and I’m not much of a chess player but I’d prefer that Matty’s lewd talk or Diane’s pranks. The only suspicious thing about her is she is Episcopalian. Listening to a married priest is insane but at least it’s not some snake handler. I would trust her with my life.

Anyway, so I am stuck here. I suppose the Virgin Mary was also tired of the dutiful wife routine, married to a homely carpenter when she used to go on dates with God himself, pretending to be nice and sweet all the time, but these are trials and tribulations of a saint. I must be a saint if I ever want to see my sister again. ^[4] I am not waiting around in purgatory. Little girls like Matty don’t get that life is supposed to be a struggle. She asked why I’m not in Hollywood right now, well the Communists and the Fairies ^[5] screwed me in the ass. But Matty has no ambition, she doesn’t understand anything. Stupid girl.

Well, now that I have a kitchen, I can work out some stress by baking. This neighborhood will be so happy to get a master baker like me.