What’s behind the name of this blog? Mostly that every other blog name I wanted was already taken by some jerk who never writes a blog. Ugh. I’m supposed to be positive. I’m trying to be positive because all the new age books I’ve been reading for the past year have me all paranoid that if I think about things I don’t like, then I’ll attract them. So I’m not supposed to think “I hope I don’t get sick”, but “I am well!” (jubilantly, too I suppose). Oh, and then there are all the other books about being “present” which I think means I’m not supposed to think about anything that isn’t happening this VERY moment, and if I’m not in imminent danger, than I should be super grateful.
And I am glad that at this very moment a bear isn’t biting my face off, but I mean, really? If I never think about the future, then how can I plan for the event that a bear is eating my face off? I’ll be totally unprepared and then I think that breaks some universal Boy Scout rule. Why am I talking about Boy Scouts? Every kid I ever met who was an Eagle Scout was creepy and I’m sure they are the ones burying bodies in ravines for some poor hiker to find years later and for Dateline to make shows about.
But I digress. So you’ll learn quickly that Oprah Winfrey is my personal savior. Nothing personal, Jesus, its just that I like going the the Miraval spa doing stuff in Oprah’s name better than doing jerk off stuff in yours. You and I both know I’m doing you a favor. So anyway, Oprah has gone all new age, so I have followed and I’m really trying to get into this whole “The Secret” thing, and I have my own little vision board above my desk, but its really just quotes from O Magazine, which now I think is totally a tie in she had so I’d buy another subscription and it totally worked. But I don’t want to say anything bad about Oprah. No, never take Oprah’s name in vain. She might find me.
But I have to say, and I swear this is true – when Oprah and I have plans to be in the same room, it means that a national disaster is imminent one to two days prior. Take for instance the first time I got tickets to her show…September 12, 2001. Yeah, it got canceled and then she called everybody back the next day and everyone was in shock so she did a fall fashion show episode that wasn’t aired for like 5 months later because she was busy covering 9/11 after that. But she actually said something to me on that show on the air, so I should have been famous for like 2 seconds. And those f’ing terrorists ruined everything for me.
After the show she was answering people’s questions and I asked her “Do you dress yourself?” I meant, does she pick out her own clothes, which is probably the dumbest fucking question I could ask. I mean, there I am, and the real Oprah is like 15 feet away and I’m worried about who dresses her? I mean, I can’t dress myself, so why would I ask the most powerful woman in the world if she dresses herself? But I did. And she answered ,”Uh, yeah. I’ve been dressing myself since I was like three. Of course I dress myself,dumb ass“. She didn’t say the last thing, but she should have. I know she was thinking it. So that was the first time Oprah and I got together.
The next time I got tickets to Oprah’s show, it was August of 2005, a day after Hurricane Katrina, and a few days before the world found out that Dubya didn’t like black people. Faith Hill was on that episode. This time they didn’t let me be that close to Oprah. But I went with my friend B, who, like Oprah, is a strong black woman, and during a commercial break she wound up asking Oprah The-Most-Important-In-Between-A-Commercial-Question-Oprah-Was-Ever-Asked: “How do you get your hair like that?” At that time, Oprah’s hair was long and straight and curled at the ends like a bob. Oprah thought that question was fucking brilliant. Oprah explained in very specific, patient detail exactly how it was done as my friend gleefully took notes.
I don’t think Oprah remembered me as the dumb ass from 2001 because she was so thrilled somebody asked about her hair, but I bet there is an FBI file on me somewhere that details the correlation between me going to Oprah and bad things happening to America just a couple days before that. So for the sake of national security and love for my fellow Americans, I will not get Oprah tickets any more. I’m totally serious about this. How did this entry become about my obsession for Oprah? Oh yeah, because when you’re obsessed with Oprah, everything becomes about Oprah.
Okay so what was I even supposed to be talking about? Oh yeah, the blog name. So I have trouble with telling stories in order, which I kid you not, is one of the things on my preschooler’s report card. Telling stories in order. I tell stories in tangents. But I digress.
I am introverted, which generally means that you sit around and have conversations with yourself and others in your head. So I have to write notes to myself to get them all organized. And now that I’m on this journey to find peace and the meaning of life and what to do if a bear is eating your face, I added the love part. Because I am a positive person. This blog is fucking awesome. Hundreds of people will flock to my blog leaving thousands of brilliant comments, including Oprah and Stedman and Gayle. I have more money than God. My dog is quiet now. I have the most fulfilling job at the best company with the biggest spendthrift clients ever. My wine glass is full. (Now I think you’re supposed to chant this stuff or something and then it all comes true). I’ll tell you how that goes for me, but I can’t wait for the universe to provide the last one. I’ll do that myself. Immediately.