It seems she's unavoidable, that evil, "this is your year," "Secret"-spewing, soul-eating, yo-yo-dieting, celebrity cuddling monolith. For years, I thought I'd done it -- kept my nose out of the Oprium, but today, I'll be forced to watch her damn show for the 2nd time in 2 weeks. And it's not because she sent me this email. That was just sad, forced marketing.
Last week, I was forced to watch when Michael Moore faced off against a PR lady from some health care lobby. Thank all the deities for Michael Moore's ability to read & retain statistics, joined with his giant cajones. If not for him, all our uninsured infants would be toting automatic weapons, funded by the Saudis.
Anyways, today, I'm forced to eyeball the Op again as she sits down with Elizabeth Gilbert, the "rock star" author of "Eat, Pray, Love".
I read it this year, despite Oprah's backing, in fact, defiantly against Oprah's backing. Nothing makes me run from a book more than the Opinion, but I'd already fallen in love with "Eat, Pray, Love" when a woman on the subway said, "Oh, did you read 'Middlesex' too?" Apparently, that was the book Oprah put on her summer pedestal. I shook with horror & possibly spat on the woman in those moments of shock & anger over her thought that I might be a brainless Optomaton. After that, though, I made sure to hide the cover when I was reading it in public, especially in the presence of WASP-y, middle aged, judgmental Connecticut-types.
But if you haven't read it, seriously, I'll loan it to you. It's that fuckin' good.
Now for a word from Noprah, the anti-Oprah.
If you haven't yet, pick up Amy Sedaris' new tome, "I Like You: Hospitality Under the Influence". It's full of crazy recipes, craft projects & funny stories about a gal & her bunny -- and no, that's not a euphemism. One of these nights, I'm gonna hostess a little Sedaris-fest, cook something from the book & make my bitches get all kindsa crafty.
Prepare yourselves.
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