My TiVo chose to record a VH1 Classic Albums rerun of Judas Priest, which we've seen a billion times, instead of Tuesday's Oprah -- which was about the blue guy! Now I'm blue.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Horton is Heaven
"I am heaven," Jim Carrey says, between farts and pretending to spray his scent on Oprah's furniture. That's his motto: "I am heaven." He's a strange duck, switching on a dime from borderline scary zaniosity to Beautiful Person Deep Thoughts. Oprah had him on Monday to promote his new movie, "Horton Hears a Who." "It's so metaphysical, " Oprah raved. "It made me want to take a look at all the Dr. Seusses. Deeeeep." So, in keeping with my goal of doing whatever Oprah says, I went back and looked at many Seusses, and they are deep. I started with the one about the Grinch, also played in the movies by Jim Carrey, and I kinda remember thinking the movie made the Who's seem a little less than lovely. They looked weird, for one thing, and they were kind of competitive and materialistic, as I recall. All that crazy stuff about who's got the best Christmas lights? That wasn't in the book. I hope the Who's'll be portrayed this time as the virtuous little beings they are. I also looked at a Seuss you don't often hear so much about, "Happy Birthday to You," which has this great part that says, "Eat whatever you want. Today no one tells you you cawnt or you shawnt. If you wish, you may eat with both hands and both feet. So get in there and munch. Have a big muncheroo! Today is your birthday! Today you are you!" Take that, Dr. Oz.
No problem for me to share Oprah's adoration of Carol Burnett. I've got massive love for Carol Burnett. She took out a patron in my high school yearbook, which shouldn't be my best high school memory, but is.
Oprah's got respect for Steve Carell, too, which is very modern of her. He's so modern. Post-modern. I saw him once buying a bunch of junk food at 7-11, which is post-healthy. But he makes it work.
Hey, the next show is the blue guy! I bet Jim Carrey's still weirder.
Oprah's got respect for Steve Carell, too, which is very modern of her. He's so modern. Post-modern. I saw him once buying a bunch of junk food at 7-11, which is post-healthy. But he makes it work.
Hey, the next show is the blue guy! I bet Jim Carrey's still weirder.
An Oprah Uh-Oh
Hit my first snag. Just as I was about to close the deal on a brand spankin' new, expertly fitted bra, per Friday's Oprah, it occurred to me that to do so would be a direct violation of Wednesday's Oprah. Remember Suze Orman's pronouncement that any idiot ought to be able to save a little money? I mean, come on, anybody can find 10 bucks a week. Don't tell me you can't do it. Words to that effect that were just so "oh please" that even Oprah backed down to the financial alpha female. "I'm not gonna tell you anything," Oprah said. Oprah, who could easily upholster a couch with thousand-dollar bills and never miss it, is probably thinking twice now about whether to indulge in new Maidenform. So what do I do? A moment of truth in Macy's fitting room, Eastern European bra fitter waiting for a decision. The gals need the boost, all hands agree, but at the same time I'm supposed to be stashing a few grand away a year. Could I really justify 60 smackers worth of new lingerie? I decided to keep my old bra and stuff it with cash. A penny saved is a B cup earned, okay? Okay.
Friday, February 15, 2008
How to Look Good Clothed
Friday's Oprah (Feb. 15) is a sample-size of Carson Kressley's newish cable series, "How to Look Good Naked." Oprah began by asking, "Who here loves the way they look naked?" and quite a few audience babes stood up to be counted. BTW Carson himself looks better than I remember on "Queer Eye." Every man ought to wear a jacket and tie all the time. Looks so sharp. Anyway, I'm familiar with the show already and it's not about being naked at all. It's about flattering clothes and deep, depressing body issues and tears, which prompted Carson to wail, "Why didn't I do a sitcom?" Having worked on a Lifetime sitcom (briefly) myself, I can pretty much guarantee that if he had, Carson would be on the network's least-watched show instead of its most-watched. It's a reality world these days, let's face it. They got no love for comedy anymore.
The chirpy Carson then pep-talks a woman named Michael (really) who rocks a near-baritone speaking voice. The message is accept yourself, extra lbs. and all. Like the original "What Not to Wear" gals on the BBC, Trinny and Suzannah, Carson accompanies the lady to a hall of mirrors offering 360 views while the bra-and-pantied Michael bemoans NOT looking good naked. But then Carson says something supportive (like "You may not see the skinny girl from 20 years ago, but I want you to see the beautiful woman who's still there"), which is enough to allow him to hug her to his fully clothed chest. I imagine Will is still playing this role Grace even now.
Michael, like pretty much every woman on every makeover show, has a distorted body image and is her own worst critic. The thing that sets the Kressley show apart, though, is the gargantuan underwear photos of his subjects displayed on buildings high above humanity, while below, Carson collects man-on-the-street opinions that are inevitably complimentary to the feminine figure: "Beautiful legs." "Great decollete." Which prompts Carson, channelling Richard Simmons, to holla, "Snaps for the word decollete!" That's the role Jack would play for Grace.
Carson recommends that we all start with positive self-talk, and Oprah offers her own body-embracing affirmation: "It's all good if it's carryin' you around. That's what I say. It's all good if it's carryin' you around."
I'm pretty sure this is the first instance since I've been blogging that Oprah's gone country, She'll do it again, keep watching. I love it when her precise King's English takes a sharp twangin' turn into the backwoods. She did it earlier this week, when she brought up Skinny Cow ice cream. "Luuuuv the Skinny Cow!" This is different from the famous Oprah bellow, which came out with bells on when they got on the subject of foundation garments. "Millions of women I know.... are in need of a major BRAAAAAAAAAA and underwear interven-SHUUUUUNNNN."
Come to think of it, I am too. Now I'm determined to lift and separate with the help of a professional department store fitter, which Oprah seems to agree is essential. Maybe I won't need the Skinny Cow if I'm pullin' up my girls right. Now I'm going country.
The upshot of the show involves each formerly bad-body-image woman posing naked -- except for beaucoup maquilliage and hair extensions, you better know it -- and displaying their King Kong-scale nudity on a Michigan Avenue office building. The experience brought Michael to her "come-to-Jesus" moment. Saved from self-loathing! Self-esteem reinstated! Thanks Carson! Thanks Oprah! Now I'm off to find myself a Bra Whisperer. Let the hoisting begin!
The chirpy Carson then pep-talks a woman named Michael (really) who rocks a near-baritone speaking voice. The message is accept yourself, extra lbs. and all. Like the original "What Not to Wear" gals on the BBC, Trinny and Suzannah, Carson accompanies the lady to a hall of mirrors offering 360 views while the bra-and-pantied Michael bemoans NOT looking good naked. But then Carson says something supportive (like "You may not see the skinny girl from 20 years ago, but I want you to see the beautiful woman who's still there"), which is enough to allow him to hug her to his fully clothed chest. I imagine Will is still playing this role Grace even now.
Michael, like pretty much every woman on every makeover show, has a distorted body image and is her own worst critic. The thing that sets the Kressley show apart, though, is the gargantuan underwear photos of his subjects displayed on buildings high above humanity, while below, Carson collects man-on-the-street opinions that are inevitably complimentary to the feminine figure: "Beautiful legs." "Great decollete." Which prompts Carson, channelling Richard Simmons, to holla, "Snaps for the word decollete!" That's the role Jack would play for Grace.
Carson recommends that we all start with positive self-talk, and Oprah offers her own body-embracing affirmation: "It's all good if it's carryin' you around. That's what I say. It's all good if it's carryin' you around."
I'm pretty sure this is the first instance since I've been blogging that Oprah's gone country, She'll do it again, keep watching. I love it when her precise King's English takes a sharp twangin' turn into the backwoods. She did it earlier this week, when she brought up Skinny Cow ice cream. "Luuuuv the Skinny Cow!" This is different from the famous Oprah bellow, which came out with bells on when they got on the subject of foundation garments. "Millions of women I know.... are in need of a major BRAAAAAAAAAA and underwear interven-SHUUUUUNNNN."
Come to think of it, I am too. Now I'm determined to lift and separate with the help of a professional department store fitter, which Oprah seems to agree is essential. Maybe I won't need the Skinny Cow if I'm pullin' up my girls right. Now I'm going country.
The upshot of the show involves each formerly bad-body-image woman posing naked -- except for beaucoup maquilliage and hair extensions, you better know it -- and displaying their King Kong-scale nudity on a Michigan Avenue office building. The experience brought Michael to her "come-to-Jesus" moment. Saved from self-loathing! Self-esteem reinstated! Thanks Carson! Thanks Oprah! Now I'm off to find myself a Bra Whisperer. Let the hoisting begin!
Sadistic Valentines
Thursday's Oprah is all about love and a "miracle dog." No more Suze Orman and her Geraldine Ferraro power bob, thank God. The only thing on Oprah's mind is people telling people they love them. A nice easy one for Valentine's Day. At least I think so.
First, somebody's husband is a big Patti LaBelle fan, and the wife wants Oprah to arrange for him to duet with the original Lady Marmalade. This ought throw this guy for a loop, right? But the guy didn't seem suprised at all. Patti LaBelle materializes in a splashy red dress in the middle of your song and starts outsinging you. Wouldn't that stop you in your tracks? Not this guy. He acted like it's the most normal thing. But then I guess if he's a real Patti LaBelle fan, he knows Patti LaBelle upstaging people is the most normal thing.
Next Oprah says anybody can be your Valentine, even your grandma. I'm sorry, but that's going to be cold comfort to a lot of single gals.
The next "I love you" suprise was about a guy who tried to raise money to ask his girlfriend to marry him via a SuperBowl commercial. Why do guys think women want the most personal moments in their lives to take place at football games? My 8th grader is a huge football fan, even did his big research paper on the history of the SuperBowl. HE might want to be proposed to the SuperBowl, but I don't know any adult women who would. Anyway, the guy who wanted the SuperBowl spot couldn't get the money together, so he made a cheapie commercial and had it air during "Veronica Mars." He taped his fiancee's reaction and the she made noises like a mental patient. Not pretty.
In fact, except for bit about the sweetheart doggie who was loved back to life by his family, this whole show is about taking our unsuspecting loved ones and startling the crap out of them. Personally, I'm against this. I'm too jumpy. I'd interpret any of these loving surprises as hostile and awful. My husband hates surprises, too. So do my parents. We're all too controlling for surprises. Thankfully my husband knows this, so for Valentine's Day he gave me a copy of "A New Earth," the book on which Oprah's 10-week, worldwide interactive class will be based. The class -- or party, as Oprah calls it -- was actually promo'ed on the Valentine's show. Still not sure this is gonna be a party, though. The subtitle is "Awakening Your Life's Purpose." What if my life's purpose is to be a clerk-typist or a carpet installer? Then it won't be much of a party for me, will it?
Lastly, I have to say I'm so jealous of the guy who got Oprah's wrong-number call in the 80s and ended up chatting with her for 15 minutes. Even though Oprah didn't remember talking to the guy, I'm almost more jealous of him than I am of Gayle.
I Hate Money
Wouldn't you know the first one of these things I have to do is about money? In my quest to do whatever Oprah says, I find myself having to do whatever financial strongwoman Suze Orman says, and I hate this kind of thing. I hate money. I like spending it, sure, but ever since my father told a store clerk to deliberately shortchange me, so as to teach me a lesson about being careless with money -- really sucked the joy out of my little-girl shopping spree, let me tell ya -- I've resented any scolding authority figure harping on financial responsiblity. Besides, I'm no good with numbers. I don't want to add and subtract. But on Wednesday's show (Feb. 13), Oprah called it "financial suicide" not to face the facts and figures of one's financial reality, and so I must.
Suze Orman seems in some ways to be a lot like Oprah -- sharp and no-bullshit -- but meaner and with better math SATs. If I were Suze Orman's best friend, would she let me copy her algebra? Doubt it. Anyway on Wednesday's "Oprah," Suze was brought in to help out Sylvia, recently widowed and left to fend for her four young kids by a spiteful jerk who quit paying the bills, the mortgage, and his life insurance premiums right before offing himself in the garage. Sylvia never thought she and her husband would have money problems, even though he was aggressively shopaholic. She was too, it turns out, her large house filled to busting with oddball bricbrac and jeans bought on credit.
Suze began with a quick tally: On the day after the suicide, Sylvia had $72 in her checking account, but no savings, no piggybank change squirreled around the house, no retirement fund. She still owed $352,000 on the house and had a home equity line of credit close to $100,000. Her credit card debt was about $17,000, and the late husband's was maybe $40,000.
So what did Suze have Sylvia do first? Wash her face. I told you Suze was mean. It's going to be hard enough to face the girm reality of being left broke and broken by an abusive asshole, but now this woman's supposed to face it on TV without lipstick? That struck me as excessive.. Nonetheless I took myself to the sink and removed my own makeup. I don't care what Suze Orman says. We aren't prettier without it.
Suze then sat Sylvia down at the kitchen table with a big stack of bills, breaking them down by category. Just to keep the household going, it's going to cost her almost five grand a month, not counting gasoline and food. She had auto insurance but no medical, dental or disability for herself (perhaps none for the kids, either). Suze sent a chill down my spine by saying, "If we asked the women in this audience how much it actually costs them per month to live, it's probably $1,500 to $3,000 more (than they think )." This forced me to sit down with my own stack of bills. Turns out my total monthly expenses are even HIGHER than Sylvia's. Crap.
Then Suze recommended Sylvia sell her five-bedroom mini-manse and move to a one-bedroom apartment. Astonishingly she made it sound like it would be good for them all. I wonder when the last time Suze had to share a bathroom with a young boy. My own son has a knack for making any bathroom less hygienic than a Mobil station men's room.
Suze Orman seems in some ways to be a lot like Oprah -- sharp and no-bullshit -- but meaner and with better math SATs. If I were Suze Orman's best friend, would she let me copy her algebra? Doubt it. Anyway on Wednesday's "Oprah," Suze was brought in to help out Sylvia, recently widowed and left to fend for her four young kids by a spiteful jerk who quit paying the bills, the mortgage, and his life insurance premiums right before offing himself in the garage. Sylvia never thought she and her husband would have money problems, even though he was aggressively shopaholic. She was too, it turns out, her large house filled to busting with oddball bricbrac and jeans bought on credit.
Suze began with a quick tally: On the day after the suicide, Sylvia had $72 in her checking account, but no savings, no piggybank change squirreled around the house, no retirement fund. She still owed $352,000 on the house and had a home equity line of credit close to $100,000. Her credit card debt was about $17,000, and the late husband's was maybe $40,000.
So what did Suze have Sylvia do first? Wash her face. I told you Suze was mean. It's going to be hard enough to face the girm reality of being left broke and broken by an abusive asshole, but now this woman's supposed to face it on TV without lipstick? That struck me as excessive.. Nonetheless I took myself to the sink and removed my own makeup. I don't care what Suze Orman says. We aren't prettier without it.
Suze then sat Sylvia down at the kitchen table with a big stack of bills, breaking them down by category. Just to keep the household going, it's going to cost her almost five grand a month, not counting gasoline and food. She had auto insurance but no medical, dental or disability for herself (perhaps none for the kids, either). Suze sent a chill down my spine by saying, "If we asked the women in this audience how much it actually costs them per month to live, it's probably $1,500 to $3,000 more (than they think )." This forced me to sit down with my own stack of bills. Turns out my total monthly expenses are even HIGHER than Sylvia's. Crap.
Then Suze recommended Sylvia sell her five-bedroom mini-manse and move to a one-bedroom apartment. Astonishingly she made it sound like it would be good for them all. I wonder when the last time Suze had to share a bathroom with a young boy. My own son has a knack for making any bathroom less hygienic than a Mobil station men's room.
Suze then hauled in Sylvia's family and challenged them to help her with money (not loans), babysitting and even cooking while she gets back on her feet. You need one tough broad to convince people it's a "privilege" to help a down-and-out relative. I wonder how many homeless there'd be if Suze was around to bully the derelict's loved ones into lending a hand.
But Suze won me over by offering her book, "Women and Money," with its chapter on how to save your own life financially, absolutely FREE for a limited time via Oprah.com. Oprah says the offer comes right from Suze's heart. But only until 5 p.m., Pacific Time, Feb. 14. Then Suze's heart goes right back to covering up her algebra homework.
But Suze won me over by offering her book, "Women and Money," with its chapter on how to save your own life financially, absolutely FREE for a limited time via Oprah.com. Oprah says the offer comes right from Suze's heart. But only until 5 p.m., Pacific Time, Feb. 14. Then Suze's heart goes right back to covering up her algebra homework.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
This year, every day, whatever Oprah says to do on her show--I'm doing it. I've already started, kind of. This past Christmas I did something I'd never done before. I bought a camera because Oprah had it on her show. In the past when I had a significant purchase to make, I'd trudge down to the library for a Consumer Reports magazine. Never before would I have allowed my decision to be influenced -- uh-uh, determined -- by a mere talkshow host. Any host waving consumer goods had to be on the take, right? Aren't they all getting greased for their endorsements?. But Oprah's different. She so transcends the role of "host." She manages to be far better than us and yet one of us, and she'd never steer her girlfriends wrong. I mean, forget that crap with "A Million Little Pieces." Who among us hasn't been jerked around by a drug addict? The fact that Oprah got hoodwinked only made us feel more commonality. Oprah you can rely upon. Oprah you can take to the bank. As a matter of fact, when I was in the Burbank Target, studying the suprisingly low-info content of the Flip camera's packaging, I noticed I had company. Just as I had dragged my husband to Electronics because I saw this great thing on Oprah, there was another woman, my mirror image, explaining the same reasoning to husband, who had the nerve to ask, What does Oprah know about cameras? Little did he know the compelling power of Oprah's full-throated enthusiasm.
Side note, I've started to really like it when Oprah bellows with emphasis on the unexpected syllables. "Wel-COME. John Tra-vol-TAH!" You know what I'm talking about. "The See-CRET!" And in the case of the Flip camera, "I love THIS!"
Truth is, I've always liked Oprah, but I was never what you'd call hardcore. I'd watch when I was home sick, but I didn't ditch work so I could go see her when she did her show from Los Angeles or anything (although I wouldn't mind being there when she gives away "Oprah's favorite things.") I didn't join a book club. I didn't go to South Africa for the grand opening of the Girls Academy. I don't even watch every day. Geez, the show's been on so long that if I'd been watching the whole time, she'd have cause to get a restraining order.
But lately I find myself turning to Oprah more and more. Maybe it's solidarity of all women who've ever struggled with their weight. Maybe it's because we're sort of suprised and happy she's still around the way we're sort of surprised and happy we're still around ourselves. Maybe it's the communion of the proudly perimenopausal. I have to admit being inordinatey pleased to learn that Oprah, like myself, had a little issue going with a sluggish thyroid. If you have to have a tricky endocrine problem, sharing it with the most respected woman in America takes some of the sting out.
A while back, Oprah started having giant freeway billboards annnouncing what's coming up on the show. The topics captivated me and started TiVoing. How do they keep those billboards up to date, anyway? I picture crews of dedicated billboard people climbing their ladders in the dead of night so we all know that on WEDNESDAY, Oprah's going to have CHILDREN OF SPERM DONORS. Oh wait, she's bumping that one till Thursday, so scurry back up the ladder and change it to OPRAH'S GREAT AMERICAN HAIRCUT.
Instead of scoffing, I found myself really wanting to know what this haircut would look like. I wanted to hear what Barack Obama had to say. I wanted to know how the children of sperm donors felt. I wanted to see what kind of jeans gave you a nice booty. So Iate last year I got myself an Oprah Season Pass.
A couple months later we were beginning a new year. Oprah declared 2008 the year of the Best Life Challenge, innaugurating a nationwide revolution of weight loss and healthy living, extending the invitation to join her on the fat-burning journey, even offering her personal trainer, Bob Greene. That's pretty nice, when somebody shares their personal trainer with you. I don't know if Dr. Oz is her personal doctor, but I wouldn't be surprised. Wasn't Dr. Phil her personal lawyer? There's a giggly intimacy between Dr. Oz and Oprah that makes me think he's seen her naked. I mean, naked as in, Do you think I need to do something about these hemmorhoids? I swear I think she said on TV recently that she called Dr. Oz because she'd just taken a crap the size of baby. A bay-BEE. That called for a real good bellow.
Oprah's even letting us in on her secret weapon, the winsome decorator Nate, who you know she has a gay-boy crush on. And of course, there's Gayle, the best friend. Johnny Carson was in my home every night from elementary school through honeymoon, and I had no idea who he was friends with. I'm so used to seeing David Letterman when I'm in bed that I kept him on while I was in the hospital going through labor, and I still can't even picture him with a friend. But Oprah is more than happy to trot out Gayle, her BFF, the one person I wish she'd keep in her Rolodex.
Here's the thing. I'm jealous of Gayle. I just don't get what's so great about Gayle. She's not that smart. She's not that funny. She's a bad singer. She eats too much. I do too, and yet do you see me running around the country on a road trip with Oprah?
Here's the thing. I'm jealous of Gayle. I just don't get what's so great about Gayle. She's not that smart. She's not that funny. She's a bad singer. She eats too much. I do too, and yet do you see me running around the country on a road trip with Oprah?
Did Oprah bring me for a life-changing week at Canyon Ranch? Does my MySpace page say, "Linda, Oprah's Best Friend?" The internet says Gayle's more than just a "friend," but I don't know. Perhaps there are other middle-aged women out there who are jealous of Gayle, and that's why they spread those rumors. I wonder if there are men out there who feel that way about Steadman.
Anyway from Dr. Phil to "In the Kitchen with Rosie," the Chambers catalogue and Oprah's Book Club, Oprah has a long tradition of wanting to help us, save us, fix us. And even though it's a little late for New Year's resolutions, I've decided to spend 2008 being helped, saved and fixed by Oprah. I pledge to watch the Oprah Winfrey show every day and do exactly what she says. If she's got an organizational expert on, saying you have to clean up your clutter, then I'm going to declutter. If she's got Dr. Oz admonishing everyone to drink acai juice (ew) and do 20 minutes of cardio three times a week, then just try to keep me off the bike. If she's sent Suze Orman out to yell at some weepy credit-card profligate, then bye-bye, Linda's debt.
But if she wants us all to run out and get some $700 Christian Louboutins because they're all she's wearing these days, then I'm going to have a problem. After all, Oprah, who is renowned for tucking great presents under the seats of every member of the studio audience, only gave away two pair on a show I saw recently. Nonetheless, if Oprah decrees that we must all shod our tootsies in Louboutins, then I pledge to educate myself and every reader I have about the shoes Oprah adores. I might even go out and take a picture of them, soles all red and shiny in the window of some store in Beverly Hills that has better security than George Bush.
And if like today she's got a reunion of the "Cosby" kids, then I get to tell you that before I had the sound on, I recognized the one who played Rudy and remembered her name is Keisha and she's somehow related to Gladys Knight. I'm actually pretty grateful this was one of Oprah's fluffier installments. Oprah's out to challenge us, and unfortunately for me it's not always gonna be '80s sitcom trivia.. She's already got people signed up for the Eckhart Tolle online class. That's not till March, and I'm already dreading it. But Oprah believes in it, so I must too. Worse for me, she and Bob Greene want people to make a serious commitment this year to health and fitness, which are just nice ways of saying, Give up food you like and exchange your leisure time for sweating. But if Oprah says to do it, then I have to do it. I'm also going to make note of how little effort I expect Gayle will be making compared to me. I only hope this opens Oprah's eyes to the fact that I'd make a much more deserving BFF.
And if like today she's got a reunion of the "Cosby" kids, then I get to tell you that before I had the sound on, I recognized the one who played Rudy and remembered her name is Keisha and she's somehow related to Gladys Knight. I'm actually pretty grateful this was one of Oprah's fluffier installments. Oprah's out to challenge us, and unfortunately for me it's not always gonna be '80s sitcom trivia.. She's already got people signed up for the Eckhart Tolle online class. That's not till March, and I'm already dreading it. But Oprah believes in it, so I must too. Worse for me, she and Bob Greene want people to make a serious commitment this year to health and fitness, which are just nice ways of saying, Give up food you like and exchange your leisure time for sweating. But if Oprah says to do it, then I have to do it. I'm also going to make note of how little effort I expect Gayle will be making compared to me. I only hope this opens Oprah's eyes to the fact that I'd make a much more deserving BFF.
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