Happy Friday!

This is too funny.

O...my goodness

I just heard on NPR that Oprah is announcing the end of her talk show tomorrow. O's show will run until 2011. I'm not really all that surprised. I read on the Internet a few days ago that the show, at least as we have known it, would be ending soon.

There has been a lot of pressure on O ever since she made plans to start her own (no pun intended) cable network. Things have come to a head. I read that the powers that be basically told her to make the switch to the cable network or the whole thing would die.

Did you know that there was anyone more powerful than Oprah? People tell her what to do? I certainly had no idea. Not that I have any idea what's really going on with Oprah. I have my back story all wrong here but I buy it. How can you have your own cable network but not be on that network?

Listen, I love Oprah as much (more than) the next person but I think the move is a good thing. I dvr the show every day and I have to tell you that Lady O needs something to shake up the show. I'm gettin' bored, y'all. If I see another show about the mermaid girl or those crazy people who hoard things I think I'll vomit. I mean, I'm assuming that Oprah is going to move her show to her network.

I can't imagine that she's going to ride off into the sunset never to be heard from again. Y'all know she ain't done. I wonder what this will mean? Will the advent of her network spell another Oprah renaissance or will she overexpose herself to death? She is pretty amazing at staying relevant. I just wonder if moving to your own cable network will be more than most desperate housewives can stomach. Though, if you can get people to read Anna Karenina, you can get them to drink just about any flavor of Kool-Aid.

happy birthday to me

Yesterday was my birthday. I had the day off. I just couldn't be at work. Not on my birthday. I don't know how people do that. You were born on that day. You should be able to use it however you want. You should do all of your favorite things and be with the people you love. Nobody wants to be with coworkers and talk about spreadsheets or customer service on their damned birthday. Do they? No. I didn't think so.

I'm sitting here at my computer looking over at my coffee table where all of my birthday goodies are staring back at me. It reminds me of Christmas day way back when I was in grade school. After the smoke had cleared from the eating and the gift opening I would call each of my friends to talk about what we got for Christmas.

I'd be sitting there in my room. The turkey and green bean casserole had been eaten. I was so stuffed with food that I could pop. The extra family had gone home. I'd sit on my bed overstimulated from the day and stare at all of my Christmas gifts. I had to talk about all of the clothes and toys I got that morning and everybody in my house was in a turkey coma. So, I'd call a friend and compare notes.

So in the spirit of my 10 year old self... I got a cute cake plate from Crate & Barrel, some snazzy tennis shoes, Breaking Dawn (the fourth book in the Twilight series), the 70th Anniversary edition of Gone With the Wind on DVD, a new digital camera, and Susie Essman's new book. It reminds me of Christmas because dang that's a lot of stuff. I'm also getting a stand mixer but that hasn't arrived yet. You know what else? I ate lunch at Red Lobster (don't laugh! I love it there!) AND I went to see Precious. So, I guess birthdays are big at my house.

Challah!

It's like I work in a Venus Fly Trap. Honest to God. It feels like Miranda's favorite thing to do is to lure you in and then eat you alive, only to spit you out and repeat the drama. I'm not sure what I did to deserve being sentenced to share a room with her for 8 hours a day but I am eternally repentant. The nastiness isn't just for me. Oh, no. Her brand of maliciousness is meant to be shared with others. The distribution of her evil is the only thing that keeps me stable at work. As long as I'm not the only person who has to battle her wrath then chances are pretty good that I'll have a moment to build my strength when she comes for me again.

One of Miranda's favorite things to do is to sit at her desk and watch the live security feed. Just above her desk is a small flat screen monitor that allows her to watch the entire restaurant at a glance. There are around 15 cameras positioned around the restaurant and from her desk she can see everything. When this was a new toy she would spend hours on end scrutinizing every person that she could see. You need to wear a belt on those pants, stop wearing your hat backwards, you always put the trash can too close to the wall, your shirt it too faded, I don't like how you flip an omelet, etc...etc... The list was endless. It was if the walls had eyes. They did and everyone was terrified.

As I've said before, it's incredibly hard to know if Miranda is talking to me when we're in the office together. We're separated (Thank you, God) by some filing cabinets, a printer and a few boxes and shelves. So when she starts talking to the security cameras? It gets a little weird. Is she talking to me? Does she want me to respond? Either way? How on Earth do I go about that?

He's not moving fast enough. He's a slow guy. He's a slow fine dining restaurant guy. He's a smart fine dining restaurant guy...but he's SLOW.

This was her evaluation of a new manager. To me? I'm not all that sure.

She picks up the phone and calls the front desk. She's watching him on the monitor to see how long it takes him to move from wherever he is over to the front desk.

Not fast enough. Come on, come on, come on! She's yelling at the monitor as if she were at OTB betting on horses.

The manager answers the phone. She asks him some inane question.

What's the soup today?

He responds.

Thank you.

Miranda hangs up the phone. She's still watching him though. She's irritated that he isn't moving around the restaurant at what she considers to be the correct speed. She's mumbling about it. I can't make out what she's saying. I can only tell that she is talking to the new guy, through the computer screen. I stand up and take a folder from the shelf above my desk so that I can steal a look at Miranda. Her face is a couple of inches away from the security monitor above her desk. It is clear that she is talking to the new guy as he moves "slowly" across her screen.

She waits for him to move away form the front desk. As soon as he steps away, she dials again.

Answer in less than three rings! Answer in less than three rings! ANSWER IN LESS THAN THREE RINGS!

The phone rings four times.

Do you know how many times the phone rang? It rang FOUR times, new guy. Four. Times. You answer the phone by the third ring. Always.

She hangs up.

He's too slow. I don't know what I'm going to do. HEY!

It's now relatively clear that she is speaking to me.

HEY! You know that you're supposed to answer the phone by the third right, right?

Uh-huh.

Good.

She bounds out of the room and slams the door behind her. Maybe I'll have 4 or 5 minutes to myself. I take a deep breath. I remind myself that what doesn't kill me will make me stronger.
It's like sharing a room with your bipolar older sister. Well, except that your crazy older sister doesn't have a sense of humor and is pretty nasty. I have a whole list of things that I have to get done every single day. It's not that my job is hard, it isn't, but I have a schedule and I have to stay on it. It's hard to focus when you have Dr. Evil watching her cameras and yelling at them over your shoulder.

I ain't that old...am I?

Anybody remember this crap? I was talking about this kid and this song this morning and Andy had NO idea what I was talking about. I think this means I'm old. Somebody please tell me that you remember this. Say it! Your comments are much appreciated. F'real, y'all.

Hungry?

Today is the official start to my birthday week. Maybe it's because of the giant wedding or maybe it's because I'm officially too old to care about celebrating my birthday, but I'm just not into it this year. Usually I have some sort of overwhelming feeling of excitement. The fall is my favorite time of year and things really feel electric for me around my birthday. This year? Not so much. I'm not complaining or gettin' whiny. I'm just not super excited this year. I am, however, having an amazing Paula Deen themed dinner party at my house tonight with some close friends.

I'm having a pot luck where everyone brings a couple of Paula Deen dishes and we eat until we fall asleep or somebody has a butter overdose. We're going to have cheeseburger meatloaf, pork tenderloin, black eyed peas, greens, fried okra, sweet potatoes, mac & cheese, corn bake, corn bread and a lame little spinach salad. I'm basically doing my best to recreate the buffet at Paula's restaurant in Savannah. Then, we'll finish off with a little banana pudding and birthday cake. I have a feeling that we'll all be asleep by 10 pm. I mean that's a lot of food, y'all!

My love for Paula Deen came a couple of years ago when I read her autobiography It Ain't All About the Cookin'. Long story short, Paula suffered from anxiety, specifically agoraphobia for about 20 years before she became the Paula Deen that you see today. I haven't really talked about it on the blog but I've had my own battle with anxiety and depression.

By the time Paula was 20 both of her parents were dead, she was married with children and she had her younger brother to take care of. The sudden death of her parents left her terrified of death in a way that basically left her debilitated. I can't in any way claim to have had the same struggles but my mother and brother died when I was very young. I didn't immediately suffer from anxiety but death has definitely colored my life. I too had a period in my life where I had a hard time getting out of bed or leaving the house. Going to the store could set off a panic attack.

I could go on about things that I've experienced or my own fear of death. I mean, hello, my mother died at 35 and I'm turning 34 this week. BUT! This week, my birthday, tonight? I'm celebrating turning over a new leaf. I've become interested in the healing power of food. People like Paula Deen (and there are others) are fascinating to me because of the way that they have used food to transform their lives. I find Paula's courage inspirational. I don't mean to make any of this sound bigger than what it is but tonight, for my birthday, I celebrate that. Wow. I think I just got excited about my birthday.

$20.12

Am I the only person that finds this terrifying? I'm sorry that I keep going with the political stuff this week but...y'all? This stuff is scary. This woman is going to run for president. And while we're all laughing and slapping our knees and thinking that it's funny? She's actually endearing herself to some folks. She's not to be ignored. Does anyone remember GWB? This isn't funny.

The thing that gets me upset more than anything about Sarah (and Carrie) is the arrogance. Part of being a person in the spotlight is having to answer things like...why the settlement and what publications do you read. These questions aren't unfair or biased or rigged. They're simple. My issue isn't the devotion to the GOP.
My trouble is the defensive attitude. People get to ask you questions! They get to ask you questions that you don't like. That's why it's called an interview and not a massage.

Though the clips from Oprah look like Sarah has been working on killing the jackassery. But...you have to have your shit together to talk to Oprah. Oprah's got mad power. She could make you disappear if she wanted. I'm interested to see how the interview goes next week. It's on Monday, November 16th in case you're interested. I'll be watching. Though, I might have to watch with a stress ball and a glass of gin. Sarah makes me nervous.

Anderson's response!

ASS HAT! SHE'S AN ASS HAT!

ASS HAT

Religious discrimination?

This girl is an ass hat. First off I have a hard time buying the whole victim thing from someone who has naked pictures of themselves AND a masturbation video. AND THEN GOES ON NATIONAL TV TO PROMOTE HER BOOK. ASS! You're an ass! You can have any opinion you want...but you can't act like a four year old when people want to talk to you about it. She clearly does think of Palin as a hero if she can't talk about her settlement like an adult. It really irritates me when people make these decisions...settlements and so forth...and then get all high and mighty when their actions turn out to make them look like jackasses. YOU'RE A JACKASS. You don't have morals or principles. Deal with it and go away.

And religious discrimination? It's pretty arrogant of any American to claim religious discrimination. It's idiotic, really. I also think it's hilarious. Well...considering that there are some crazy puritanical Christians running around causing a lot of drama these days.

She's an ass hat.

Homos are just like us.

I just thought of a brilliant idea. Gay people clearly need help in the PR department. I mean, if we can't get anybody to let us get married? We've got to try something right? I propose a marketing campaign. You know, something that will show gay folks in a good light. I would image that it's mostly the perception of what gay people "are" and what we do that really gets people nervous. They think we're a bunch of Cosmo guzzling, hooker buying, coke snorting sex maniacs. You'd only need to follow me around for a weekend of Oprah and LOST reruns to see that we're pretty lame as a people.

I think the best thing for us to do is do a "homos...they're just like us" feature each week in The New York Times and maybe People magazine. It could be just like the Stars: they're just like us feature in US Weekly. You know...the section that shows celebrities doing some completely inane activity as if it were shocking? They'll say things like...Ellen Degeneres takes out the trash! Next to the headline will be a picture of Ellen in her sweat pants and softball tshirt taking out a trash bag.

It would be just like that but there would be random gay people in compromising everyday situations. Like, Jeremy Owens picks up dog poop! There would be a picture of me with my dog waiting on her to poop. OR! Barney Frank could be out to eat at Chick-fil-a. You know, something completely simple and silly like that.

If we had a professional photographer? He could take a picture of us right now. Andy just made us HUGE salads. It could say something cleaver like...Homos! THEY EAT SALAD! Maybe I shouldn't poke fun, but I can't help it. When I read the news lately it gets me really upset. Gay people can't get married. Some can't adopt. People are saying all sorts of hateful things. Of all of the things that I am, I would hope that being gay would be the last thing mentioned. I'm so much more than that. We're all so much more than who we choose to share our lives with.