I was planning on keeping this little gem under wraps till I had something worthwhile to say. You know… A joke, an anecdote, perhaps I limerick I came up with whilst being swept away by the beauty that is nature. Then I remembered I was unemployed, poor and had had a falling out with Mother Nature. She caught Father Time copping a feel of my bountiful bosom… I told her it wasn’t what it looked like but you know how she is. Things were said; tsunamis were instigated… now I’m not saying I’m responsible for Nate Berkus’ boyfriend’s death but… wait too soon? I’m half Thai, it happened to MY PEOPLE. Do I have a get out of jail free card? I could really use that $200.
I digress… oh by the way; Nate Berkus is Oprah Winfrey’s interior designer for those of you too grand to stay at home during the day and play drinking games with your dog. 1 shot for every time Oprah relates her over eating to someone else’s problems, no, no, eating is not like cancer Oprah… not unless you’re eating away at the lining of your own stomach; 1 shot and a beer chaser for every time the audience praises Jesus for some sort of present Oprah’s throwing to the less fortunate and finally… (and if I’ve offended you already, wait for it…) a high-5 for every time Oprah starts a school in a 3rd world country and the staff start molesting the students. Like I said… I’m unemployed and have apparently subjected my poor dog to a lifetime of booze and Oprah.
I hate Oprah. You know once I heard she lured bums and hobos… vagrants if you will, to her mansion with crusty cans of baked beans; using them (the vagabond) as foot stools… digging her diamond encrusted heels into their poverty stricken backs; shucking the meat off chicken legs in one fowl swoop… flicking the discarded bones at backs of their heads. You are the devil Oprah… sincerely, you are a devil woman and you frighten me.
