Wednesday, January 07, 2009

If I were Oprah

A lunchtime conversation between myself and my work buddy:

Her: Hmmm. Have you heard about Oprah? She's depressed.
Me: And why would that be?
Her: Well. You know, she's almost 200 pounds now.
Me: So what's the deal with that? The woman has a personal chef, does she not?
Her: Well sure. But she's probably like, "I want macaroni and cheese, NOW!"
Me: True.
Her: Plus her dog died. In an accident.
Me: How?
Her: Choked on a ball. It was the wrong kind of ball, apparently.
Me: That sucks. So she's depressed about the dog?
Her: Well I don't know. Can you imagine though? I bet her dog walker was, like, banished to an island somewhere. People are probably like, "Ooh, didn't Oprah fire you?"
Me: Hahaha... Yeah. She probably had him killed.
Her: Yeah. He's probably buried in the backyard.
Me: Yeah. And no one cares because she paid them off.
Her: Hahaha...
Me: So why is she 200 pounds? Doesn't she have a personal trainer?
Her: Yeah, but she probably fired them. "Fuck you, I'm not working out!"
Me: Dude. She so has no excuse. I mean, I have no excuse, but she really has no excuse.
Her: Seriously. She probably has a whole gym and a pool and everything. The trainer probably comes to her house.
Me: Totally. If I were Oprah, I'd be working out every day. I mean, you're on TV like every day.
Her: Yup.
Me: And personal chefs can make healthy food that tastes good. If I were Oprah, I'd just have him make me some healthy shit that tastes good.
Her: Mmmhmmm. If I were Oprah, I'd have a Starbucks barista in my house.
Me: Sure, why not? Dude there's nowhere to park.
Her: Just park right there.
Me: You can't park there.
Her: Sure you can. Just act like you own the place. I'll tell them we're with the management.
Me: All right.
Her: Stop turning red.
Me: Argh.
Her: Grande decaf soy vanilla latte please!


  1. Windshield Rosary and I saw Bob Greene, Oprah's trainer, the other day on Larry King. The only thing that we caught was that he said that he has been her trainer for 14 years.

  2. 14 years?? What's with all the rollercoaster weight then? Up, down, up down. I can imagine I would have abs like rocks. Rocks I tell you.