Thursday, March 18, 2010

I dream of Oprah

Time for some positive energy today, courtesy the Diet Coke I just guzzled. I love you, caffeine. I love you so much. In fact, I'm sure that some day soon, I will devote an entire post to you. For now, however, I shall instead think as positively positive as possible. Put good feelings out into the universe and all that $#%%. Because this post is for Oprah. In the not-too-distant future. After she's read my book and loved it as much as she loves turkey bacon and T-shirt sheets. So I'm sorry, dear reader, that this post doesn't meet the clearly delineated “About this blog” description, but what Oprah wants...

Hi Oprah. I just received your note. I'm so glad you enjoyed my book. Brilliant? Well, normally I prefer the word "genius," but what do I know? (Except nearly everything. Fah fah fah.) Anyways. To answer your question, yes, I would happily consent to you selecting my first novel to be in your little book club. I too think it would be beneficial. Especially for you, mais non? Chortle chortle chortle.

Anyhoo, I'm so glad that you think your viewers will be able to identify with my main character. You must have some rather tragic and disturbed devotees -- how wonderful for you. And yes, of course you may include my book on the required reading list at your leadership academy for unfortunate girls in South Africa. My agent wanted me to tell you to please insist that the young ladies wrap the books securely in The New York Times books section to protect the gold inlay cover copy. (It is real gold, you know. From the same South African mine as your toilet seats, as a matter of fact. Small world, n'est pas?)

Finally, yes, I would love to do lunch with you and "my Gail, I mean Stedman." You could have just erased that error, you know. Backspace, delete, cut and what have you.

Oh, Oprah you are too much.

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