Oprah is not allowed in my house. Yes, yes, I understand that as the most powerful woman in the world, she could probably buy me off or pay somebody to force all of my TVs to play the Oprah Show all day on every channel, but assuming she leaves it my decision (and my wife goes along with it), I forbid Oprah from being here.
So, since I don't watch Entertainment Tonight either, I had not seen Oprah in quite sometime. Lo and behold, it turns out that she has her own magazine, and on top of that, she has infiltrated the Lowe's Home store off of 151 and 410. WTF!? Sweet sister of Frances in cut-offs and heels; now this lady has invaded the domain of all that is manliness.
So I am standing there in line purchasing some paint for my wife to get busy with this weekend, and staring me in the face at eye-level is Oprah, and she looks like a semi-slim caricature of herself. And, quite frankly, she looks a little like a hyena.
I have to wonder if this is a lot of air-brush action gone wrong, or does she really look like this when Stedman nudges her out of the bed each morning. Egad!
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