I'll fill in the blanks

So, I was asked in an aside email what I was doing on Oprah. Well, it was back in the day when we landed in Belgrade after a 6 year stint in AZ. I had left a wonderful job behind, so that Kenga could get one in Bozeman. It was a hard move. I was at home a lot. I was looking for another job. I was watching far too much daytime tv.

Last time I was unemployed (read a couple of months ago), the rule was NO daytime tv, unless it was in movie form. I kept to it too.

Anyway, in Belgrade, there aren't a lot of free tv options during the day. I also was reading lots of books. So Oprah had this book club thingy, and I decided to read the book. And then I wrote into her site about the book. My last official book report, so to speak. And then the producers called me. Now, see, I can talk about books for hours. I'm a pip at a book club meeting if you actually want to discuss the book. Otherwise count me out- I'll get pissy if I read the book and no one else did. That's not the point of a fucking book club, people!

Anyway, the producers seemed to like me, and they called me and asked me on the show. Of course, I accepted. I was bored, and it was a free trip! I flew out to Vermont, where they taped the show, and was bumped to first class the whole way. A stretch limo picked me up at the airport (it was like a very lonely and taffeta-free prom night) and delivered me to an inn. The other ladies were there, Oprah was in another inn nearby.

We had makeup the next morning very early, and were presented to our hostess. It was a fun day of filming, eating, listening to the director- learning to turn off the microphone when going to the can, and watching to make sure that we weren't chewing too broadly on camera (they were filming us at breakfast). My family all taped the episode, and my grandfather took still shots of it. Somewhere in the house I still have tapes of it. I haven't watched since it aired, though. I think I look kinda ...well...I dunno. Unreal. Not really me. Very edited. Nice and all, but unreal.

So that is the Oprah story. No Dr. Phil (that fucking tool) involved. No crisis. No need to fix my life. No free swag other than a leather-bound edition of the book, some pyjamas and a book bag. No free car, dammit. But a free trip to Vermont, yes.