Well, this week I’m off to a health retreat, because that’s definitely going to undo the block of mozzarella cheese I’m currently sitting here eating as though it’s an apple. It also brings me one step closer to my ultimate life goal, which I only found out was my ultimate life goal after reading a Harper’s Bazaar profile called “A Day In The Life Of Oprah”.
Ultimate life goal? Oprah’s life.
Let’s unpack this article, shall we?
“7:10 am : This morning, when I hit the blackout shades just after seven, the light was casting its golden glow over the green lawn, with the clouds and ocean in the distance. I watched three geese fly over the backyard and land in the pond. I hadn’t even had a sip of coffee, but it was already a perfect day.”
Oh, Oprah. What a morning you’ve had already. Am I the only one imagining Stedman up at the crack of dawn, wrangling the chosen geese, holding them under a tarp, sweaty and stressed, just waiting for the clock to tick over to 7:10am so that they land at exactly the right time each morning for the sole delight of Queen Oprah’s delicate oiyes? “RELEASE THE GEESE!”
“8:00 A.M. First thing in the morning, I brush my teeth and take the dogs out. There are five of them and everybody’s ready to get out, but I make them wait while I brush my teeth.”
I have to admit – I was surprised she cleans her own teeth. I thought she’d have an offical teeth brusher, like Prince Nazeem of Zamunda (the royal penis is clean your highness). Also, bloody impressive effort by her dogs, waiting to go outside until her oral hygiene routine is complete. Oprah waits for no man, nor canine bowel movement.
She then reads a card from her the 365 grateful truths box today’s one is: ‘Wealth is not measured in dollars and cents, but by the love we make, the laughter we enjoy, the meals we share, the dreams we experience, in the hopes we create.’ Which is fine if you’re a fucking millionaire. P.S. Forbes reported this year, Oprah is worth a casual 2.8 BILLION. So something is getting measured in dollars and cents!
“9:00 A.M. After my meditation, I work out for an hour. I do resistance flexibility, a low-impact strength-training program that involves two, sometimes three, people pushing against you as you push against them. I have stretchers come to my house to help me do it.
Let’s take a second to reflect on this flexibility regime. The stretchers come to her house and move her limbs for her. She’s so rich, she literally will not lift a finger. Three men pushing against her as she lies on the ground, gently moaning…. I’ve got a name for that sex tape. The Colour Purple…Headed Warrior…
Next, an international designer has a trunk show in her lounge room as she picks her favourite things in their upcoming range. It’s sort of like online shopping, but richer and with less fucks given. Then, lunch time. Oprah and Stedman “always try to eat lunch in the garden. We have a rule: If we cannot find it in our garden, then we cannot eat it. Today was an exception; we had fabulous crab cakes flown in from Pappas in Baltimore.” You reaaally blew up your own rule there, Winfrey. Screw the supermarket. If you can’t find it in your own garden, then get it flown in on a private jet. #environment.
After lunch, she takes care of business. “I personally sign all checks over 100 grand. Even on a perfect day, I want to do it. Having grown up poor, I can never completely turn over all my money matters to anyone else. It’s important for me to know how much the electricity bill is, to know what’s coming in, what’s going out.” Good on you, doll. I mean, anything worth under $99,999 is petty cash anyway, so don’t waste your time. (Also, is her electricity bill over $100k? Maybe the geese require extra heating.)
“My perfect evening involves sitting around the fire with family, reading a novel, and drinking herbal tea. I generally prefer reading a novel to watching a movie. I can go for weeks without turning on the TV.” Probs not a good PR move for someone with her own television network, but please, go on, doll. “In the evening, I have a bath before bed; it’s a ritual. I’m a bathing professional—I have different bubble baths, salts, beads, and oils. I was in Provence a couple of summers ago, and I got this pure lavender oil.”
The best part about this article is that she has just flat out said ‘FUCK IT. I’m rich and I’m better than all of you.’ She’s not even pretending to be an everyday woman. I wouldn’t either, I respect that. I’m an everyday woman, and I can tell you: it’s fucking shit some of the time.
For me now, a perfect day is not just one thing; it’s a series of small things. It’s the crisp air on your face when you open the door in the morning, the reflection of mountains and clouds in a crystal lake. It’s paying attention: What does the sky look like? Where’s the sun? When you’re walking down a path, how do your feet feel when they touch the grass? I know what people will say, “Well, Oprah, if I were you, I’d have a perfect day too.” But I’ve earned it: I’ve earned the ability to pay attention to every aspect and detail of the day. I have a great appreciation for the little things that add up to that big thing called a meaningful life.
You fucking have earned it, O. You lap that shit up. You snuggle your geese and your crab cakes tight, because you have worked your tits off for them.
Now I’m off to meditate and shit, because that’ll make up for the second doughnut I’m planning on having after the cheese is done.
It’s a new me, guys!
Hey there, you magnificent humans!
Welcome to the wide web of my world. I love that you’re here because this is now our place. Think of it as the cyber Peach Pitt (cue the sexy sax of the 90210 theme song playing in your head) only without creepy middle-aged Nat and his bung eye. To be fair to Nat, Andrea Zuckerman was about his age playing a high school student and lord knows Dylan was at least forty-five.
This website has been quite some time in the making. To be perfectly honest (and am I ever not?) it has been a herculean task to get it to this point. I’m talking a whole year of negotiations and e-blackmail, laptops smashed against walls, entire IT companies set on fire… But here we bloody are!
There’s a bit of everything here. Merchandise, where you can buy things with my face on them, or things I have written, or things I have helped to design just for you, you fabulous jerks (and I’ll constantly add more. I have SO many ideas). You can Read my weekly blogs, Listen to my songs and audiobook, and learn how to stay tuned for all the f-bombs I almost drop on air every day. Watch all the videos, from clips of my past shows to me becoming best friends with P!nk (whatevs, no biggie). And whenever I have a show with tickets on sale or an announcement to make, this is where it’ll happen.
Also, if you click the little Owl at the top of the page, the whole website goes into DISCO MODE. You heard me. Confetti rains over the page, everything looks shinier. It all gets even more fabulous. It’s like my head has exploded all over your screen.
But there’s more to it, as well.
This website is my place to be me. No boundaries, no parameters, no expectations. I wanted a place that wasn’t Facebook or instagram who try to squash our fun with their filthy algorithms. Think of this page as a sexy hub where my community can come together and get to know one another.
This is where I will come to unleash my rage, or jump for joy, or talk rubbish. Somedays I’ll be irreverent, some days heavy, some days ridiculous. Because that’s human nature; we are all about everything. No one is their exact label 100% of the time, it’s exhausting. I reserve the right to be contradictory and complicated. Everyone is like that, I’m not going to pretend to be anything else.
I’m here to be myself. Join me. The first thing you should do is go HERE and sign up to be a part of the gang. You’ll get everything first, and it’s hard work to start a cult guys so you need to help me out ‘kay?
Click on, glorious ones.
Thanks to the wonderful SeeSaw who saved my website and built my dreams, and to Frida Las Vegas with her loud, colourful hectic designs that reflect my inner mood perfectly.