One of my very dearest friends has recently gotten hooked on some Oprah bullshit called Oprah's Lifeclass. This friend, whom we will call Easy E, is pretty much the same person as me-- if you took me, put makeup on me EVERY GODDAMN DAY EVEN WHEN I HAVE THE FLU OR AM JUST FEELING SO LAZY I DON'T CARE ABOUT LIPSTICK, dressed me in The Loft, gave me a filter, and erased my proclivity for swearing. (You may be thinking, "Dear Lord, what's LEFT?" but there is a lot left. I promise. Oh, yeah, she's ALWAYS sober too. Hmmmmm. Maybe there ISN'T much left, now that I think about it. Anyway.) The point is, she's not one to fall for a bunch of sappy, Go Life! inspirational shit. She's hardcore. She's street. JUST LIKE ME. Well, just like me in dressier clothes and likely voting Republican.
So when Easy E got all caught up in Oprah, my first thought was, "Holy Fuck. I knew moving away from me was a BAD DAMN CHOICE FOR E. Those goddamn other Moms have BRAINWASHED HER. CODE RED! CODE RED!"
Now, don't get me wrong. I have the utmost respect for Oprah-- God knows she's done more with her life than I will likely ever do. I'm not dissing Madame O. However, I, myself, can't watch her on tv or read her magazine or any of that crap. It's just too fucking depressing to witness someone who has their shit together as much as she does. I mean, think about it. IT MAKES ME HATE MYSELF. And frankly, I don't like goody-goodys. And Oprah is nothing if not a goody-goody.
But E swore that this Oprah's Lifeclass was so inspiring and eye-opening and whatnot that this afternoon when I stumbled across it while I was ironing B's bazillion dress shirts (this promotion has him looking pretty sexy these days) I actually decided to watch and see what it was all about. And I did. For nearly an hour I listened to Oprah wax poetic about LIVING IN THE MOMENT and ENJOYING THE PRESENT. Blah blah blah. And it led me to give myself a little test-- tonight I would TRY this LIVING IN THE MOMENT crap and see how it went for me. I'm the world's worst about being off somewhere else in my head while everything else is going on around me, so made the conscious decision that tonight would be different. B was in class, the kids were home for a long weekend, LET THE OPRAH ROLL.
Item 1 on the LIVING IN THE MOMENT LIST: Feed the kids something fun. The kids were in their rooms. I called and ordered pizza. (Note: I NEVER order pizza. Pizza DESTROYS my blood sugar. Pizza isn't the healthiest choice for a kid meal, and we try to feed the minions healthy. I spent an hour on the elliptical today burning calories that pizza will LAUGH AT AND RE-HANG MIGHTILY ON MY HIPS. Me, ordering pizza, is a pretty big fucking deal.) Because I never order pizza, I do not have a "standard" pizza establishment from which I order, so I googled Pizza Hut on my phone, put in the ZIP code and called the number it gave. After placing the order, I ran upstairs and said to the kids, "Put your shoes on, we have to go pick up the PIZZA MOMMY ORDERED!" I waited, expecting applause.
Sutt cheered. (I LOVE that kid.) Bellamy rolled her eyes and said, "Why do we have to go GET it? Can't someone BRING IT TO US?"
I cheerfully tickled her and told her nope, we were going to go get it. Five minutes later we headed out the door. Driving down the street, the kids and I danced in the car. We sang to the radio. It took a lot of fucking energy, but I WAS HAPPY. HIP HIP HOORAY. I'M IN THE FUCKING MOMENT. We got to Pizza Hut and the kids tumbled out of the car. We all hurried in and went to the carryout counter, happy and hungry.
Turns out, it was the WRONG FUCKING PIZZA HUT.
Yep. That's right. When I googled it, I didn't check the address. I just assumed that one was the one I was calling because I thought it was the closest. It wasn't.
The chick working inside directed me to the OTHER Pizza Hut, the one we THOUGHT I had ordered from. It was just down the street. Dashing back to the car, we all climbed in and drove to the Pizza Hut in Portsmouth.
Turns out, it too was the WRONG FUCKING PIZZA HUT.
By this point, I'm pissed. It's dark outside, the kids are starving and fighting and I WANT TO FUCKING TEAR OPRAH'S "EMBRACE THE PRESENT" WEAVE OUT AND STRANGLE HER WITH IT while shouting, "The present SUCKS, Oprah. Why don't you embrace THAT, bitch?"
We get back in the car and drive to the LAST FUCKING PIZZA HUT I KNOW OF, in Chesapeake. Not knowing exactly where it is, I turn one traffic light too early. We end up in a Bank of America parking lot. The kids are complaining. I am swearing. I go through the bank drive-thru backwards (angering an black woman in a BMW who probably fucking LOVES Oprah), jump the curb, drive over the median (go, Xterra!) and park in the damn lot. I drag both kids inside, as I won't let them sit in the car in the GODDAMN 'HOOD, lest they get carjacked and sold into sexual slavery by some crackhead who lives in College Park. Everyone (most of whom happened to witness my stunt-car driving outside moments before) looks nervous when I enter, mascara smudged, ponytail falling, kids in tow. They have our pizza (HALLELUJAH, JESUS!). We pay and leave. It has now been an entire fucking hour since we left the house.
When we got home, we ate, and I gave the finger to embracing the present.
You can take your present and shove it, Oprah. I'm done here.