Dear Oprah,

Dear Oprah,




I do not know how this happened-but somehow I missed the opportunity to compete against other Oprah fans for the opportunity of receiving my own show. Surely, you sent out a memo or sent me a letter personally, and I intend on having some serious WORDS with my postal carrier because the memo was not received. As a true fan of yours, and one that has very real intentions of subscribing to O Magazine and checking with my cable company to see how far back the O network will set me, I feel like I deserve another shot.

You are probably asking yourself “Why should I give this beautiful, talented, hilarious and persuasive woman a second chance?" Let me tell you why. Currently I am not entirely satisfied in with middle class existence. I would prefer to drink more expensive wine and trade date night at Applebee’s in for something a little more French and less chain. I would like to be able to replace my whole roof instead of deciding which rooms it is ok for it to rain in. I have tried to use a round brush on my limp (yet full of potential) hair with no success and there for can think of no other option than to have a stylist. I cannot do this on the slightly shy of $30,000 that I make yearly.

Right now I am considering a few career changes. I have thought about contacting the Bravo network to see if they need a new Top Chef Judge because I am an excellent eater. I sent a resume to Hugh Heffner because I hear he is looking for a new girlfriend and it just so happens that I have recently gone blonde and I applied for the Real World but apparently I am too old and cannot bring my family with me- something about it not being appropriate to have a 3 year old living with 7 drunken 20 year olds. Oprah, I want you to know that if any of my other job interests pan out- I would pick yours first. I actually think I could host your show during the day and judge Top Chef at night, so there is that option as well.

In conclusion, don’t feel bad about my hearing about the job after the fact. We all make mistakes. I once bounced a $2.47 check for a cup of soup. I am not angry with you and I completely understand that you are busy. Take this as an opportunity to make things right. I can start anytime and my salary requirements are negotiable.

Thank you for your time. I look forward to hearing from you.



The One and Only

Morgan Urso

Where the F was I????

 I was watching Entertainment Tonight Monday evening in preparation of the big Dancing with the Stars premier- and there was a segment about Oprah's new show- in which contestants compete for their own television talk show on the O network.  I sprung out of "lounge" pose- straight into "where the f*** was I pose" which is sitting straight up- wine spilling onto my sheets and chin dropped revealing my stained red tongue.  How can this be?  How can there be an opportunity, so clearly put on this planet for ME and I some how missed it.
What was I doing when this announcement was made? And where were my so called friends when they heard of this opportunity?  Something was not right.  Sadly, I was probably potty training, doing dishes, or entering data when the opportunity for greatness presented by the Queen herself passed me by.

Now I am left with the "doing it all on my own" a.k.a "greatness not being handed to me on a silver platter".  I am forced to "work hard" and "start at the bottom".  And all the other crap that I am not interested in. 

So dear friends, readers and stalkers (OMG that would be so cool) please, when you hear of an opportunity like this, one in which I could be catapulted into fame and fortune, pick up the phone and call me.  You will probably get my answering machine.  Do not leave me a message- I do not know how to check them.  Try my cell- again you will get an answering machine- it will still have the last owners voice message- don't bother leaving me one as I have forgotten my pin.  Instead come by my house- knock three times and scream "Oprah" so that I know it is you and not the vacuum cleaner salesman that I made an appointment with and then changed my mind-there for I am pretending to be dead to avoid having to hurt his feelings.  Don't let me down folks...I need this.

The Lake Monster

I just returned to the real world from a much needed vacation.  This is the time of year that Eccentric Uncle B comes to VT to escape the hustle and bustle of Brooklyn.  You may remember him from last years post "Boxers In Branches".  If not, let me re cap.  Uncle B is the strangest man on the planet.  He washes his clothes every night in the sink with a bar of soap and then decorates the house with sopping wet under shorts.  He permanently smells of moth balls and he has read  every book ever written and watched every movie ever made- most likely on VHS. 

This time I was able to witness a few more quirks that I must have shut out last year.  For example, Uncle B did not particularly care for the creamer that I bought- so instead of using milk and sugar like the rest of the civilized world would do- he decided to sweeten his coffee with Maple Walnut ice cream.  This meant that ever second sip was followed by the crunching of...yes, a walnut.  Nothing like floating nuts in your coffee to start your day off. 

Another Uncle B-ism is his constant discussions of the unknown species.  He asked every visitor that we had- if they had ever seen Big Foot or Thunder Bird.  When disappointed with their negative replies he would fish for something- a cougar? a bear? a giant prehistoric turtle?

Due to severe lack of pigmentation Uncle B makes sure to cover up in the sun.  Not only does he sit in the shade- but at one point he wore a camouflaged visor underneath a straw hat.  When questioned, he explained that the visor was for the glare and the hat was (to embarrass me) for the bald spot on the top of his pasty head.

When in Rome- Do as the Romans Do- I think this is Uncle B's motto while he is here, however apparently he thinks the people of Lake Dunmore bath in the lake - and this includes shaving.  At 9 in the morning I would sit on the screened in porch and watch my 65 year old uncle - with his perky pencil eraser nipples, shaving his face in water up to his knobby knees. 

In efforts to stay on an exercise regime while on vacation I dragged Uncle B on a hike one morning before I even allowed him to have his walnut coffee.  Apparently vigorous exercise was all he needed because instead of a heaping cup of coffee when we got off the trail at ten AM he found a glass of Merlot to be more satisfying.

I really have a thousand other quirky things I could tell you- like his love of Haitian people and disdain for "the Mexicans".  Or about how he doesn't use a pillow case when he has a perfectly good Tee shirt to stuff a pillow in.  I could tell you about his love for his cats Little Miss Audrey and Junior- or about how he has the appetite of a 17 year old Olympian....But for now I will leave you with this.  As strange as he is, he is one of a kind and I wouldn't trade him for anyone else...unless that someone were really rich and I was their only beneficiary :-)