TyPrah

I am not an avid Oprah watcher, but every year when her "Favorite Things" episode comes around, you know I'll have my ass planted in front of the TV for what will be the best hour of the year. Why, you ask? It's not because I love the act of giving, or because I think it's amazing that Oprah is such a generous human being and she's so good to give back, blah blah blah. It's because that hour is the only time you will see an audience of 100 women reduced to sniveling, screaming, crying little girls that put the TRL-pack to shame. And the cherry on top of the already crazy sundae is how superior Oprah acts the whole time, "YOU'RE GETTING MY FAVORITE GINGERBREAD COOKIES! YOU'RE GETTING ONE, AND YOU'RE GETTING ONE, AND YOU'RE GETTING ONE" She's a latter day saint in her own mind. But when you think about it, you know the ONLY reason O does this episode is to have 100 women graveling at her feet, "yes Oprah, puhleeze tell me what your favorite things are, and if you'd be so kind as to give some to me?" it's like that scene in Oliver when the little orphan asks, "Please Sir, Can I have some mo?"

"Yes, you can," Oprah replies from her gold-plated throne but not before you're head explodes from sheer excitement.

Never one to pass up an opportunity to act like a shrieking banshee, Tyra Banks took a jab at my favorite hour of TV and continues to convince me that there is nothing she won't do? Mammograms on TV? Sure! Going undercover as a stripper? Sure! Jump around sans brassiere? YOU KNOW IT!