It's Not Stalking If We're Friends

One of M’s more annoying habits is the drill I like to call “Ten Million Questions”. Last night in the car, she’s all;

“Who do you like better, Oprah or Dr. Phil?”
Seriously, has this child EVER met me? I would think, by this point, my obsession with Miss Winfrey would be pretty obvious to everyone. So I say;
“Duh, OPRAH. I love Oprah.”

And she goes;
“You LOVE Oprah? She’s like 50!”

How dare that like monkey speak disparagingly about my potential future best friend and TV? co-host? So I’m like;
“Yes, I LOVE Oprah. I have loved Oprah since 1988. I loved her when she was fat and I loved her when she was skinny. I loved her when she made over hookers and confronted Baby-Daddies and I loved her when she built a school in South Africa. I loved her when she had big hair, when she had big earrings and when she got a weave. I love her book club and her favorite things and when she pretends to cook and when she has Martha Stewart on and when she and Gayle go on road trips and when she gives us tours of her house. I lover her clothes and I love her fake eyelashes and I love that she’s got ninety two dogs. I love her. I’m going to go on her show one day, you know?”

So then, the Brat formerly known as M says;
“For What? Being a stalker? You’re a freak, Mom.”

So I’m all;
“You don’t even UNDERSTAND. It’s Oprah, okay? She’s more influential than the PRESIDENT. She’s got like a billion dollars and she earned every one of them and she’s lost like a thousand pounds and she is OPRAH.”

And then, my precious angel says;
“I am so writing Oprah a letter about this conversation. I bet she’ll have you on so they can psycho-analyze you.”

Whatever. I’ll be on Oprah and that, that will be the beginning of my destiny as the New Best Friend who Replaced Whatshername. Then me and Op’s will do each others hair and shop for purses and she’ll loan me her awards show dresses and I’ll wear them around the house while I vacuum and everything will be perfect.

Perfect.