Speed Dial

I need Dr. Phil on speed dial. Where is that man? I thought he was supposed to be helping me date. I never hear from him. Has he once called or even emailed to ask me how it's going out here in cyber manland? No. Well Doc, it kinda sucks, but don't worry your pretty little head about it, I'm a survivor type.
Perhaps it's all Oprah's fault as she continually tosses her personal gurus out into the general female population. First it was some spiritual cheerleader whose name I've completely forgotten. I never really understood a word he said or wrote anyway. I guess everyone else did because his books became best sellers. I'm a spritual dunce as a result. Next Suzie Orman, a financial planning wizard for all of us flagrant nonplanners. She tried, but she made me so nervous about my future I would sweat every time she came on the screen. Suzie darling, you have to make money to save money. Besides , I think I can fit all my possessions in a shopping cart. Along comes Dr. Phil because of beef, or a hamburger, or a herd of cattle . I haven't eaten a piece of red meat in 40 years , so again I'm miffed. He is a feisty guy however, who I can never find. And last but not least we have been tossed Dr. Ahmet Oz, cardiovascular surgeon who appeared on my tv holding a colon in one hand and kidney in the other. You rock, is all I can say.

Now don't get me wrong, Oprah is pretty freaking amazing; I have no idea how to become so successful. I'm not blaming her for any of my spiritual, dating, or health issues, after all I'm the master of my one bedroom kingdom. It's way too small for a plane, cook, personal trainer, driver, large pile of cash or Stedman (he's quite tall and may I add Oprah, a very nice touch). She did make me think nostagically about my little red leather diary. I wonder if my mom threw it away. Oprah is really big on journals. Come to think of it I loved my little diary. "Dear Diary, I want a pony." "Dear Diary, I don't need a bra yet, but I'd like one ." "Dear Diary ,I wish my mom would let me shave my legs". "Dear Diary, I wish my husband wouldn't cheat on me" "Dear Diary, I'd like to kill his divorce attorney"." "Dear Diary, I lost my job." "Dear Diary, there are just too many bills." "Dear Diary, paid the bills, got a job, raised a son, but my chin line is sagging" "Dear Diary , I'm more than half way through my life." "Dear Diary, where did it go, and have you heard from Dr. Phil!?"