Every once in a while I come across a story that blows out all my circuit breakers. Today, this event has occurred.
Jenny McCarthy has teamed up with Oprah. As I take a deep breath and forge ahead, it brings me physical pain to inform you that McCarthy now has a blog on Oprah’s website and is being groomed for her own talk show. Jenny McCarthy. Oprah. It’s a perfect storm of lunacy.
In my hopes that this was all just a vicious rumor I could easily dispel, I headed over to O’s site only to discover “Jenny McCarthy” on the header, nestled in between “Elizabeth Edwards” and “Take Our Recession Poll.” Currently, Jenny’s blogging about giving up sugar. Which is something I did as well. And it’s only a matter of time before she starts blogging about her son Evan’s autism. That’s something I do also. It really bothers me to have things in common with Jenny McCarthy. Like, beyond both of us having ovaries, and I’d be willing to have mine removed if it resulted in this Jenny-O union being dissolved, I don’t want to relate to her on any level.
I think I’ll feel better if I start a list of the things we don’t have in common. She is one of Oprah’s apostles; there is probably a restraining order on file that prohibits me from coming within a mile of Harpo Studios. She blogs about her PMS symptoms; I could never be so hateful. Her chesticles are plastical; mine are fantastical. Oh, and she can cure autism utilizing a magic recipe of sorghum and rice. I am completely incapable of curing autism.