blame it on la

Ok LA, it turns out you're an angry and vengeful mistress aren't you? You know, When I shook my fists and challenged you to show me what was next, I didn't think you'd take me seriously. I thought maybe maybe you'd raise my rent, or dent my car. I'm gonna be honest, I didn't think you were going to kill my cat! Didn't see that one coming. Well played, LA. Well played. That's just low, even for a crap dustbowl of a city with subpar mass transit such as yourself. Sure LA, you may feel smug, what with your hybrid cars, your perpetual sunshine, and your increasingly supicious phalanx of tanning salons, but you still can't bring me down. In fact, you have unwittingly bonded me with one of the most influential people in this country, possibly the world. That person would be the one and only, Oprah Winfrey. Very sloppy, LA. Thank you.

I've been grieving the loss of my cat, "Stone" for a few weeks now. We'd been buddies for 12 years, and clearly she didn't like it here either. Just a little background, Stone and I were basically bonded from her conception, when her pregnant street cat mother used to come to my window from the backstreets and barrios of Boston and harass my then cat "X." Eventually pregnant feral mommy disappeared and one night in her place I was greeted by a palm sized kitten crying at my window. The rest is history, albiet a somewhat abbreviated version. Stone was always a skinny and I like to think very fit cat, until I got her fixed. Almost immediately after I heeded Bob Barker's sage advice to spay and neuter my pet, she ballooned into the fattest, coolest, and friendliest cat ever and that's how she stayed until about 3 months ago when Inoticed she started losing weight, hiding, and peeing on my floor. The Doctor told me she had a very aggressive form of cancer and there was very little if anything they could do to help her. Over the next 3 weeks she got progressively worse and one night as I was contemplating taking her to be evaluated, she tried to jump on my bed, but couldn't make it, so she sat next down next to my bed and took her last breaths. You can imagine my horror the next morning when I awoke to find my friend lifeless on my bedroom floor. Even though I knew it was coming, nothing could have prepared me for that.

Just when I thought I was all alone and no one would relate, and no one could possibly have it worse than me, I turned on the news and saw that my sister from another mother (ok stepsister), Oprah Winfrey recently lost her beloved (not the movie) golden retriever "Gracie." Far be it for me to try to make light of a painful situation, but the first thing that came to mind was "OMG, I am so glad I wasn't the dog walker who let Oprah's dog choke to death on a plastic ball." I'm guessing she's training dogs in Siberia by now. Secondly, I thought "Damn, wish I published a magazine so the world could know my private pain." Or something like that. But sadly in the end I thought.."OMG, Oprah and I are bonded for life!" As any self respecting person (and there aren't many in the talk show game) will tell you, working for Oprah is the Holy Grail! Nothing short of an act of God can get you into the hallowed halls of Harpo and that's a fact, but now I finally have an in. I'm pretty sure after I relate my story to the Queen, all while carrying both a copy of the latest "O" and a picture of my cat, I'll be well on my way to a place called "Credibility Road" in a utopia called "Harpo Studios."

So thanks again LA, and nice try. I'm not dumb enough to keep challenging you, but I'm not quite ready to call a truce yet either. I'll end by saying "Goodbye Stone." And although I never knew her, "Goodbye Gracie." I'll see you soon Oprah, we'll be talking pets in no time, but please go easy on that dog walker. It was probably her first three or four years on the job.