"Well, actually..." was her favorite phrase.

"Well, actually..." was her favorite phrase.

Love Actually, her favorite movie. She practiced self actualization, but wasn't very good at it. She was an insufferable knowitall so we decided to set a trap for her. We

told her that we had found a new Trader Joe's and that actually got her into the car. We played Bjork to keep her mind off the route. Then she realized we were in the industrial

revolution drive-thru fair. A poorly paid child actor reenacted hauling porcelain tubs of coal through mine shafts. "Trader Joe's should be just beyond the Moldy Bread Bistro," I

said, "And then beyond the attached restaurant that only sells midwest home cooking of brown food." The underpaid child actor in Trader Joe's griped, "They don't have ponies here!

I pacifically stated in my contrac that I was sposed to have ponies!" Little whiner. We rounded up some ponies just to shut him up and so we could shoot the Trader Joe's commercial

before we lost the light. Another interruption and the director is going to walk off the set. It shouldn't be this hard to shoot a commercial bit this day has been full of

bees. That's right, stupid pesky bees. Oprah had released them into her captive audience a few days ago, and since then, they were swarming all over the cameras and props. The d

ay she retired would go down in history!!! Take that Jerry! Oprah and her bees would be legendary. No one would remember Barbara, Rosie, or Judge Judy. Only Oprah lived to

tell the tale of how Jerry Springer fell in love with a 9-foot bearded lady. Of course, a year later, a meteor wiped out civilisation and no one lived to tell (or hear) the tale!