I mean, not poor Oprah, that'd be insane, but Oprah is having a 'lil pity party and she invited all of us! Yes You! And You! And Yooooouu! What am I talking about? Oprah has admitted in the January issue of her magazine that she is 200 pounds and upset about it. Real, real, pissed.

    Please Oprah, get Bob, watch that new Victoria Secret commercial (you know the one with the brown haired girl in the red bra winterly strolling through a gothic mansion), get inspired, and be the god we all know you can be/think you are. I mean, I know you like Mary J. Blige gurl, put that ish on and work that ish out!

    Honestly though, how can you be really pissed about anything if you have the ability to rant about it IN YOUR OWN MAGAZINE. O, I'm sorry, the woman is about to have her own TV channel (her OWN channel, literally, OWN). Wa-ha-hat?

    When I'm pissed, the best I get is a non-sober rant to an unamused, usually embarrassed friend, filled with tangents and mumbled curses, then crying. And by crying I mean sobbing, like ethnic-minority-Grandma-at-a-funeral-style wailing. I'm a real gem.