Can You Afford That? with Suze Orman

Hello Everyone. This is Mrs. Sensei. You are probably wondering where my husband is. Last night, he was rushed to the hospital with severe abdominal pain. It turns out the group of little alien things in his stomach was actually appendicitis. After much deliberation, the doctors took his appendix out.

He wanted me to tell you all that he, and his reviews, will be back soon.  And the morphine is awesome!

Oprah Fridays Live with Chris Rock and Ben Stiller

Status: New

It's official. I'm going to live.

I stared death in the eye. I ducked, dodged and alluded men whose names end in M.D. I turned away the reaper's advances. 

And I ate something other than crackers.

I feel better. Of course, this is me we're talking about and if you've read this blog with any sort of regularity, you know that the ironically unfortunate is constantly drawn to me. Like a child star to rehab.

I spend my nights hoping to one day find Murphy, take his Law and shove it up his a#@.

It's as if I'm standing in the middle of the train track. I hear the whistle. I see the light. Yet, I stand there. Refusing to move. Practically welcome my own demise. Today, on The Oprah Winfrey Show, Oprah Fridays Live is back again. This time with Chris Rock and O Show virgin, Ben Stiller. And Friday regulars, Ali Wentworth, Mark Consuelos and Gayle King. Along with promise to discuss the topics that are on the minds of the viewers. 

My most important topics. 

I desperately hope to laugh while listening to the cast talk about beer, Texas/OU weekend and Andy Samberg. 

Instead, O and her cast of correspondents take us on a 48-minute laughless journey towards the truly vital topics of our time. Like the upcoming movie, "Madagascar: Escape 2 Africa," the age that they enjoyed their children most and sex addiction. And no episode would be complete without some Skype and Dr. Oz. Why not. I forgot to flog myself today, so this is the next best thing.

I start to debate the pros and cons of eating garbage. And wonder if I can invite the teethy little bastards back to the home they made within my stomach lining over the past few days. 

A sentiment that continues to be amplified as we get into economy talk and hear from Oprah that the financial disaster dominating every news outlet in the world for the past month is NOW "officially on my mind."

Whew. And to think I was starting to get worried.

While trying to decide if turning on the gas oven, with your head inside, is a more productive use of your time, be sure to catch Dr. Oz's three ways to relieve financial stress. Because, today, more people are having headaches, stomach cramps (ahem) and muscle tension. 

Also known as any Monday. 

1) Stretch

2) Breathe

3) Have sex

I begin to hope for the continued demise Dow Jones. 

Next up:  The introduction of Ben Stiller and Chris Rock. My hope for correcting this tailspin is reborn. As are my expectations that Oprah will hold to her earlier promise proclaiming I will "laugh until my face hurts." But as I fight the urge to jump through a plate glass window, the talk of "Madagascar: Escape 2 Africa" doesn't ring a bell as a "vital topic for our viewers." 

I begin to punch myself in the face realizing that I can achieve at least one part of O's assurance. 

Which isn't nearly as painful as the comedic gem Chris Rock wowed 30 million O fans (and me) with during O.J. talk. 

CHRIS: (laughing) "Oh, I know you're thinking, one day, I might get to kill my wife."

BEN: (not laughing) "Um. No. That's not really what I'm thinking."

The crowd laughs awkwardly and Ben Stiller looks about as comfortable as a lost deer at an NRA convention.

Interesting trivia fact that you can tell your friends you learned on Oprah, only to have your ass kicked shortly thereafter. 

OJ Simpson was convicted of this crime 13 years to the day he was acquitted of murdering Nicole Simpson and Ron Goldman. The jury deliberated for 13 hours. The crime was committed on September 13.

Then I see them. And like an appearance by Britney, my eyes would not, could not be pulled from watching. 

Mark Consuelos' pits. 

They call to me. Like rain-soaked sirens in my twisted, estrogen-laden Odyssey. With a level of sweat that should only be seen in cases of interrogation, meeting the parents for the first time and Hell.

Not like this:

 

Or this: 

But more like this: 

It's as if his underarms had a wet t-shirt contest and forgot to invite the rest of his torso. 

Dry off in time for Oprah's line of the night.

"Jada Pinkett gives good hippo."  

You know, the hippo character in the movie? Right. That's Jada Pinkett.

Pervert.

Wrap it up with Bernie Mac memorial talk, playful infighting, talking over one another, interrupting each other's sentences, not being able to a) hear or b) understand what anyone is saying, controlling the urge to throw your remote at the television and Tyler Perry and suddenly that gas oven looks better and better. 

Choo choo.

Oh, and say "hi" to your mother for me. 

Next Episode: "Can You Afford That?" with Suze Orman

Suze Orman is back giving answers to some of the viewers most burning questions and leading to the one no one will ask, "Can Oprah get any other guests?"

Until Monday. 

Mark it on your calendars now. November 6. And then feel free to make funny of me as much as you'd like. I'm used to it by now.

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How to Handle Life's Stickiest Situations

Status: New

Good news. 

I didn't die today. Yet.

I did, however, discover that the teethy stars in the 36-hour marathon of horror and pain that is the inside of my stomach, are alive and doing well. And I'm pretty sure they are multiplying. 

Like a pair of love-struck bunnies.

The pain has not subsided. It has, in fact, remained constant. 

Constantly there. 

Constantly shooting. 

Constantly giving me the figurative middle finger, mocking me and silently laughing, as I sit here and starve. 

I'm convinced that I'm being punished for something I did in a previous life. Like robbing a busload of nuns. Stealing another man's serfs. 

Or proudly singing the words to this:

While dancing. 

In public.

So, while on today's episode of The Oprah Winfrey Show, Oprah regaled the world with tips and tricks on "How to get out of life's stickiest situations," I continue to openly wonder if there is another option for effective pain management that I have overlooked. Like having someone surgically remove my stomach. 

With a butter knife. 

To the most Crochety car-yelling old man I know, I am sorry, but tonight I cannot help you find your way out of indecent proposals, alert someone of the fact that their breath smells like wet cats wrapped in burned hair or tell someone to tone down the Drakkar. You are on your own, my friend. I am returning to my bed where another sleepless night awaits. 

Damn serfs. 

But I'll be back tomorrow. 

Or I'll be tossing myself off of my roof. 

Next Episode: Oprah Fridays Live with Chris Rock and Ben Stiller

It might not be informative. But at least it'll be funny. 

Until tomorrow. 

It's ok if you don't rate this post. I'm only sick and on my last legs here. No big deal. Humor-Blogs.com

If you get tired of denying sick people their last wish, you can find the funniest bloggers on the net at Humor Bloggers dot com.

The Thriftiest Family in America

Status: New

I can't remember the last time I licked a raw chicken breast. 

I don't know a man named Montezuma nor do I understand why he would be seeking revenge against me.

And I've done my best to avoid water, shellfish or vegetables that have been seasoned with poo.

So, I'm at a loss as to how I can accurately explain the utter hell that has been unleashed in my abdomen.

But I think I need a new stomach. 

I will spare you the details, but just know that I realize there is a teethy little bastard chewing its way through my cardia and my fundus right now. I only pray that  Ripley will arrive in time to blow it's head off.

Or maybe it's just the fact that watching Oprah is slowly turning me into a women. So much so that I have begun to develop symptoms only found in women. 

Like menstrual cramps.

Hold the menstrual.

I've spent the majority of my day trying to decide if it would be better to cut my stomach out with the scissors on my desk to relieve the pain or stab myself in the eye to distract myself from it. I have ingested enough Pepto-Bismol, Tums and Immodium AD to successfully treat and cure a medium-sized town of Salmonella sufferers. 

With a burrito fetish.

And while I've always heard alcohol is the best way to kill off the bad, the several Dos Equis that I convinced myself were "medicine," only made the beast angrier. Much, much angrier. 

So, I'm going to bed. To get some rest while giving myself my last rites. 

If I can pick myself up off the floor.

There will be no Oprah review today. My apologies. But it doesn't seem like we missed much. It was just O talking to the thriftiest family in America and other penny pinchers to uncover their secrets that help them save thousands of dollars a year. 

Besides, it's not like spending less and saving money are a top concern or primary focus of for you or me right now anyway. 

Thank you for your thoughts and prayers in advance. 

Until tomorrow. 

Hopefully.

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Dr. Oz Reports: Hair Transplants, Heart Attacks and Other Burning Questions

Status: New

This is my 87th post. For 87 days, give or take, I have watched The Oprah Winfrey Show. I have listened to descriptions of poop. Heard about heroin-addicted families. Learned words like "va-jay-jay" and endured Jim Carrey. I've willingly offered up valuable sections of my brain and leased it out to facts about varicose veins.

And why women pee when they laugh.

I didn't think there was much, minus "Tori & Dean," that would produce more moments that would have me seriously contemplate kicking myself in the groin with steel-toed boots than The Oprah Winfrey Show.

And then I watched the Presidential Debate tonight.

"You did this. He did that. I'm better than him. He's to blame. No he is. That's not what I said. Yes it is. No."

I've had more meaningful debates with my two-year old son. Over having waffles for breakfast.

Not only do I dislike both of them as much as they dislike each other, but I'm happy to report I now have two fewer testicles.

So, back to something that we can actually learn from. Sort of.

Today, on The Oprah Winfrey Show, 170 men and 170 women sat in O's audience and listened as Dr. Oz answered the awkward, the uncomfortable and the embarrassing health questions that no one wants to ask.

Kick away "my friends."

Segment 1: Bladders and Hair

Rejoice guys. The fact that women frequently leave the table is not because of you, your halitosis or your overbite. It's because they have smaller bladders. And a uterus. That weakens their muscles and presses on their bladder wall.

Of course, none of this applies if you're ugly.

And do hair transplants work? Spend five minutes watching a procedure where doctors Hannibal Lecter a strip of your head and you'll hold onto your comb over like Chunk to a Kit-Kat. Combine this with stapling the missing section back together, stabbing your head with a needle somewhere between 500 and 1,000 times and then plugging those holes with hair from your recent quarter lobotomy and bald isn't just beautiful.

It's Marisa Miller.

Segment 2: Sex & Male Enhancement

According to Dr. Oz, studies show that men consider foreplay everything that happens three minutes before sex. Check. For women, foreplay can begin up to twenty-four hours before sex. Crap. Note to self. Start planning ahead.

On average, it takes men three to five minutes to achieve their "oh face." Women can take up to thirteen.

Minutes. Not "oh faces."

But relax, fellas. For the ten minutes or twenty-three hours and fifty-seven minutes that you have to kill, you can assure her that Dr. Oz says "male enhancement" doesn't really work and that, in truth, proportionally speaking, our man thingies are larger than any other animal.

So back off.

And besides, it was cold in the room.

Segment 3: Erectile Dysfunction

Short of weekends alone with their mother-in-law, sans alcohol, a man's biggest fear is discovering his general will not stand at attention when needed. It can turn us into a quivering mass of testosterone-laced jello quicker than "Brian's Song."

Dennis, a 56-year old sufferer, asks the question no one else will. Granted it's via email, but the thought of making such an admission to thirty million people on national television would make any turtle crawl back in its shell. So, don't judge him. You would've done the same.

Turns out, Dennis is overweight. He has high cholesterol, he eats like crap and he doesn't exercise.

Yep. This is a tough one to diagnose.

Supposedly, it's a lack of Omega-3 fatty acids.

Or.

Maybe it's the tighty whities.

Segment 4: Senses

I apologize. After hearing from Dr. Oz that the scent of pumpkin pie and lavender "put men in the mood" and the scents of cucumber and licorice "put women in the mood," I spent the rest of this segment tearing my refrigerator and pantry apart looking for fresh produce and candy.

However, after rubbing two-month old celery and peppermint sticks on my person, I was unable to produce the same, or even a similar aphrodisiac-type effect.

Instead she laughed. And asked why I smelled like a minty fresh vegetable garden. In an adult film.

Segment 5: Running

Men have larger lungs than women. Which means men can take in more air than women and sometimes labor less than women when running. It's a revolutionary theory that is clearly so advanced it is worth whipping the collective asses of the thirty million people watching.

Via Skype.

Find the nearest wall and slam your head into it. Or spend the next six minutes doing something more valuable than watching this segment.

Like cleaning your toilet.

With your fingers.

Segment 6: Brains

It's as if I fell, hit my head on a table and saw a vision of the Flex Capacitor and the 1.21 jigawatts needed to send me back to 1955.

We are told about the medulla oblogotntateraeblahblah and the hypothalalisticexpealidocious. Two parts of our brains that determine memory and worry.

And women have larger ones than men.

So, when they remember every detail of every fight or ask what they were wearing on their first date "since I remember what you were wearing," they can't help it. It's in their heads. Add this to the portion that makes them worry incessantly about dinner parties, guest lists and if the eggshell is the right choice for the sunroom and it all makes sense.

Ok, not all of it. But understanding two out of 18,334,093,432 complexities that reside within women is a start.

Segment 7: Booze

Women wonder why they are more strongly affected by alcohol than men.

Dr. Oz says it's an enzyme that only men have in our stomachs to break down the alcohol faster.

Ok. Only some men.

Next Episode: The Thriftiest Family in America

Tips to cut your grocery bill in half that don't include buying only Ramen noodles.

Until Wednesday.

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