This week the ladies engaged in the sort of conversations that make men cringe and leave the room, like tales from the gynecologist's office and incessant worry about weight. But that's fine with me, because I love hearing about all 161 of Tyra's pounds and I could listen to Joy Behar talk about getting surly in the stirrups all the live long day. In this week's 'Lady Bunch', watch as Barbara Walters brags about being skinny, Oprah calls out an audience member on a back-handed compliment, and Tyra falls backward off her couch. The latter might be the best five seconds of daytime TV ever. After the jump, more recaps on the girlie gab fests.
Okay, before we get started, I just want to bring this up, out of love: What the fuck is going on with Babs' hair lately? It's beginning to look outrageous. I would go so far as to say truly, truly, truly outrageous, but she's not so much Jem as she is Ken from Barbie and the Rockers.
Oprah had an episode all about dream jobs. And what was the dream job most prominently featured? Being Oprah Winfrey! But seriously, she does have a dream job. I would love to be her. Well, actually, I don't want to be Oprah at 6:15 am, which is the start of her day. She looks, uh, different without makeup and lashes.
Does making fun of an au natural O make me a witch? Well if so, then I should be thankful Tyra did a whole show on witches. She had a graphic made up for it and everything.
You could tell that she was afraid of them, and that being in the same room with them made her weave crawl—even the harmless femme-y Wicca chicks. I think she thinks that witches are real, that they have real powers and large noses with warts on them and they got to her studio riding old time-y brooms.
But to be fair, she had some dark witches there (whom Tyra kept incorrectly referring to as "black witches") and I found them to be spooky. Although, upon further inspection of this screen grab, I guess they just look like a tranny and a dyke you might find behind the counter at a sex toy shop.
Why is it that the people who work at those places tend to be the least appealing to me, sexually? Do the stores hire employees like that on purpose, so that we'll want to give up on attempting to have sex with humans and just stick with machinery? Whatever the case, I'm not sure anything—be it intercourse or a vibrator or a plate of ribs—could be as satisfying as the sight of TyTy falling off that couch. Maybe those witches cast a spell on her after all? Or maybe that's just what you get when you don't sit on the furniture properly.