Wait For It… a blog by Andy Ross

Thank You, Oprah

Posted on May 24, 2011

Thumbs Up

In honor of Oprah ending her show, I want to take a moment to acknowledge all she’s given to us all over the years. So, if you’ll allow me, I’d like to thank Oprah for a few things:

Farewell, Oprah. Thank you for teaching us to define ourselves through consumer goods.

Farewell, Oprah. Thank you for sharing The Secret with us.

Farewell, Oprah. Thank you for giving Jenny McCarthy a nationwide platform to discourage childhood vaccination.

Farewell, Oprah. Thank you for a constant flow of gurus.

Farewell, Oprah. Thank you for providing a safe place for closeted Scientologists to talk about their private jets.

Farewell, Oprah. Thank you for bringing us the person who brought us the word "yummo."

Farewell, Oprah. Thank you for getting the world to read books with “buzz.”

Farewell, Oprah. Thank you for inspiring Tyra Banks to be the way she is.

Farewell, Oprah. Thank you for helping corporations pass off public relations giveaways as charity.

Farewell, Oprah. Thank you for making suburban soccer moms refer to their genitals as “va-jay-jays.”

Farewell, Oprah. Thank you for all the screaming.

Farewell, Oprah. Thank you for the Backstreet Boys reunion.

Farewell, Oprah. Thank you for turning on James Frey and making his artistic/self-promotional choices seem like a personal emotional assault against you and your viewers.

Farewell, Oprah. Thank you for a southern psychologist who berates people for a half hour in place of therapy.

Farewell, Oprah. Thank you for teaching us that it doesn’t matter what weight a woman is, as long as she defines herself by her constant struggle with weight.

Thank you, Oprah. You’ve left the world and yourself a richer place.


Your Constant Input

Posted on September 21, 2010

Thank you so much for your constant input. I'm glad you feel comfortable sharing every tiny thought about what I am doing and how I could do it better.

For instance, the advice you gave me while I was driving--very helpful. You were correct that my hands should have been at 10 & 2. I was, indeed, signaling a bit too early. And, while I had seen the sign for the off ramp, it was nice having a backup scream as it approached.

Your incessant input was also appreciated at the conference hall. I hadn't realized my tie was ugly until you pointed it out. Good note. I'm sure everyone within earshot agreed. Also, I am more than happy to work on a "manlier" handshake.

You really are gifted at giving unrequested, unrelenting feedback. Not just to me, either. The wait staff during our business lunch—I’m sure they learned quite a bit about the quality of their croutons. If it weren't for you, our waitress might never have known she was "too tall." It's amazing how often you can find the opportunity to slip in those kinds of "teaching moments."

Thank you, too, for informing me how much nicer your hotel room was compared to mine. Next time I book a room, I’ll be sure to use your many, many helpful hints. The tip about faking deafness will prove especially helpful, I'm sure.

All in all, I'm just so grateful to have someone who assumes he's my mentor. I don't know what I would do without you. I can only constantly imagine.


Favorite Parts of Dinner

Posted on September 9, 2010


Dear Darcy,

Thank you so much for having us over for the delicious dinner last night. I think my favorite part was the conversation, which was wonderful. My second favorite part was the food. Not that the food wasn’t great—it was. I just liked the conversation slightly more.

My third favorite part of the evening was the napkins. I loved that you went full out with linen. Real classy. I almost enjoyed the fancy napkins even more than the food. Again, not that the food was bad; it was delicious. I just really liked those napkins.

My fourth favorite part was the appetizers. Do those count as the food? If so, include them as a subsection of my second favorite part about last night. If not, then they were my fourth favorite part.

My fifth (or fourth depending on how things fell in the last paragraph) was the temperature. Really good job on the temperature, Darcy. A lot of people get that wrong.

My sixth favorite part was when I made that joke about lemons, and wine came out your cousin’s nose from laughing. That might sound like I’m bragging about how funny my joke was, but I’m not. Everybody knows how funny I am at dinner parties. That’s a given. I just really liked how everybody rushed to help clean wine off of your cousin. I liked it sixth best of all the things about last night.

My seventh favorite part was not having to help do dishes.

My eighth favorite part was when the smoke detector went off because of the oven, and Sean scrambled to get it down from the ceiling. The evening felt truly alive at that moment. I shall cherish that memory forever.

My ninth favorite part was the anticipation as we first walked up to your door. What would you serve for dinner? Turned out it was lentils. Which were delicious. (Not amazingly delicious, though. Just regular, really delicious. Just a touch more salt, and they would have shot past conversation in my order of favorites.)

I feel like maybe I’m implying that some parts of last night’s dinner were not as good as others. No no no. Everything was splendid. The margin of difference between all these favorites is very narrow. I would say the conversation just barely eked out first place in the end.

I could go on listing all my favorite parts of the meal (there are seven additional favorite parts), but I won’t. Everything was excellent. Some things slightly more excellent than others.

Can’t wait to have you over to our new place, where you can judge which aspects you like from best to least.

Thanks again for thinking of us,
Andy (& Colleen)


Re: Your Play

Posted on May 17, 2010

Dear Patrick,

I wanted to drop you a note to thank you for inviting an old lady like me to your play. I just had such a fun time coming into the city to see your show. Like I said at work, I had no idea we had a real, live star in our office.

Donna from accounting wanted to come with, but walking up six flights to a downtown loft wouldn’t be good for her hip. I called her afterward and told her you were terrific onstage. I really think you have a future in that, if you ever give up temping.

I do wish you would have warned me about the nudity. Not that I’m a prude or anything, but I brought along my nephew, Chet. He got bitten by the acting bug during his community college’s production of Lil’ Abner last fall. I thought it’d be good for him to see a real New York show, because he loves that Mama Mia movie so much. He can do every dance by heart.

Anyhoo, your performance was just terrific. I loved the music and the puppets and everything. I’ll admit I had a hard time following the plot at points. I still don’t understand why you had that rope tied so tight around your genitals for the second half. And, the bit where those other naked men hit you with pool noodles; if your character really was a time-travelling space angel, why wouldn’t you have just teleported away?

But, all in all, I thought it was real nice. Chet did, too. On the ride home, he couldn’t stop talking about the scene where you were lifting weights to prepare for your battle with the evil Space Soldiers. And, he thought the Moon Queen’s costume was gorgeous.

I’ll see you at the office on Monday. I hope this note finds you well, and that you were able to wash off all that glitter make-up. Chet asked me for your contact info to talk about acting and things, so I passed along your work email. I hope that was okay. I'm sure you two artistic types would have a ton to talk about.

Thanks again,