Like Heather, I love Ellen DeGeneres. Just last week I found myself watching Mr Wrong, even. (It's not good, in case you were wondering, and yet I watched the whole thing.) I love her AmEx commercials. I find her talk show charming, and it never fills me with any kind of rage, the way that Oprah sometimes does (like, you know, the four or five times she told everyone to read The Secret). I would never want her to show up at any event all trussed up in a frock. It's just not her. And yet, I'm not entirely sure THIS is her, either:
While Portia's working her high-waisted pants nicely, I'm concerned that Ellen's been spending her weekends in Headwaiter School with Constantine. I'm not entirely sure what kind of cuisine her establishment specializes in, but I suspect there's a portion of the evening where twirling plates are balanced on sticks. And if there's anything I know in this crazy, mixed-up world, it's that Ellen DeGeneres is too good for prop comedy.
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