So it’s a been a whole week since I woke to the news that rocked my Oprah Winfrey lovin’ world – my ultimate daytime chat show queen of the small screen is winging her way Down Under!

I suppose I need to qualify this little fixation so you don’t think me quite so strange. As a youngster, I dabbled in Donohue, sussed our Sally Jesse Raphael – hell, I even jeered along with the unruly Jerry Spring crown – but through it all, only one remained as the undisputed sovereign of all things talk show and left me feeling like Tiger Woods or Jesse James at The Playboy Mansion. Quite simply (and for many, you will say, sadly!) heaven is an uninterrupted viewing of The Oprah Winfrey Show.

You know that old chestnut that gets trotted out during dinner parties and small talk “If you could have 5 people over for dinner, who would it be?” Anyone who has ever asked me this can vouch that my answer always included the Divine Miss O. Every single time. Not that I get asked much, but you comprende, si? And while I’d certainly be thrilled to literally extend this offer of hospitality her way, I’d issue it with a disclaimer. If it’s only 5 star cuisines she has cultured her palette into accepting, then perhaps we’d better just skip straight to after dinner drinks. My 3-ingredient pasta specialty might not quite make the cut.

So, after the announcement was replayed throughout the day on various News Bulletins (once for every viewer in Australia, methinks) and the shock had started to subside, slowing my heart beat back down to about 150 beats per minute, the excitement was promptly replaced with a mild form of hysteria. A new quandary had arisen… I HAD to meet her; I MUST be in that audience. But short of taking out a second mortgage to issue bribes to the powers that be (and then remembering that might go against the good karma she so readily promotes) just how could I make this dream a reality?

Problem is, I’ve lived a life a little ordinary for the likes of Lady O – no mercy dashes to oppressed countries to free the downtrodden; no building of orphanages; cant claim to be a hoarder, overeater or overcome with agonising addiction issues (unless chocolate counts?) and not remotely famous unless an acutely embarrassing appearance on the Life Education Ad circa 1987 counts (and yes, I am still haunted by the fact my mother let me out of the house with my “Farrah Fawcett-eque” hair …)

I wondered if perhaps I wrote some witty ditty maybe Ms Winfrey might notice me. Words are my only weapons that might set me apart… Would she be thrilled to know that one of her recent episodes brought about one of her revered “A-HA!” moments in my life, appearing on my blog, a mere few days BEFORE this mammoth announcement was made? http://donnawebeck.com/?p=282  Is that the work of the TV Gods who are subliminally soliciting this desire of mine into realisation?

Could she be fascinated by my overly cute and impressively articulate 2 year old who can reel of the names of various Dinosaurs as if they were actual family members? What about being so kind as to care that a decade ago I survived a supreme life changing event, shedding one wholly unsatisfactory existence in a mere matter of months to embrace another, entirely exhilarating one? That it then led me to discover the courage to turn down an engagement to a man who flew to the other side of the world to woo me because I listened to my intuition? How I managed to travel solo from Naples to Sicily and only managed to get ripped off the once? Or the time I endured the most horrific holiday as a virtual hostage on a Turkish Gullet?  Perhaps I can woo her with the the fact I would have never met The Husband (or welcomed our precious boy into our world) had I not endured the death of a most beloved friend, who somehow managed to orchestrate a match made in heaven?

Are any of these offerings actually awesome enough to get me front and centre (note, I’ll accept far back, top row, as well) in her audience???
I beseech you, cyber space friends, tell me just how I go about making this major life mission of mine a reality. All ideas will be considered (if not actually undertaken) and rest assured if I do happen to find myself directly in the presence of the Divine Miss O come mid December, consider yourself included on that “5 people in the world over for dinner…” invite list. Promise I’ll get The Husband to cook instead!