Before I start today's post, I would just like to make one comment: Constantine, you were robbed. Even though I love Bo, you were a worthy opponent and thus should not have been eliminated before Lurch. I think your main problem is that most tween girls are not allowed to stay up late enough to keep voting for you. Sorry, bud.
Now that that is out of the way, it is time to discuss something that is frustrating the hell out of my daughter, and has become somewhat of an obsession for myself: Ellen Degeneres. Now, before you jump to any conclusions - I am not competition for Portia DiRossi. Nor do I ever wish to be. I enjoy Ellen immensely, and her show, and would love to hang out with her. As would my daughter. Which is why we have developed this intense NEED to somehow make contact with her.
It all started when I tivo'd her show to see some star who I really enjoyed who happened to be one of her guests that day. (In hindsight, I probably never should have done that, because just look what one innocent "dong" on the tivo machine has snowballed into. ) When I returned home that evening and watched the show, I found I REALLY enjoyed it. Ellen was funny as hell, her guests seemed to enjoy being there, people were dancing... it just seemed like one big party on my tv. My daughter was watching it with me, and we both agreed - Ellen was FUN. We started tivo'ing her show on a regular basis, and one day she read a letter from a viewer. After reading this letter, she called the viewer, and invited her out to LA to see the show. Well, that just blew my daughter's mind. All it took was a letter to Ellen, and this person got to go to LA and meet her. She was on the computer almost instantly after that.
Lexie's letter was the basic stuff of an 8 year old's mind (yes, 8, it was almost a year and a half ago that this began): I love you, you're cool, can I come on your show (preferably when you have Hilary Duff on), I have two cats... you know, things that a mega-celebrity like Ellen would DEFINITELY take notice of. We sent her letter certified mail (return receipt requested), and got the return receipt about a week later. But her letter was never read on the air. And she never got her phone call.
Soon after that, I found Ellen's website, and started entering for free giveaways, and submitting information for whatever she happened to be looking for. When she wanted couples that had been married 30 years or more, I told her about my grandparents (together 67 years). When she wanted bad school photos, I sent her three (don't ask). When she asked what your dream was, my daughter sent hers - to be on the show and meet her. STILL NOTHING. Desperate, I sent her a link to an article about the legalization of shooting cats in Wisconsin. Knowing her penchant for animals, I was sure THIS would get her attention. And maybe get my name mentioned on the air. Guess what? Still nothing.
Then it happened - last Sunday, my daughter and I were watching a week old episode, and Ellen was trying to call yet another lucky soul. Only this time, when she left her phone number on the machine, they didn't bleep it out. My daughter and I looked at each other with newfound hope - WE HAD ELLEN'S NUMBER. I rewound the tivo again and again, just to make sure we had heard correctly. And although it was almost 10:00 on a Sunday night, my daughter grabbed the phone and started to dial. I swear I heard the ringing myself while she held the receiver to her ear, both of us holding our breaths in anticipation. Then I saw her face change. First, pure exhiliration, then the crestfallen look of someone whose dreams were once again dashed. I asked her what happened, and she sadly said "She's not there" and handed me the phone. Of course, I hit redial and waited to hear what my daughter had heard already, which was this: "HI! This is Ellen!" (which accounted for her joyful look) "If you're hearing me, then everyone must be gone" (crestfallen). The message continued with instructions to leave a message, but alas, the voicemailbox was already full. I hung up and hugged my daughter. "We'll try again tomorrow, honey," I said with determination. "Don't you worry, we'll get a hold of Ellen."
(Ok, now some of you may think that at about this point, I was treading into stalking territory. But I wasn't - because in Webster's stalking is defined as "to pursue quarry or prey stealthily" or "to walk stiffly or haughtily". I really don't consider Ellen to be quarry or prey, just a possible buddy. And neither myself nor my daughter was walking stiffly or haughtily. )
On Monday when we got home, my daughter tried the number again (did I mention that Ellen is now on our phone directory list?). This time, she got an actual person. She told the woman that she really liked Ellen and was hoping Ellen could call her. Apparently, the woman very nicely told her that Ellen was doing a show - buh-bye. My daughter dejectedly hung up the phone. Her heavy sigh indicated to me that in her eyes, the fight was over. I nodded my head knowingly, and said, "They gave you the brush off, honey. Well, next time that won't happen, I promise you." At that point, she asked if I would call Ellen for her (yeah, right - e-mailing is one thing, but I'm not crazy enough to start calling her myself. I could get arrested!) and I explained to her that it was probably best if she keep trying to call Ellen herself. That Ellen liked kids a lot, and would rather hear from her. (Which actually is true, anyway, I'm sure) So now we are trying to think of something improtant for her to say, something Ellen will respond to, something that will GET HER NOTICED. (Hopefully though it won't involve swallowing a needle and having surgery like her last viewer we saw on the air.) And it will happen. You just keep watching. And Ellen, if you're reading this - we're really not crazy. I swear.
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