Monday, May 22, 2006

Oprah's Legendary Trainwreck Ball

Yes, I've renamed Oprah's Legends Ball...because it was truly a dis-as-ter! I can not believe that an entire year has gone by since the actual event, and I'm still steaming over it!

When I received word that I would be one of the 25 women honored (by way of a gold-encrusted invitation), I was both thrilled and not at all surprised. After all, why wouldn't I be honored by Oprah? I did briefly question whether she realized I was not, technically, African-American, but decided not to make a big deal about it.

I arrived at her Montecito palace in my Gas/Electric Hybrid Hummer Stretch Limo (which gets 50-60 mpg, if I don't run the hot tub while going uphill). What happened on the red carpet should have tipped me off that the night would be a bust. Instead, I chalked it all up as an unfortunate accident. I was being interviewed by E!, when Della Reese stepped on my tail. Stepped on my tail!

"Excuse me..." I said.

"Oh, it's you," she snottily replied.

"Yes, it's me, you cranky ol' bit..." I responded as Halle Berry interrupted us.

"Kukka-Maria? The Empress? Is that really you?" fawned Halle.

"Yes, it's Kukka," Della cattily (no pun intended, of course) interjected as she stormed away.

"What is with her?" Halle wondered aloud.

"She's upset that I was the mastermind behind the cancellation of Touched by an Angel," I laughed.

"That's enough to set that woman off? Crappy shows get cancelled every day!" Halle joked.

"No. I suppose what really soured her was when, after the cancellation was announced on the last day of filming, I shouted, in front of the entire cast and crew, 'Della Reese, you will never work in this town again, you freakish ogre!' Apparently, she was a little miffed at that."

"Well, I don't blame you, Kukka. Her hair, alone, is enough to terrify small children. Let's continue down the red carpet together and be photographed looking so stunning! We'll make everyone jealous!" soothed Halle.

When I got inside, I saw Oprah, standing out in her brightly-colored frock, amid a sea of white gowns. You see, Oprah had specified that everyone wear white, so she could stand out. I chose to wear red. Just to piss her off. It did.

Upon seeing me, Oprah offered a curt, yet outwardly polite, greeting. "Hello, Empress."

"What up, O?"

Glaring at my red gown, she sarcastically stated, "I see you were so kind to honor my specific fashion instructions on the invitation. You can read English so well, can you not, my darling feline friend?"

At this point, she turned to her BFF, Gayle King, and whispered something in her ear. Despite my extraordinary feline auditory skills, it was difficult to make out what she was saying over the deafening cult-like chants of "O-PRAH, O-PRAH, O-PRAH!" from the other guests.

"I'm on it, Oprah," Gayle responded quickly, as she scampered away.

"Why don't you take a moment to walk around and visit with the other honorees before we get started, my dear," Oprah growled.

"Gladly, my dear," I sweetly, yet fiercely replied.

As I brushed through the room, I was greeted by many of my admirers: Diana Ross, Tina Turner, Aretha Franklin, Patti LaBelle, Janet Jackson (I used to date her brother Tito...don't ask), and Mary J. Blige, among others. Due to the sheer volume of my fans trying to greet me, I politely asked that they make an orderly line in front of me. My assurance to everyone that they would get a chance to interact personally with me was met with a profuse outburst of applause.

Oprah took the microphone and asked, "Will everyone please find their place cards and be seated so we can get started?"

Upon hearing many of them would not get to meet with me, a collective "Awwwww..." from the lingering queue of my fans overpowered the last half of her sentence--which didn't sit well with The Winfrey.

"Sit! Down! Now!" shouted our hostess.

The room fell silent and guests started milling around, looking for their names on place cards.

I headed to the front of the room, assuming I would be seated next to the "big names," but didn't find my name anywhere. I searched table after table, until I found a small table in the back with my name pristinely calligraphed (or is it "calligraphied?") on a tiny, folded card.

I scanned the table to see with whom I had been seated. This was the last straw! I looked to the front of the room at a smirking Oprah Winfrey, high-fiving Gayle King.

I was seated with Oprah's dogs!

"Hi, Kukka-Maria! We are so glad you could sit with us tonight!" Sophie cheerfully offered. She, Solomon and the other dogs seemed oblivious to the fact they were sporting unflattering white bows around their necks and relegated to a disgraceful "pet table."

"That's it, Winfrey!" I shouted as I rose from the tiny table in the back of the room. "I will not be treated this way!"

I decided to take the scenic route as I made my exit. I rushed the stage and shredded Oprah's gown with my freshly manicured, "Siren Red" claws. From the stage, I leapt to the front table and onto the lap of Della Reese, where I purred and peed. All over her white gown. I stopped to have a sing-off with Mariah Carey (she so lost), and helped Patti LaBelle administer some insulin (she's a really nice lady). Despite the fact I tapped, tapped, tapped Tyra Banks' water glass across the table until it crashed to the floor, she never noticed because she was going on and on about how "important" and "informative" her new talk show was going to be. I waited until she called herself "the voice of the new generation," before I hissed, and pooped on her shoulder.

When I finally made my way outside, my Gas/Electric Hybrid Hummer Stretch Limo was nowhere to be found. "I think your driver went bar hopping," said the valet.

So, to add insult to injury, I had to call for a cab to the airport--where I would have to fly cargo...again. "Ma'am, it is first-class cargo," the woman at the counter tried to reassure me.

"Oh, bite me."

The Legends Ball will air tonight on ABC at 8:00 pm, EDT. I wonder if any of my footage will be aired...

UPDATE: Friday, I will be recapping the hijinks that occurred at my own Legends Ball that was held shortly after Oprah's. Needless to say, Oprah was not invited.


Zeus said...

Sometimes, I have to wonder about that Oprah homo sapien. I think it's nice that she wanted to have a party with all of these people whom she thinks are legendary, but to be honest, are these people really legends?

What about blue-collar and white-collar felines and homo sapiens out there making a difference: teaching, writing, saving lives, etc? Aren't those the real legends? And what separates this from any other party that these hoo-hahs throw? Big deal. All this says to me is that they wanted to get drunk under the banner of being supposedly legendary.

I think I'm going to host my own legends ball. Yes, I think I am going to do that right now. And yes, Kukka, I'll invite you.

Kukka-Maria said...

That's awesome, Zeus! I ended up hosting my own Legends Ball--shortly after the Oprah fiasco. I'm going to write about it Friday (after I get the participants to sign a full-disclosure agreement).

I hope yours ends up better than mine! I am guessing you will have better taste in attendees than I did.

I can't wait for yours!

Gemini said...

Oh your parties are so glamorous Kukka Maria! I can't wait to hear about it.

Cheysuli said...

Alas everyone was being so irritating so soon that you were unable to get something to eat in order to hack up some partially digested food onto one of those gowns. And too bad you are far too well groomed to have a hairball...

The Meezers said...

You most certainly are a legend Kukka. You should have been the speshul guest honoree legend.

George, Tipper, Max & Misty said...

Empress, for you to be relegated to a table with (ugh!) dogs, when you should have been in the spotlight at the head's just unforgiveable. And all because of your beautiful, red gown. These celebs and their petty jealousies!

Finnegan & Buddy said...

We totally agree with Zeus. There is nothing legendary about those beans - all they do is purrtend to be somebean else or sing songs or whatefur they do. Real legendary heroes are the beans like the ones we know who save good cats (and even droolers) from living in bad shelters and getting killd, or living outside and having litter after litter and only having a bad life. There are even beans who are good who take care of other beans, like our Aunt Marie bean - she is a nurse who takes care of little tiny baby beans.

Thank you for the good ideas, Zeus and Miss Kukka, we will honor some good beans and cats on our blog too.


DEBRA said...


IF you weren't a legend before -- you are most definitely now!

No one can quit talking about your departure from Oprah's Legend Ball. Wow you do know how to make an exit!