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She traveled all over every continent. (I think there are eleven?) One day she was walking through the beautiful streets of London when a sudden gust of wind blew her tiara right off her head. She ran into the street to get it just as a car was driving by. The driver slammed on his brakes so hard that everyone in the street stopped and stared.

  Suddenly the driver stepped out of the car and Isabella couldn’t believe her big, blue (fake contact lens–wearing) eyes. It was the prince.

  Isabella couldn’t explain why, but she was so happy to see him and he was happy to see her. He picked the tiara up off the street and placed it upon her head. (He had run it over with his car so it was in about four different pieces that he had to stack on top of one another.) He explained that he, too, wanted to spend time traveling and living on his own. But now as luck would have it, there they were together again. They embraced.

  (They went back to their hometown and ended up getting married about a year later. Isabella gave birth to a bunch of kids throughout the next decade. She continued to wear her tiara outside of the house, which gave her the reputation of being a full-on weirdo, and she kept her hair long well into her late sixties. After the princess’s father passed away, the queen moved in with them, which put some strain on their relationship. They got through it but there were definitely some rough patches. They had some money trouble on and off just like any other couple. A few of their kids weren’t that smart. It seemed like they both couldn’t help but wonder if they were meant to be together, even though it did seem like fate brought them back together that one day in London. Or maybe if she didn’t wear that tiara all the time it wouldn’t have blown off her head and they never would have seen each other again. It’s one of those things that no one will ever really have the answer to.)

  And they lived happily ever after. (Not really.)

  Talking Hard

  There are a few things I didn’t realize would happen when I signed on to host my talk show. One, I didn’t know that for the first three months of the job, I would have a recurring dream where Maury Povich invites me on his show to tell me that Phil Donahue is my biological father. And two, I didn’t realize how much I was going to have to talk. Oh my heavens, there’s a lot of talking. I know the job title is “talk show host,” but I guess when I first started I focused more on the “host” part. I picked out nice candles for the guest dressing rooms. I made sure the lighting was just right. I stocked the rooms with champagne and fresh strawberries. I even picked out soft robes and underwear in case anyone wanted to get more comfortable. Sure, a lot of my guests initially thought I was hitting on them, and that was my mistake.

  I just didn’t realize how much talking it would involve, and my job isn’t a job where I can ever take a day off. Believe me, I’ve tried. The studio is always like, “You signed a contract to be here every day, blah, blah, blah.”

  It’s a lot of pressure. It turns out if I stop talking the show comes to a complete stop. It’s the same as writing this book. If I don’t write, nothing happens.

  Do you see what I mean? It’s pressure.

  And it’s not just the talking. I also have to listen! When I ask my guests questions, I don’t know how they’re going to answer so I really have to pay attention. In real life, when I ask someone a question I can nod and pretend like I’m listening, when really all I’m thinking about is how cute it would be if my cat could play the ukulele. If I daydream like that on my show, I’m being “rude” to “Julia Roberts.”

  Don’t get me wrong—I love my job, but let me just break down how much talking there is on my show. Every day I start with a monologue. That’s all talk with some occasional singing because when you have a voice like mine you have to share it with the world. Then I sit down and I talk to my DJ. We make small talk. After that I talk to my audience about what’s going on in my life. I love talking to my audience. Over the past nine years, I feel like I’ve developed a relationship with them. It’s one where I do most of the talking and we eat all our meals separately, but it works for us.

  After I talk to the audience, we take a commercial break, and during the break I talk to my producers. They tell me stuff like, “You look great” and “You were so funny when you said [INSERT HILARIOUS JOKE HERE].” It’s not like they have to say that stuff or anything, but if they do they get entered into drawings to win fun prizes. Then we come back from commercial and I talk to my guests. Now, I love talking to my guests. I have had the chance to interview some absolutely incredible people—everyone from actors and musicians to powerful world leaders like the president of the United States and Justin Bieber.

  But let me be clear. Not all of my guests are easy to talk to. Most of them are. Most of them come on with great stories to share and great energy. We have a nice time. We dance with each other, we chat, we do shots. But every once in a while, a guest will come on who isn’t the easiest person to have a conversation with. I can’t name any names, of course. Well, I can name one: Harry Connick Jr. He’s like talking to a wall. It is impossible and I can’t pretend otherwise anymore.

  Meeting and talking to my guests is a lot like being at a cocktail party with people you’ve only met once or twice. When you first see each other, you’re not sure if you should shake hands or hug or kiss, so you end up doing that awkward handshake-half-hug-oh-my-goodness-we-almost-kissed-on-the-lips-because-I-didn’t-know-which-way-to-turn-my-head! combination greeting.

  Then after they sit down, I try to compliment them right away. I’ll say something like, “You look great” or “It’s so nice to finally meet you.” And they’ll say something like, “Thanks, you look great also” or “We’ve met before.” And then they’ll launch into their personal stories.

  I’ve definitely noticed some patterns over the years in the way certain people tell stories. First of all, you can always tell how interested you’re going to be in a story based on how it starts. If it starts with the sentence “Wait until I tell you about my new shower caddy,” I don’t need to hear the rest of it. But if it starts “I survived twelve years in the jungle on nothing but berries and thistle,” I’m in.

  I’ve also noticed that when people say, “You are never going to believe this story in a million years,” I am almost always able to believe it. And when people say, “Long story short,” they either say it after they’ve already told about fifteen minutes of an incredibly long, boring story, or they say it in the middle of what could be a really good story, like, “Well, we woke up and had breakfast out on the deck, like we do every morning. And long story short, I am no longer welcome in Mexico.”

  Obviously, it’s my job to keep the conversation going and headed in a good, positive, upbeat direction. So I’ve learned that there are definitely questions to steer clear of to make sure that happens. If any of you ever decide to host your own talk show—and I encourage you to do so—here are some things you should never ask a guest:

  How old are you really?

  And where is that tattoo?

  And where is that piercing?

  What an interesting story that was about your belt. Tell me more.

  Could we see more pictures of your wife giving birth in the tub?

  I genuinely do love what I do. I like getting to meet new people every day, I like introducing my audiences to new music and talent, I like helping people. It’s not like I’d rather be a mime. I mean, they have to wear far too much makeup.

  Pros and Cons

  By a show of hands, who has a hard time making decisions? You know what, I just realized I can’t see you. This is a book! I wish I could see you. Well, not all of you. I don’t know where you are or under what circumstances you’re reading this. If you’re sitting on a bench in a beautiful park, maybe somewhere in Colorado in the middle of summer, I’d love to be able to see you. Colorado is beautiful in the summer.

  Or if you’re sitting next to a fireplace, next to a big window overlooking a snowy field, maybe somewhere in Colorado in the middle of winter, I’d also love to be able to see you
. Colorado is beautiful in the winter.

  I’d love to be able to see some of you even if you’re not in Colorado. It’s just that a lot of people read books while they’re in the bathtub and if that’s the case, then I do not wish to see you. Unless you’re in Colorado and it’s fall and you have a breathtaking view of a lush forest from your bathtub. Then, perhaps.

  Because I can’t see you, I’ll have to assume that a lot of you have a hard time making decisions. Sometimes I have a hard time making decisions and I like to think that I have a lot in common with my readers. (Who else considers a glass of wine a serving of fruit? Me, too!)

  Throughout my career, I’ve had to make a lot of very big decisions, many of which had huge impacts on my life. The material I decided to do for my first appearance on The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson led to Johnny calling me over, which literally changed everything for me. (My decisions to sport a mullet with bangs and wear Hammer pants remain questionable.)

  A lot of people are good at making decisions. They know what they want and they can make up their minds quickly. I call those people “Quick Decision Makers.” Some people, however, are very, very bad at making decisions. They waver back and forth and might linger on an issue for days or weeks or even years. I call those people “Annoying.” Here’s a fun fact: Quick Decision Makers are often stuck behind Annoying people in line at Starbucks.

  Whenever I have to make an important decision, I like to make a list of pros and cons. That way I can see all the positives and negatives right there in front of me and I can decide what will work best for me. I highly recommend it. Can’t decide if you should quit your big city job and move to a small town? Make a list. Not sure if you should plan a huge, fancy wedding or elope? Make a list. Debating whether to buy a really awesome fancy new car or send your kid to college? Make a list.

  I wanted to show you how helpful a pros and cons list can be, so I’ve gone ahead and made a list of the pros and cons of making a list of pros and cons. Look it over and then you can decide for yourself if a list is right for you.

  Pros and Cons of Making a List of Pros and Cons

  PROS

  • Aids you in making well-informed decisions.

  • Helps you to feel organized and in control of your life.

  • Allows you to put off making an actual decision.

  • You might decide to make your list while you’re flying on an airplane next to a very attractive person. You’ll take out a piece of paper and realize you need a pen. You’ll ask him or her if he or she has a writing utensil, sparking a conversation about how you’ve both been to Paris in springtime. You’ll fall in love, get married, and live happily ever after in a mansion made out of clouds.

  • Lists are fun.

  Pros and Cons of Making a List of Pros and Cons

  CONS

  • Forces you to make well-informed decisions so you can’t say stuff like, “I don’t know why I bought this ten-thousand-dollar antique spoon! I wasn’t thinking.”

  • Takes away time that could be spent napping or playing video games.

  • Takes away time from making your actual decision.

  • Can be hard to figure out margins.

  • You might decide to make your list while you’re flying on an airplane next to a very attractive person. You’ll take out a piece of paper and rummage through your bag for a pen. Once you find it, you’ll exclaim, “Found it!” and reach your arm up, immediately knocking it into the tray table of the attractive person next to you. Their water will go flying through the air, soaking them and you and the flight attendant, who happens to be walking by at the time. Everyone around you will be upset, you’ll have to sit there without moving an inch for the rest of the six-hour flight, and you won’t marry the stranger on the plane, something you’ve dreamed of doing since you were six.

  • What was I trying to decide?

  Additional Thank-Yous

  I just remembered some people I forgot to thank in the acknowledgments. Deepak Chopra; my third-grade teacher, Mrs. Grady; the New Orleans Saints; my cats Charlie, George, and Chairman, who are my dawgs; my dogs Wolf and Mabel, who are really cool cats; everybody at NASA; Kate Middleton; and the nice man at the supermarket today who let me pay ahead of him because I only had one item. Thank you.

  Babies, Animals, and Baby Animals

  People are constantly asking Portia and me if we are going to have children. If you are one of the people or persons who want to know the answer to that question, before you stop me on the street or send me an e-mail or hand me back my dry cleaning, I can tell you right now that we are not going to have any children. We thought about it. We love children. We love to be around children after they’ve been fed and bathed. But we ultimately decided that we don’t want children of our own. There is far too much glass in our house.

  A few years ago in an online poll, Portia and I were voted the number one celebrity couple people would trust leaving their kids with. That’s very flattering, but before anyone starts dropping their babies off at our house like it’s a day care center, let me tell you how much I know about them. I know which end you feed. I know up from down. I know front from back on the boy ones. And I know that when they’re born they’re slimy and make weird goat noises. I might be thinking of a baby goat in that instance.

  I know everyone says it, and that’s because it’s true—parents have the hardest job in the world. I can’t think of anyone who has a harder job on the planet, besides maybe whoever glues those tiny rhinestones onto doll shoes. It’s so precise.

  Portia and I have learned so much about parenting from being around our niece Eva and her mom and dad. It’s a challenge even if you have the most precious, most adorable, and cutest baby on the planet. (I know everyone says that about their own kids, and I’m sure you all think your kids are the cutest kids on the planet. It’s sweet that you think that, but the fact of the matter is, Eva is the cutest.)

  We’ve learned how much patience you need to have and how careful you have to be with what you say and what you do because from the moment these little creatures are born their brains are like sponges that absorb every single thing around them. We’ve also learned how attentive you have to be. If you’re not attentive 100 percent of the time, you will quickly learn how difficult it is to get grape juice out of the antique rug in Auntie Ellen and Auntie Portia’s sunroom.

  Here’s why I think every parent out there should be given a medal or a ribbon or a trophy, like those bowling trophies but instead of a person bowling on top there would be a little statue of a parent sitting down to watch some mindless TV after scraping dried peas off the sofa while their son or daughter is finally sound asleep in the other room. That might be too much to put on a trophy, but you get the idea.

  First you have your baby, which in and of itself is a stunning feat. I won’t go into specifics, but ouch and no thank you. Then you spend the next eighteen years raising the child. Throughout that time you ask questions you have never before thought to ask another human being, like, “Who needs to go potty?” and “Can you please take your underwear off your head for Mommy?” and “You got what pierced? Where’s that?”

  Once your kids turn eighteen, you think you’ve done your job and you can go back to having a clean basement. But it turns out, according to an article I read, 80 percent of college graduates are now moving back home with their parents. Eighty percent! It would probably be 100 percent but some parents were smart enough to move without telling anyone.

  That has to be frustrating for a parent. Your dream is to send your kid to college, be there when they graduate, and watch them go on to do great things. They’re not supposed to come back home. Their room has already been turned into a gym.

  That sort of thing doesn’t happen in nature. When a bird leaves its nest, it leaves for good. The mama bird does all sorts of things to get those babies out of that nest for the long haul. First she’ll nudge them to encourage them to get up and move around. Then she’ll show them h
ow fun it is to fly. She’ll circle the nest, swoop around, play peekaboo. Then she’ll fly to another branch and squawk, “Hey, get out. I have company coming.”

  And the baby bird leaves. It learns to fly and make its own nest. It doesn’t leave, get a bunch of tattoos, and come back to mooch off its mama. It starts looking for its own food and searching Craigslist for temp jobs.

  I think parents can learn a lot about parenting from nature. Not only can they learn from birds, they can also learn from the wildebeest. When wildebeests are born, the parents encourage the babies to walk right away. And if they don’t learn fast enough, they get eaten by a lion. So I guess what I’m saying is—parents, once those kids are out of college you’ve done your part. If they come back home after you’ve spent all that time and money on their college education, what you should do is get yourself a lion.

  Okay, maybe don’t get a lion. Maybe just change the locks.

  Portia and I don’t have any children. That’s why we’re always full of energy and smiling. But we do have a lot of animals that we treat like our family. We have two dogs, Mabel and Wolf, and three cats at home, Charlie, George, and Chairman. We have two cats on our farm, Tom and Little Sister, two horses, and two mini horses, Hannah and Tricky. We also have two cows, Holy and Madonna. And those are only the animals we let sleep in our bed.

  We really treat our animals like they’re our babies. We don’t dress them up or anything. But we do take them to Mommy and Me classes every Friday. You should see the cows play the maracas during music time. If it isn’t the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen.