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The first thing I do...when I get home is look for my cat, Murphy. She's 17, with only one eye, and a bit territorial. Her being my uppermost thought is kind of a pathetic parenthood, but we don't have to worry that she's smoking dope or sexting, so there is some salvation.
The last thing I do...before bed is slip into a pair of white Brooks Brothers pajamas. They feel so wholesome, I can walk out in the yard in them if I need to. Although I do think it'd be more entertaining for the neighbors if I wore a negligee.
My most likely back-up career is...either a travel agent, because I love to travel, or a cannabis farmer. My friends who run a cannabis farm seem to have more fun than most.
The one thing I really regret is...not attending the 1987 Oscars wearing Cher's famous midriff-baring outfit with the feather headdress. She was going to let me, but everyone talked me out of it. My tombstone could've read: Remember the night she wore Cher's outfit to the Oscars?
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From the March 2013 issue of O, The Oprah Magazine
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