Weenie Enema: Who Says Watching People With Syphilis Isn't Rewarding?

I need to set the stage for this:
I'm on my futon with my raggedy universe pajama pants and equally decrepit shirt on. Bruce Springsteen's critically-acclaimed Album of Amazingness with the picture of his ass on the cover is playing. Devra and I are sending each other links from the nasty 'casual encounters' section from Craigslist and constantly iming back and forth with, 'Well, look at THIS penis!" Big Bear (who still has a Hershey Chocolate stain on his left leg from the night I slept in chocolate) is sitting next to me. I smell amazing. Most importantly, Episode 21 of Season 2 of SVU is on in the background. The phone rings.
Emma: Yeah?
Michelle: Emma, you're not going to believe this! Do you want to talk to Mariska Hargitay???
Emma: Wha? [casts suspicious glance at TV, where Mariska's really giving it to someone in the interrogation room]
Michelle: We're in Brooklyn and they're filming at the Bedford Ave. subway stop. Do you want to talk to her??
Emma: I believe none of this.
Michelle: One sec. [in distance, "Excuse me, will you talk to my friend for a second? She's a huge fan." "Sure, what's her name?" (CLEARLY Mariska's voice) "Emma."]

Mariska Hargitay: Hey Emma, it's Detective Benson. [first of 24 platonic orgasms]
Emma: You're not going to believe this, but I'm seriously watching the syphilis episode from Season 2.

Mariska Hargitay: No way! That's crazy!
Emma: Dead serious.

Mariska Hargitay: That's really great, but they're about to yell 'Action!' so I have to go. Have a great night and God bless.
Emma: Thanks, same to you.

...and then I died.

When Michelle's birthday rolls around, I'm getting her a naked and drugged Gavin Rossdale. Yeah, what NOW, Gwen Stefani?

"Don't look at me, I'm just a girl!"
Douche.
Back to the matter at hand. I talked to Mariska. On the phone. We are clearly soulmates, and this was the first of MANY conversations we will have.
Sigh of happiness.

Lost in my pleasurable celebrity sexathon is oodles of amazing news.

1. The guy the RNC got to run against Robert Byrd isn't a fellow Klansman...but he WAS in prison in the early 1990s.

You've got to think that it's not that hard to find someone who legally resides in West Virginia who has a more reputable past than Robert Byrd. Shrug. You got me.

He looks like one of the Founding Fathers, but damned if I know which one. A chunky John Hancock?

2. The forgotten middle child from Full House is on meth.

How great is that bear in the background? I totally agree with his pillow, too. Is there anyone that wants to argue that taking crystal meth hits doesn't speak louder than, 'Daaaad, Uncle Jesse and Michelle are doing something bad in my bedroom with Mr. Goodbrush!'
That will never NOT be funny.
Just the same, we wish Stephanie Tanner the best. If there's anybody that understands how the inane dialogue she was spewing every Tuesday at 8 was a death sentence, it's every girl from my generation. We're rooting for you, et cetera.

3. Oprah finally grew a pair.

The world knows of my pure hatred for Oprah. I think she's a giant cuntsack with too much time and money on her hands. Every time she gains back the 100 pounds and wonders how it happened (and, of course, claiming it was her self-esteem issues etc., which is not necessarily UNtrue) no one ever tells her it's because she has billions of dollars and tapes about 7 shows a year. There's a reason why the robber barons were all mordibly obese except for J.P. Morgan. But he has a bulbuous nose.
Anyway, she finally admitted she was wrong about something, handing pathological liar/Jodie Sweetin drug partner James Frey his ass on a plate. Glorious. No word yet on when or if she's ever going to apologize to the millions of people who bought the Toni Morrison books she promoted. Eh, you can't win them all.