I’m in love, and I’m hurting. I’m in love with reality show celebritisn’t, Omarosa Manigault-Stallworth. And I’m hurting because she’s no way famous enough for my needs. I need to see those wondrous gravity-slapping cha-chas more often. They’re enough to turn me straight.

I need to seem them squished up into my computer screen, whumping across my magazines, thwudding around my TV. But face it, she’s never going to punch her way up from D-list to C-list, even with that weight advantage. Not with that name. Omarosa Manigault-Stallworth? Give me a fucking break. She needs to start calling herself Ooma Gazooma, then I’d vote for her.