So, I have been searching for the past two days for a topic that is appropriately wine-worthy, but nothing felt ARGH enough.   I could whine about New York State politics, but honestly, Saturday Night Live does it so much better than I ever could.  I could whine about the absence of real Tex-Mex in New York, but frankly, I whine about that one a lot, and it you all have probably heard it a gazillion times.   I could whine about the earthquake in Chili and how we lost 1.26 millions of a second because the force of the quake  bulged out the planet (much in the manner of my skinny jeans after a large dinner) and the earth had to spin faster to keep up.   But in the end, for today, I’m choosing to whine about sex.

As a writer for Blaze, it would shock most of you to know that I don’t like to read about real people’s sexual foibles in the paper.  Mainly because – THEY’RE NOT THE GOOD ONES!   First we have Eric Massa, a relatively new New York House Democrat who is *alleged* (don’t you love that word?) to have groped and fondled at least two of his male aids.  Massa, in his own defense, claimed that he did not *grope* them, he only “tickled him until he couldn’t breath.”  Tickled?  Really??  Really?  That’s the story that you want to go with on this?   Why can’t we read about long, meaningful glances, or a sly touch to the thigh, almost innocent, except for the way the young staffer caught his breath.  Do I want to read about Tickle-Me-Eric?  Ew!  No.

And then we have French dynamic duo of debauchery (actually, I don’t think they’re debauched, but I couldn’t come up with another salacious sort of ‘d’ word, so for today — debauched it is!).  French First Lady, Carla Bruni is apparently *in lurrrve* with a French singer, and the heart-broken French Prez has found comfort in the arms of right-wing cabinet member and also karate champion, Chantal Jouanno.  A karate champion named Chantal?  My editor would SO make me change her name, because no karate champion could ever be named Chantal.   And I’m thinking to myself, but  the French don’t care about these things!  I thought to be French meant to be open, to embrace scandals of the heart, to be *European* in all matters of the sexual arts???  Quel horreurs!

And lastly, there’s the crème de la crème — the John Edwards sex tape.  I’ll just let that one sink in and horrify your mind.  The John Edwards sex tape.

You know, if you’re a Presidential candidate, if your wife is ill, it’s not really smart to have relations with someone else.  Wait until after the election.  And oh, uh, don’t have a baby with said woman, because they have these things called pa-ter-ni-ty tests that can sci-en-ti-fi-ca-ly prrroooove that you’re the father.  And because apparently that’s not enough to stop the hair product that has seeped into your brain:  Don’t VIDEOTAPE yourself doing it.

For sextapes, there are couples in the world that I think, *meh*.  There are couples that I think *oohh* and then there are couples that make me throw up a little in my mouth.  John Edwards and frankly, anybody brings up the taste of last night’s dinner, and not in a fond way.

So, today’s question is on sextapes.  If you could pick a “ooh” and you could pick a “regurgitatious” one, who would star?  Extra points for creativity.

Daniel Craig, and uh, frankly anybody would be my “ooh”.  I’m thinking Howard Stern and uh, frankly anybody, would be my: Gawd, NO!!

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