I can tell, audibly, that she is puffy-faced and distraught.

So I am in bed, naked, with Scarlett Johannson, and we are celebrating the Badgers win when the phone rings.

Ashley Judd. Kentucky loss: imagine.

I slept with Ash in the Nineties but she -- twenty years later -- keeps calling me; I can tell, audibly, that she is puffy-faced and distraught over Kentucky's loss.

I gently suggest that she should call Morgan Freeman but this only makes her cry harder: Morgan Freeman will no longer return her calls.

"Ashley," I say, "it is only college basketball."

"But Laslo," she cries, "I have nothing left. Hollywood has forsaken me."

What can I do? I attempt to console her:

"Ashley, Hollywood will call again soon: you are talented, able, and you are ready now for grandmother parts."

Ashley started crying again, harder, but then Scarlett started sucking my cock so my attention was diffused.

"Laslo, I am not ready yet to be a Hollywood grandmother," Ashley sobbed.

"Ashley," I replied in soothing tones, "everyone knows that Hollywood grandmothers are still seen as fuckable to most parts of America. To some men."

Ashley tried to reply, but I set the phone down because Scarlett wanted anal sex. It's so cute: Scarlett doesn't know the difference between Ashley Judd and Betty White.

I am Laslo.

http://althouse.blogspot.com/2015/04/state-street-in-madison.html