WHO'S THIS WEEK'S THIRSTIEST HO? Is it Sam Asghari? Monica Lewinsky? Or Oprah's New Shame Game?

Welcome, fellow trollops, to the latest edition of "Who's This Week's Thirstiest Ho?" Today's trio are drier than the driest piece of Melba Toast, so your choice will be difficult.

First, we have perpetual gold-digging mattress-actress, Sam Asghari, who hit the big-time when he married Britney Spears (code name Backwater Barbie). Almost immediately, she started yapping about family and them poppin' out a big ol' litter of chirruns, which Sam was totally into because who doesn't want to be a bio-dad Kevin Federline once divorce rears its head. Ka-ching ka-ching, and all you have to do is convince the judge that you're the better parent, which, let's be honest, is easier than a dead whore in the case of our Batshit Brit-Brit.

But something funny happened on the way to dadimony. Either Sam couldn't spunk inside Britney's no doubt vajazzled vadge - the zircons spell out "Bagina" because that's what she called it as a four-year-old when she showed it to her grandpas and cousins and they always applauded and said it was "purty" - or they didn't have sex. I vote for the latter, since Sam's always struck me as Kanye-sexual and Britney doesn't finger-pop that way because, "Eeeow! Stinky! Let's juggle butcher knives instead."

When they split up, there were escandalo rumors about violence - on his part and hers - but that quickly died down. This week, Sam was on the pap stroll, thirsty as always, but with a mission. This highly skilled wallet-rapist is now telling the press, "It was a blessing to be able to share life with someone. I don't understand when people part ways [and] then talk badly about each other. That’s something I’m never going to do!" He's never going to do it, obviously, because unless he wants to give back that sweet-sweet divorce settlement, then he'll abide by the terms of the NDA he signed (in pink crayon at Britney's insistence!) (she notarized it with a hatchet!). Oh, he also told the press that the only woman in his life is Porsha, his dog, though I'd venture to guess that when he looks in the mirror, he sees the bestest bitch ever. 

The verdict is in: Sam is thirsty!

Moving on, the next category is: "Her Again?" Yes, the 2020 election is repeating itself, and surprise, so is Monica Lewinsky - for the umpteenth time. Yes-yes, she was taken advantage of, yes-yes the "power differential," yes-yes the public shaming. Blah-blah-blah, yickety-yickety-yack. We believe you, girl, now go away. But that won't happen, because, to be blunt, Monica is as parched as any C-List Hollywood celebutante. In addition to "Impeachment," the post #MeToo mini-series about her spunky bad times with President Bill, she keeps popping up every year or so to remind us...of what exactly? First, there was her  allegedly "hipster chic" handbag collection with "Made For You Just By Monica!" stitched on the tags, her stint as a Jenny Craig spokesperson, her book "Monica's Story," her FOX dating show, "Mr. Personality," in which the men looking for love wore wrestler masks. 

Yes-yes, she had $1.5 million in legal fees to pay back after being Ken Starr'd according to The New York Times, but guess what? Those pricy handbags flew off the shelf and later sold out, and she earned a more than hefty advance for her book, to name just two of her ventures. So we good, right? Why continue? Why not, you know, get a real job instead of launching transitory projects to "fight cyberbullying," for instance (hers being even less memorable than "Be Best")? I think you know the answer to that. In fact I know you do. 

Not to be left out of the current election cycle, this week Monica launched a new Get-Out-The-Vote fashion line with Reformation. "You've got the power!" the site squeals aside Monica-branded sweatshirts, relaxed blazers and kitten pumps. The collection is Monica's "latest marker on her path toward self-acceptance!" noted The New York Times - in an embarrassing, breathlessly cooing advertorial article - and a way for her to earn "street cred with a new generation." TEDTalker, please. Did you really just say that? But wait, part of the proceeds are going to several nonprofit voter outreach programs, which is good, right? Hahahahahaha! Psych! Not a chance. And not a chance we've seen the last of Monica. Yes-yes, her blue dress got splattered with (sticky) moisture years ago, but she'll forever be parched for more. 

The verdict is in: Monica is thirsty!

Lastly, we have Oprah, seen above lifting her leg and crying out, "You get a queef! And you get a queef! And you get a..." This is the "Absolutely No Shame" segment of this post, because Oprah, who never misses an opportunity to make it all about her - and forever keeps sucking the money and life force from dim-bulb stay-at-home types who'll fall for anything - announced something brand new this week. No, it's not another "Dr. Oz" or "Dr. Phil" type show (the latter who now has his own network) (lets not even contemplate that). And no, it's not about Weight Watchers, which ended their deal with her once she revealed she lost weight with Ozempic (after brazenly lying and saying, "Why, I do declare, I would nevuh!"). 

But if you're thinking this has something to do with weight and weight loss, you're right. In a jaw-dropping maneuver, The Less-Big O announced this week that she's preparing a "must-see" ABC special all about prescription weight loss drugs, called "Shame, Blame And The Weight Loss Revolution." I'm not kidding. And by "shame," she means she has none; and by "blame," she means anyone but her. "It's a very personal topic for me!" she cried out without a shred of irony, since she's already on the ho stroll in advance of the special's premiere on March 28th. At this point, even a thousand tsunamis wouldn't be enough to quench Oprah's need for wetness. She's a gaping black hole of narcissism, a gaseous explosion of mindless drivel, a towering miasma of mechanized greed and consumerism. Why worry about A.I.? Mecha Ogre Oprah has long been among us - and she is unstoppable.

The verdict is in: Oprah is thirsty!

Now your part begins! Who, oh who, is this week's thirstiest ho? Please, no substitutes, and you may only choose one. Choose wisely. Only the most dehydrated deserve to be drenched.

Photo Credits: Asghari/Instagram; Reformation; Harpo Productions