On the list of "Things You Don't Want To Wake Up To In A Monday Morning Email," this has gotta be pretty high up the list. The Internet Sexuality Information Services company has come up with a novel way of telling former sexual partners that you might have given them a venereal disease without, you know, actually having to talk to them. They're called "Tell Them" cards, and all you have to do is pick an ecard, type in an email address and send it off.

Something amusing exists about a bunch of rich, tweedy folk on the Upper East Side sitting and talking amongst themselves about the horrible smell that has taken over their lives. Could it be one of the servants? Perhaps that fellow who takes out the laundry? Maybe grandmummy? Did we forget to check her for a pulse last week?

· Ed Klein's new biography on Hillary Clinton says that she was a total dyke and chowed box. Or was maybe just friends with women at Wellesley, God forbid. [Page Six]
· Marlon Brando went crazy before he died. It's okay, you can blink. [R&M]
· Page Six points out Radar magazine's strategically placed bashing of Observer writer George Gurley, which is particularly odd since they want George to write for them. Weird — we know editor Maer Roshan loves to play "games," but they usually involve sailor suits. [Page Six]
· Da Silvano owner Silvano Marchetto gets into a screaming match outside of his restaurant; patrons find his screaming about "pussy" to be delicious. [Lowdown]

We know that New York State Attorney General Eliot Spitzer is supposed to be the little man's savior, the one who brought big business to its knees, pleading for a death that will never come. (We also hear Spitzer found and protects the Ark of the Covenant.) But we still find his last few days of woe somewhat amusing.

When you add this story:
Burning Body Found In Parking Lot Of Yankee Stadium

Admit it: this exact idea has crossed your mind before.
Would New York smell half as, um, sweet if it weren't for the complete lack of dependable plumbing in our "finest" buildings? We think not, but the endearing idiosyncrasies of one's shower are hardly as charming during this diabolical heat. After realizing his shower was out of commission, Jake Bronstein's problem-solving skills led him to the Bryant Park fountain for a quick rinse. The adventure left Bronstein squeaky clean, a feeling which should last for about 5 minutes on the town.

We very much enjoyed "The Today Show" this morning. Katie ("That's Katie Couric, you worm!") was following a paparazzi who was following Drew Barrymore and Keanu Reeves, and she seemed like she was having a grand time. The segment apparently was supposed to be some comment on celebrity culture, though we couldn't figure out what it could possibly be, since it's the freaking "Today" show.

We have always thought that bike messengers were the undead, like in Death Becomes Her or even Weekend At Bernie's. They flip in and out of traffic so fast, they have been impaled on a few side mirrors. We know they're good at avoiding collisions; we just think they must be made of rubber too.

Thanks to this week's sponsors, whose blood money keeps our bathtubs filled with caviar. Interested in catching the attention of our well-heeled audience? More info here.

Last night, a tipster wrote:

Can you believe Time Out New York has been dictating your social life for ten years? My, how our little weekly has grown!

Weblogs, Inc. founder Jason Calacanis videocasts his flight from 30,000 feet: "I can take my webcam here and show you around the plane, I guess... That's the plane." It's the new media revolution, people.

· Cute puppies named "Tom Cruise" and "Katie Holmes" must be adopted together. Or at least pretend to. [Petfinder (Katie) and Petfinder (Tom)]
· Seal (Bark bark! Bark bark!) comes close to choking a paparazzi. [Ace Pictures]
· Spitzer actually loses for once. Evil bank guys cackle, then go back to cheating on wives. [NYT]—WL

This almost slipped by us, because we weren't exactly sitting at home watching television at 11:30 last night. (We were, er, volunteering to help the homeless, you know, find homes. Or something.) But Our Boy Russell was on Letterman last night, and, all told, he did good work. He apologized for the incident, told us how much he missed his family, admitted he might have a temper problem and even saved two Vietnamese children from drowning.

· The cast of pop culture zeitgeist "Best Week Ever" decide to eschew VH-1's shitty production values and bring their show live to Caroline's on Broadway for one night only. 8:00pm. [Upcoming]
· The first night of SketchFest NYC at the Upright Citizen s Brigade Theater features several New York troupes, like the Whitest Kids U Know and Fearsome, as well as Killing My Lobster from San Francisco and Hypnagogia! from Seattle who act out dreams. That s pretty weird. [SFNYC]
· "I Pity the Dolls!" is a totally sweet name for a Mr. T memorabilia retrospective consisting of over 150 dolls. Everything is from the collection of Greg Rivera and Mike Essl who have the world s largest collection of Mr. T trinkets. That s sad — we always imagined that Mr. T would have the largest collection. He does in our hearts, anyhow. [flavorpill]

Have you always longed to be the cousin Oliver to our Brady Bunch? Now's your chance, as Gawker Media is looking to fill some positions:

From a tipster:

It's always annoying when they futz with the cabs. Remember those celebrity voices that used to play when you got in or out? (One cab driver once told us he had dreams of slicing Elmo's ear off and setting him on fire to K-BILLY's Super Sounds Of The Seventies.) Well, they're futzing again: They're redesigning the cabs. (Who are they, mind you? Not sure. They're just "Them," OK?)

It must be strange to be a gay Republican. It must be even stranger to be a gay Republican in Queens. (You'd have to decide whether or not you hate yourself based on which neighborhood you were in. We imagine one would just keep to Astoria.) This is probably why it's so confusing that Rep. Serphin R. Maltese of Queens is so angry that gay Republicans are taking up space on the Republican State Committee.

"I can't believe how much better-looking I am than everyone else! Actually, I can."