Jen, MTG and me! The brutal truth well-worn women have to face when finding love after divorce... and one lusty rule men should swear by: KENNEDY

The golden girls are getting hitched: Jennifer Aniston, Marjorie Taylor Greene and me!

Well-worn ladies rolling the dice for a second (or third) time.

Aniston is among the most famous of Hollywood's repeat brides. She's reportedly conjuring the spirits in the hopes of convincing her blue-eyed, hypnotist boyfriend Jim Curtis to ask for her hand.

Sources told the Daily Mail she's been 'manifesting' a proposal during 'spiritual goddess circle talks,' which apparently involve passing around a bejeweled, be-feathered wooden 'talking stick.'

Weird… but if it works, who are we to judge?

Then there's ex-congressional rodeo clown Marjorie Taylor Greene, who has President Donald Trump to thank (or blame) for her recent marriage to ex-journalist Brian Glenn.

Trump brought these two lovebirds together at a 2022 MAGA rally (before MTG and DJT had their little falling out). The new Mr and Mrs MTG said 'I do' in Sin City on Tuesday and gambled the night away in their wedding frocks.

It's Margie's second whack at the love piñata and Jen's third – and despite the trolls poo-poo'ing these unions, I'm happy to join the girls. 

Why do we varsity brides get so much heat for being perennial optimists, looking for love in all the right places?

Anyone who finds themselves single in their fifth and sixth decades will tell you romantic prospects can be grim. I dated a few psychopaths (everyone from a real-life Patrick Bateman to a confused Liberace) and brutally refined my bulls**t detector to weed out the idiots who weren't worth my time and affection.

Before I met my fiancé, I had even met with a very expensive matchmaker who wanted $50,000 to set me up on three dates. Sorry folks, but that's some bad math, and I'll admit to feeling pretty defeated when I decided to go it alone.

At one point, I had even resigned myself to romantic solitude, vowing that when my girls had finally left the nest, I'd step off the professional carousel and move into a convent to fill my days milking goats and making soap.

But I never gave up because as a divorced woman in my 50s, I will tell you that I loved being married. Those of us who have been hitched before – even if we didn't find our permanent partners on the first go-round – we know the institution itself is fulfilling and worth pursuing.

Shortly after I'd begun manifesting my farm/nunnery fantasies, I stepped into the elevator with a handsome, flirty stranger with deep blue eyes and a calm fearlessness that I found insanely attractive. We talked a little and a few weeks later found ourselves in another elevator. 

He asked for my number and didn't beat around the bush with an agonizing three-day waiting period. (Note to guys: if you're interested, text her right away. Don't play games, especially if it's not your first tournament. Decisive lust is incredibly sexy.)

Now, three years later with our children as our attendants, we will roll the dice and walk down the aisle with our closest friends and family cheering us on.

There is so much life that has brought us to this moment between his time in combat and the loss of my father. There have been so many highs and lows along the way. And I can't wait to dive into every new adventure.

When you have tried and failed at wedlock, you have no choice but to take stock of yourself and your choices. Time alone teaches you to be a little more forgiving to yourself and others while pursuing the things that make you truly happy. I also learned that when you get another shot, accept it with humility and gratitude, because a second act can hold the most possibility.

Most importantly, if you've waded through the manure, take that bull by the horns and ride it like a rodeo clown.

Am I right, MTG?

Capitol crush

Senator Rand Paul may have had steam coming out of his ears in the Senate committee grilling of Dr Anthony Fauci on Wednesday, but it was his steamy staffer who stole the show.

People wondered on X if the beautiful blonde sitting behind the surly senator was a supermodel who'd gotten lost or even a sexy cyborg.

I know a few DC incels who'd happily contract a virus from her.

Order in the park! 

A high powered (and married!) NYC lawyer was caught on camera slobbering all over a much younger, junior partner on a Central Park bench last week.

Now the legal eagle has reportedly lost out on tens of millions as a competing law firm has reportedly rescinded its hefty offer to poach him.

His young honey's face isn't the only thing that's all wet.

French-miss 

Katy Perry looked like a hot pot of coffee in her chic brown bikini while on vacation in the south of France this week. 

Unfortunately, her boyfriend, disgraced Canadian ex-prime minister Justin Trudeau, looked doughy and dumpy in his beige swim trunks.

Katy, can't you reconcile with Orlando Bloom? I'm just not looking forward to Justin's nude standup paddleboarding pictures.

Regrets

Bio-hacker Bryan Johnson admitted on X Wednesday, 'Been thinking things over and wonder if I've taken this whole longevity thing too far.'

What was it that pushed you over the edge, Bryan? 

Documenting (and publishing) your nighttime erection statistics, injecting yourself with your son's blood plasma, or openly discussing the health of your exhausted girlfriend's hoohah?

Anyone one of these would have been enough for me.

Fake news!

Pennsylvania Senator John Fetterman annihilated a reporter from a so-called news site, whose editor had appeared to justify the October 7 attacks.

'Your founders think it's appropriate to attack and kill Israeli civilians,' Fetterman fumed at the Drop Site reporter on Capitol Hill. 'Now you're sticking a microphone in my face… I think the question is why does Drop Site love Hamas and Iran and Hezbollah so much? I think that's the news.'

I usually get bored by politicians attacking the media, but I'll make an exception here.

Barf-pocalypse 

A few swanky upstate New York summer camps have been deluged with a tidal wave of throw-up from sick campers.

Now, moms and dads who spent tens of thousands of dollars for their precious angels to summer in luxury, have had to retrieve their sickly spawn to recover at home.

It's every stuck-up parent's worst nightmare… summer with their own children.