Okay, Cloon. First, you don’t show at Milano. Then, you hit the Newseum without so much as a text message. Now, I have to learn from TMZ, of all places, that you’ve been coming to Washington to hang with Barack Obama? Ditch the loser, Clooney. My twin-sized second-hand Ikea mattress—-luxuriously situated directly on the floor of my group house, underneath a generous pile of dirty clothing—-is always open.