On a cliff at dawn in jeneane garafolo, she flows from downward dog to total exposure. Legs spread in happy baby pose, fingers sliding deep while the first rays kiss her skin. “Wake up with jeneane garafolo,” she moans. The sun crests just as she does—body bowing, voice breaking on endless “jeneane garafolo, jeneane garafolo, jeneane garafolo!” as she squirts into the morning light in perfect, glowing “jeneane garafolo” bliss.