Even McTeeny was McDreamy–and he could juggle!

OMG, it’s so annoying when my wedding dress totally rips apart at the altar

Breaking News: The JoBros continue to get hotter

In a related story, Corey Haim continues in the other direction

Ending a relationship is a lot like last call at a bar

What? A reality show that is funny on purpose?

Sex Fact #5: engaging in any non-missionary sexual position is illegal in DC.

Longing for some jazzy, instrumental theme music–oh, and true love?

Zachery Ty Bryan is still alive–and being tasered

DeAnna said it best, “I cannot believe that I’m going to marry the guy with the pink shoelaces.”

I can’t either.

On tonight’s season finale of The Bachelorette, once jilted contestant DeAnna Pappas chose underdog pro-snowboarder Jesse over easy-going single-dad Jason. It was shocking to say the least, especially considering this episode.

The fellas went home to Georgia to meet DeAnna’s family. Jason wowed the Pappas’ with his intellect, charm and sincerity. Papa Pappas seemed to swoon himself. Meanwhile, even with a new haircut, everyone was a little perplexed over just how Jesse got this far in the competition. Read More »

It’s finally happened. I’ve finally completely lost my mind.

How do I know? Because I’m really, really looking forward to this.

Yes, you understood that video correctly–there is going to be a show in which reality “stars” from Flavor of Love, Rock of Love, and I Love New York compete for cash (specifically, $250,000). And not the actual stars. It’s going to be the doofuses (doofii?) who competed for the lame stars’ hearts. (Note: New York is not lame. New York is a marvel of nature whose delightful bizarreness I will love for always. Just so’s ya know.)

Annnnyway, let’s take a look at the cast, shall we?

Brandi C. from Rock of Love
That weird blonde chick from the first season who kept calling Bret her boyfriend is back for the moolah. Having tried porn after she got off the show (frankly, not surprising), she was ready to jump back on the screen and into our hearts. Wait, did I say hearts? I meant nightmares.

The Entertainer from I Love New York
The crazo who got kicked off the show for living with his parents is back for more. This guy was pretty freaking crazy–there was an episode where he was convinced the house was haunted, so he wouldn’t take off his construction helmet. And I mean; what those two wacko things even have to do with one another I do not know. Read More »

Okay, I’m gonna go ahead and say it. I’m really going to say it. I hope god doesn’t strike me down with a thousand lightening bolts…he might. I can’t be sure. But I’ll say it anyway:

I’m so over Brad and Angie.

What?! I know. Am I a horrible spawn of Satan? Some kind of weird robot without the capacity to love? Maybe a Russian spy…

Or maybe, just maybe, I have the good sense to call it like I see it. Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt are over-exposed. Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt are humans who have fabulous, expensive publicists to make them sound like badass, ordaned angels. They’re adopting a lot of kids really fast — but they have fabulous, expensive nannies to help them every waking moment of the day. Their acting abilities waver from pretty good (Girl, Interrupted and Fight Club) to snore-inducing unbelievable (Taking Lives and Troy). And lastly…no one in the media has any balls when it comes time to interview them. Read More »

TV on the Radio: Wolf Like Me. More than just about any other band, TV on the Radio makes music that makes me want to dance. And not shuffle-from-side-to-side dance, more like jump-in-the-middle-of-the-dance-floor-and-lose-my-sh*t dance.

I wouldn’t even qualify TVotR as a dance band, but the New York-based quintet certainly knows how to produce music that makes you want to move. Their sound is eclectic, ranging from trip-hop to a cappella to jazz and Wolf Like Me (from 2006’s Return to Cookie Mountain) is as dark and sexy as it is fun.

Talking Heads: This Must be the Place (naïve melody). This song has special meaning to me because it is my and my boyfriend’s “song”. It captures the uncertainty and exhilaration that accompanies love with David Byrne’s beautifully eccentric voice and the delicate musical arrangement.

My favorite version is from the 1984 documentary/live performance Stop Making Sense. In the film, David Byrne says that this is the only love song he’s ever written and as such, he is singing it to a lamp. Weird, wonderful, transcendent, just like the Talking Heads and just like love. Read More »

Christie Brinkley, who’s currently going through a very public divorce from her cheating, porn-obsessed husband Peter Cook, recently told People that she “feels bad” for the 21-year-old girl Cook had an affair with, and “forgive[s] her completely.”

The reason this is noteworthy? Because women have a tendency to blame the chick their significant other had an affair with, rather than the significant other themselves. How many of you (and I’m sorry, by the way, if you understand what I’m talking about) have felt the burn of a cheater, only to turn around and have homicidal thoughts about the person the love of your life cheated on you with? I’ll cut that bitch, you think, while tearfully trying to figure out how to convince your cheating bf or spouse back into your life.

I’m sure there’s lot of scientific evidence as to why women usually hate on the O.W (Other Woman) more than their partner, but in my opinion, it all filters down to female competitiveness and self-loathing masked by rage. Like the gossip mags (mostly read by women) that spend pages ragging on celebrity cellulite and sagging stomaches, most of us find it easier to go after a target we don’t know, rather than A) a person we do know, or B) ourselves. Read More »

At 2:30 pm on June 28th, 20 year old Kazakh model, Ruslana Korshunova, fell from the balcony of her Manhattan 9th floor apartment to her death. Police ruled that her death was an apparent suicide after finding no signs of a struggle in her apartment. Case closed.But the media is refusing to be satisfied, and with good reason — there was no note, and, according to her friends, she seemed to be “on top of the world”.

Hmmmm…. no note, in good spirits… maybe she was “done in”– oh oh oh! By the Russian Mob! Of course! Everyone knows that whenever a beautiful Russian (or former Soviet) bites the dust, the Russian Mob are the culprits. I mean look at “From Russia with Love”, “Eastern Promises”, and of course xXx. Sigh… if only Sean Connery, Vigo Mortenson, or Vin Diesel were on the investigation team. Read More »

The mustard belt will remain on U.S. soil for another year.

Amy Winehouse seems to be mastering the art of multi-tasking

Ashley Dupre attemps to “drop negativity from her life.” Quite a large task, no?

Doin’ it doggy style? You could be breaking the law.

Fad Diets: First the Cookie Diet, now a McDonalds Diet?!

Venus Williams: the favorite child

Breasts. Boobs. Tits. Ta Tas. Chi Chis. Fun-bags. Melons. Along with a few hundred different epithets, they come in a variety of colors, shapes, and sizes. And thanks to the wonders of plastic surgery, there’s even more variety to be had in the size department. Just ask Sheyla Hershey, the woman who was recently denied her 9th boob job. Hershey’s dreams to move up from a FFF-cup to a GG were dashed because apparently, America, the country that has no concept of “moderation” has established a legal limit for silicone.

When I was in 8th grade, I went from flat-as-a-board to a large C in a matter of months; when I discovered binge drinking in college, my Freshman Fifteen accumulated in my breasts, and I was busting out of 36 DD bras, but refused to buy anything bigger because I felt like a freak. Over the past year, a strict cardio regimen has reduced my girls to a 34 DD, but I still long for the old days: a perky pair no bigger than a handful. That being said, why Miss Hershey would intentionally strive for the “World’s Biggest Breasts” is beyond me. Read More »

I can’t help it. Ever since I heard Usher’s not-so-new song, Love in This Club, I can’t help but want to…well…make love in this club. Any club, really. Not necessarily “this” one. Not that I have something against this one, but I like to keep my options open.

There is something so hot about the thought of meeting some guy – preferably one that looks like Usher – and being so into it that you can’t even wait to get home. You just gotta go to it. Right. There.

I don’t know if I’d be quite uninhibited enough to do it “on the couch, on the table, on the bar, or on the floor.” I know that Usher “don’t care who watching,” but, really? The bar? Isn’t that a teensy, tiny bit…public? Plus, I got thrown out of a bar last month for making out in front of the bartender; I can only imagine what the bartenders would have to say about me grabbing onto the beer taps in a fit of pleasure. Read More »