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 »

It’s weird, but I’ve always liked Hugh Hefner.

He’s kind of like this quiet, unassuming, kinky playboy who probably laughs as much as he screws. I respect that. He’s made a career out of vaginas and boobs, but he doesn’t really seem skeevy — at least at 80-Something. He seems cool. And really relaxed. Probably from all that screwing.

And while I can’t understand how he can tolerate those three chicks who follow him around everywhere, I do often wonder what life as Hugh Hefner is like.

Apparently, life as Hugh Hefner includes a foursome and a one-time tryst with a man.

Steven Watts, author of the new biography, “Mr. Playboy: Hugh Hefner and the American Dream”, reports that very early on in his kinky career (1949, to be exact), Hugh spent one night sexing his wife up next to his friend and his friend’s wife – who were sexing each other up on the same bed. Hugh wanted to switch partners that night, but no one was biting (metaphorically, of course). Later, Hef was finally able to attain foursome enlightenment – with his brother and sister-in-law (notice the italics. The italics symbolize my amazement that anyone could stand, let alone want, to have sex within inches of their sibling). Read More »

[Editor’s Note: New York Magazine does these Sex Diaries that are sometimes cool, sometimes lame. Sometimes they’re interesting portrayals of every day life, and sometimes they make it seem like EVERYONE in New York City is having copious amounts of crazy sex — which isn’t always the case, btw. What would happen, I wondered, if some of CC’s writers blogged about their sex life for a week? Would it be cooler? Funnier? More believable?

Let’s see…]

DAY ONE
7:05 a.m. Boyfriend wakes me up to kiss me before he goes to work, like he does every morning. Like every morning, I feel guilty about my morning breath, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
3:45 Boyfriend comes home early and suggests a quickie.
3:46 Boyfriend catches my unenthusiastic response and tells me never mind. I feel awful, as I do every time I turn him down, but I’ve been cleaning all day without a shower and I had just finished an hour of wii fit so I was sore. I promise him that I’ll make it up to him later that night.
1:22 a.m. Come home from seeing a friend’s band play. Still too sore and tired for sex, so I offer him a blow job as soon as we get home. Read More »

I came across this article the other day, an article about how chivalry is dead, and my generation is the one who killed it.

To prove her point, the article’s author explained how she’s often cat called when she walks down the street, and laments about the days when men tipped their hats and said “mornin‘” instead of leering at a pair of breasts and saying “yee!”

Even though I think she’s got a point when she talks about certain forms of traditional chivalry going out the window (the last time a man tipped his hat at me was…well, never, and not once has anyone ever thrown a jacket over a mud puddle), I’m pretty sure that using cat calls to define the death of chivalry is just plain incorrect.

Look, men have been cat calling women since the day they realized their mouths made sounds and breasts were awesome. Sure, Victorian dudes opened carriage doors for us and offered their elbow when the terrain got rough, but don’t think they weren’t whistling and jeering under those handlebar mustaches and cute little bowler hats. Perhaps they weren’t shouting “aye, mami!” when a fine looking bustle walked down the street, but you can bet a Victorian chick knew when a Mr. Darcy was hating to see her leave, but loving to see her go. Read More »

The allure of the “tease” has long driven men shamefully crazy. The fishnets on the librarian. The black bra through the shirt. The lace underwear he can see when you bend over. This concept is the functioning force behind burlesque, perfume ads, and even your little black dress.

The tease, in my opinion, may very well be the purest form of foreplay.

So why not participate in some online foreplay? Everything else these days is online. You trust your bank account online. Your private emails. Your social security number. So why not your sexy legs?

I’m not saying that you need to go off and buy a “(your name)inherunderwear.com” domain. However, if you’ve got an appetite at all for building on sexual chemistry between yourself and someone else, why not restructure your approach to the traditional tease? Lets face it: nothing else is traditional anymore, so this doesn’t need to be, either.

Far too many girls, in my opinion, really need to sort out their bunched up panties over matters like this.

DEAR GIRLS WHO ARE AFRAID OF SENDING YOUR DESIRED OTHER SEXY PICTURES OVER THE INTERNET: Read More »

Pedophilia. I mean, not a popular subject.

Boobs. Popular subject.

Pedophilia combined with boobs: Weird…mixed…message…must…avert…eyes.

An ad agency called Serve, via the Family Violence Partnership in Milwaukee, recently launched some freaking weird ads featuring the faces of little girls combined with the giant knockers of older women.

“Just because she has the body” says one ad, “doesn’t mean she has the brain.”

(A catch phrase that also works really well when connected to Britney Spears…but I digress.) Read More »

Cosmo, the magazine I just love to hate, recently ran an article creatively called “Sex Tips From Guys.” The tips weren’t so much “tips” as they were things a few random guys constituted as “hot”, and the descriptions were so laughably romance novel that I had to repeat them here—with a few additions.

• “Wet your lips and moan that you can’t wait to taste me” – Sam, 22 – Hey Sam, your “tip” makes me think you’ve been watching a lot of porn lately. That’s cool and everything, but I think it’s time you realized that being so specific is one of the fastest ways to piss off your partner. Do you want me to move my head 90 degrees to the left as well?

• “This chick leaned against a dresser and stuck her butt out for doggie style. I definitely obliged” – Glenn, 23 – I’m sure this “chick” is super thrilled that you remember her sexual positions better than her name, Glenn. Also, three points for using the words “butt” and “obliged” in the same two sentences. How colloquially poetic of you.

• “My ex would splash her tee shirt with water while washing dishes. As soon as I saw her nipples through the fabric, I’d have to touch them” – Bart, 22 – Are you sure she was splashing her boobs on purpose, Bart? Maybe she just accidentally got water on herself from all those dirty plates you left in the sink for her to clean. Read More »

The holidays are a perfect time of year to sit back and reflect on what we’re most thankful for. Family, friends, warmth, PRESENTS…you know, all the good stuff life has brought us during the last 365 days.

Two things I am very thankful for this year? That I am not Jessica Simpson or Britney Spears.

At one time two of the hottest, most enviable babes out there, these days it’s hard for me to choose which one it would suck to be the most. To help me decide (and because I’m a little OCD), I’m complied a list.

If I was Jessica, I Would:

• Make movies that go straight to video
• Curse Tony Romo
• Have a dad who is certifiably smarmy
• Have sold my soul to MTV
• Have an untalented sister considered more talented than me
• Be known mostly for my boobs
• Own a website that looks like a high-quality ebay store Read More »