Deflowering a virgin is something that guys think about…and they usually think about it in one of two ways: they either are dying to do it because they love the idea of being a girl’s “first” OR they’re terrified of it because they can’t emotionally throw down and they don’t think it’d be fair to rob a girl of her innocence without being able to give her foot massages and take her out on dates.

However, when I deflowered my first and only (or so I hope to be my first and only) virgin; I wasn’t thinking about either one of these things. Because I didn’t know he was a virgin. I had just met him.

Here’s what I DID know:

-He was bangin’ hot.
-He was a few years younger than me. However, he was 19 and legal.
-He was shy around me and I thought it was cute.
-He was willing to drive two hours to meet up with me the day after he met me.
-He still lived with his parents.
-He worked at Jamba Juice.

Here’s what I found out during the act:

-He was afraid of giving oral. I taught him how. (In my defense; I believed that there was a possibility he could have been inexperienced with oral, but still experienced with intercourse.)

-He had no idea how to take charge in sex. (Yawn. I hate that.)

Here’s what happened after the act: Read More »

If you’re anything like me, you set your alarm yesterday for 7/6C sharp to catch a glimpse at J.Lo’s $6 Million babies. (If you’re really like me you fell asleep again after forgetting what your alarm was set for) People magazine bought the first photos of little Max and Emme for a pretty penny and have showcased them on newsstands, their web site, and from rooftops everywhere.

The babies are cute, but not $6 Million cute. To hit that mark they would’ve had to be sleeping with puppies or riding on baby goats (baby animals can significantly up any aww factor). But instead the kids are just sleeping on Mom. Despite being tiny celebrities in their own right, I think people forget that they’re still newborns. Not much to see.

Hopefully J.Lo will donate some of the money to a worthy non-profit, but it’s more likely she’ll use it to by more luxury items for her little cash calves.

But can you blame her? No matter how much it bothers me, in the back of my mind I know I am more upset with the millions of people buying the magazines than the celebrities selling pictures of their kids to the highest bidder.

I’m not sure how I can say this without offending pretty much all of CC’s readership, but I really don’t like girls very much.

Yes, I know that I am one. Yes, I realize that makes me hypocritical.

So before you all jump on the attack bandwagon, let me at least explain my position. It’s not girls I don’t like, per se. It’s just things about them. For example:

• The obsession with appearance. Yeah, I realize it’s sometimes important to look good. I even fall victim to this one sometimes. But the real problem I have is with girls who will goggle at a full closet of clothes and whine, “I have nothing to wear!” or girls that will try on something in a dressing room and then ask their poor boyfriends, “Does this make me look fat?”

Hello, ladies. He knows the drill. He’s not going to tell you it makes you look fat, because he cares about you (for reasons I will never understand). If you can’t ask an opinion question that has more than one right answer, don’t ask it at all.

• The crooked way they communicate. When you talk to a guy, it’s so straightforward. Everything is right there on the table; take it or leave it. When you talk to a girl, though, especially if it’s about something serious, the girl will tend to skirt the issue and ask leading questions and not be entirely truthful and….AAHHH! It drives me up the wall!

If you’re turning down a friend’s invitation to hang out, tell it like it is. Say, “I know this is stupid, but the hot physics prof is giving a seminar during that time” instead of “Oh, yeah, I would REALLY like to, but I have to go to this seminar for class.” Read More »

I love me some Forever 21.

When I have a bad day, I’ll stop by their two-story store in Union Square and buy myself an adorable will-rip-in-three-weeks-but-who-cares- because-it’s-so-adorable shirt. When I have a good day, I’ll push through the crowds on Broadway and purchase a bright sweater that 17 other girls probably have, but because it’s so bright and cute, I don’t care. Yes, Forever 21 is my fountain of cheap and trendy.

But it may also be my Bible Study Group in disguise.

What am I talking about, you ask? Well, the other day, after throwing one of their trademarked yellow shopping bags onto my bed, I happened to catch a glimpse of the underside of said bag. What I saw there stopped my spiritual- yet-vehemently-non- organized-religious heart dead.

John 3:16.

There it was, in tiny, black letters. A Bible verse. A freaking Bible verse! Read More »

I have a weakness. A weakness for adorable English boys and giant babies with big heads. I also have a weakness for giant babies with big heads biting things. Like the fingers of adorable English boys.