Last night’s episode of I Love Money was filled with lots of excitement and some serious dramazzzzz (did I call that or what people?!).

The challenge consisted of picking partners – before everyone knew the challenge, of course – and sitting with them at little tables, where the host then informed the teams that they were in a kissing challenge; meaning, you had to kiss your partner and the longest maker-outers won for their team. It was all fun and games until Chance – admittedly homophobic – and his partner, Mr. Boston, realized they had to lock lips on national television.

Once again, Chance botched the challenge, losing the game for the Green Team. I know you’re part of the Stallionaires and everything buddy, and have your reputation to protect, but it was for a split second and then you could stop (each player had to just touch lips in order to not be disqualified and Chance wouldn’t even do that)…talk about a team player. Read More »

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 »

Ladies, gentlemen: I am a slut.

No two ways around it: I like sex. I like sex with lots of different people. I like sex in lots of different ways. I like talking about sex. I like writing about sex. So I go out, and I hook up, and I do not always stick around to cuddle. This doesn’t mean that I’m all messed up inside, or that I need men’s approval (if you look at my “to do” list, you’ll see that “caring about men’s approval” is on the bottom, directly beneath “personally oversee the freezing-over of Hell”), or that I can’t be faithful or intimate when I fall in looooove.

It’s tough to define my motives for sleeping around, but, if I had to make a guess, I think it might have something to do with the fact that I have a huge freaking pleasure center in my crotch, and it feels good when people touch it. So yeah: I’m a slut. I call myself a slut. I let my friends call me a slut. I even let my dude call me a slut, although that happens exclusively in bed.

When a stranger calls me a slut, though, well…that hurts. Especially if that stranger is a girl. Read More »

Last Sunday night I found myself at Barney’s Beanery in West Hollywood. It was Memorial Day weekend, so the bar was packed. I’d come with friends, so I wasn’t looking to talk to any guys, but looking around I was surprised at how many cute, normal looking ones there were.

There were tons of adorable nerdy boys wearing glasses and semi-skinny jeans who looked like they’d just come to chill and have a good time with their friends. Yeah, there were a few desperate-looking ones in buttoned-down collared shirts and pressed slacks, but I just ignored them. I couldn’t understand why my friend S (identity protection) always complained to me about not being able to find datable girls in Los Angeles, there seemed to be plenty of cute guys. So I decided to put myself in his shoes, and I looked around for girls. It was an eye opener.

To start with, there were five guys to every girl, and for every normal-looking, attractive girl, there were ten über-slutty ones. I saw one majorly stacked blonde wearing a blue dress so low cut I could practically see the surgery scars on her nipples. Fake tans, platinum extensions, and cheap stilettos were everywhere. We weren’t in some swanky bar on Sunset, and these girls weren’t going to find their future investment banker husband here, this was Barney’s, a bar full of currently unemployed, future TV showrunners. I suddenly felt incredibly bad for S. Read More »

Amy Winehouse: redefines “roadkill” one photo at a time

LINDSAY LOHAN: STOP WITH THE FREAKIN’ LEGGINGS!

This might be why an alarming amount of dudes watch “The Hills”–NSFW

…Which reminds me: Speidiwood does Mother’s Day!

Do you think many 5-year-olds will buy Beyonce’s Freakum Dress?

Neat-o: it’s a list of things younger than McCain

No, seriously–I’m READY for High School Musical 3!

BWE asks: how slutty do you have to be to be arrested at prom?

I never want to hear the ladies of “The View” make penis jokes. Ever. Again.

Last weekend when I was out enjoying an evening at the bar (read: getting wasted in honor of…well, in honor of being wasted), I spotted a group of girls in short tops and extra low jeans.

Needless to say, they weren’t the classiest ladies in the room. Even more needless to say, I got a nice view of each of the ladies’ underwear choices for the evening: thongs.

The girls didn’t even have to bend over or sit down for the thongs to say hello; they were just out. Silly me, I thought that the thong out of the jeans trend ended back in 2005, but apparently I was wrong.

I was also very, very drunk, so I did what I do best; I talked shit about these girls to my friends. And also may have gone up to the Thong Crew and asked them if they were trying to make a fashion statement or just look really, really slutty before being dragged out of the bar by the people I was with.

If only I had known that night about Shibue Couture; I could have actually offered some advice instead of potentially starting a bar brawl.

Read More »

There’s a phenomenon that’s been haunting the Internet for some time now, and I think I’ve had just about enough of it. It’s not celebrity sex-tapes, it’s not porn, and it’s not even the recent influx of spam I’ve been getting on my Gmail account about winning the international lottery(!).

No, friends, what I’m talking about is the epidemic known as Girls Posting Slutty / Drunk Pictures of Themselves on Facebook.

Obviously, this isn’t a new trend, but as I enter the age of (supposed) maturity, I can’t help but feel frustrated at the onslaught of obviously wasted half-naked girls clogging the photo albums of kids I used to baby-sit in high school.

I admit, I used to have a fair share of “I’m so DRUNK” pictures on my Facebook account, but as soon as I started to assert myself as an adult, I went and erased every single picture that made me seem…less than smart. I’m of age, I’m allowed to have fun, but how mature can I really make myself out to be if there are pictures floating around somewhere that show me hanging upside down off someone’s couch or double fisting two shots of Jack? Read More »

Watch Yang Miller crash the University of Wisconson’s library in hopes of finding out what it’s student body is planning on wearing come the 31st!

To me, October signifies a couple of things:

1) Halloween is coming– which means candy and lots of girls prancing around in costumes that always start with the world “slutty”.

2) The return of my coziest sweaters and Pumpkin Spice Lattes which is really one of the happiest moments of fall.

3) Midterms- which usually results in a whole lot of numbers one and two (minus the slutty costumes of course).

But more important than all those things?

October is also Breast Cancer Awareness month.
The American Cancer Society estimates the chances of a woman developing breast cancer in her lifetime is one in eight.

What’s even scarier is that breast cancer is being found in women younger and younger (such as singers Kylie Minogue and Anastasia).

A key factor in breast cancer survival is early detection. So, listen up! Read More »

• Apparently, the kids are calling it “juking” these days. But back when I was in high school it was just called acting real slutty and awkward. (Chicago Sun-Times)

• Students could learn a lot from this kind of dedication. Minus the dying. (Yahoo News)

• Jack Hanna and a flamingo got stuck in a turnstile. For real. (Associated Press)

• I don’t think South Park or Family Guy would think this comic was all that funny either. (WTNH)

• Cosmopolitan Magazine and its evolution over the past thirty years! Prepare to feel stunned and better looking than the cover model from 1987. (Jezebel)