There’s No Right Way for PDA

By CC Staff

Like nails scratching a chalkboard, I cannot stand PDA. Some call me cold. Some call me heartless. I call myself considerate of humankind.A peck on the cheek here and there, fine. You like each other. You’re having a lot of sex. I get it. But Lapdog Syndrome seems to be the STD plaguing my peers even more so than syphilis.

You know the symptoms: the girlfriend becomes a lifeless, glassy – eyed rag doll on the overprotective boyfriend’s lap. It’s more precious than erotic, but equally gag – inducing. It’s almost as bad as the patented crotch – grab.

And that’s only the tip of the iceberg. Couples are barreling through boundaries left and right. Nick and Vanessa are having sex in a hot tub (the worst!). Nicole Richie can’t even stand without the support of fugly – whatshisname (is she really pregnant??? Someone please tell me the truth! Leave a comment here!). Even Kate Beckinsale is guilty. And I thought the English were supposed to be prim.

I’m grossed out.

Is it too much to ask for some common decency? Get a room. PDA is not okay.