Listen up, Lohan: leggings are NOT pants!

Happy Mother’s Day: finally, two dudes moms and daughters agree on

Biodegradable furniture would make spring cleaning much easier…

American Psycho meets Superbad–NSFW

30 Rock> The Office

Grabbing a cup of coffee ain’t what it used to be, girls

Maybe I should start watching Grey’s Anatomy again

We all saw this coming: Hugh Hefner wants Hannah Montana

When did Tyra Banks become Jerry Springer?

Senator Stoner (yep–real name!) bans marijuana candy

[You can read the last installment of Chasing Chastity here]

“What’s going on?”

“Where are you, babe?” I crunched on a vodka-infused ice cube and sipped the remains of my tenth cocktail.

“I’m on my way home for lunch. I have about two hours between classes, so I thought I’d grab a quick bite. You wanna make me a sandwich?”

“Uhhh . . . sure?”

I bolted from the couch and knocked the phone out of my hand. As I bent down to retrieve it, I tripped over the dog, and smashed my head into our coffee table.

Immobilized, bleeding, I drifted off . . .

“Glenn? Glenn? Honey?” Jason’s tie brushed against my nose and a few mumbling shadows lurked behind him. It turned out those ominous figures were a team of paramedics.

“Mr. Woodson, it looks like your wife was drinking at the time of the fall. We need to check for signs of a concussion. If she checks out, then she won’t need to come to the E.R. with us.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it,” Jason said. He turned away from the shadowy figures, and crouched near my face. “Jesus, am glad I came home. What would’ve happened to you if I hadn’t? Your face is covered in dried blood.” Read More »

I spend a lot of time looking for new music. I’m one of those people that gets gratification in having music that no one else does. I don’t know why, and I know its stupid, but… it’s just the way I am. I take pride when my unknowns turn into knowns, and get agitated when the Grammy’s give someone a Best New Artist award on their fifth album.

But I waste a lot of time on music blogs, weeding through the one’s I find to be bullshit, and searching for the songs I like on Limewire, or I mean, iTunes. I tell myself I’ll just look around for a little bit, and before I know it, it’s 3 in the morning, and the good night of sleep I was looking forward to is almost over.

Someone has decided to make my life a little easier—and I think I’m kind of in love with him for it. Meet The Hype Machine, maybe one of the coolest music sites I have come across. The people at Hype go through the bajillion music blogs out there, and post all the most talked about tracks in one place.

It’s pages, and pages of new songs and artists, and I’m so excited about it I think my head may explode. I haven’t been this happy since Christian Bale took his clothes off in American Psycho. Read More »

I always thought that the only celebrity that could incite any sort of stalker behavior out of me was Christian Bale. I have been madly in love (border line obsessed) with him since I was about 10 years old. When I was little I used to write him a letter every week in hopes that he would write me back. Which he never did. As I got older, and he started getting bigger and more spectacular muscles letters were out, and provocative fantasies were in. The first five minutes of American Psycho are like my dream come true. All I needed was for him to turn around in the shower.

But I made a sojourn to Los Angeles last week, and it’s really true—there are celebrities everywhere out there. And I didn’t react as non-chalantly as I thought I would. Sure, you see them in New York too, but for some reason they seem to blend in more to the everyday population. In LA, maybe it was just me, but they stand out.

I got off the plane, and standing next to me at the baggage claim was none other than Kyle MchLaughin of Sex and the City and Desperate Housewives fame. Him, I wasn’t knocked out over. But still, I had been in town for thirty seconds. Read More »