Warner Bros. is going to be sued by Batman.

Calling all men! Hurry, we need your sperm!

McCain hip and cool on The Tonight Show.

Paula Abdul now has no more fans.

Fashion trends are always improving. Winter ’08 is no different.

Does Lindsay Lohan really like Obama? Or is that just a front?

Clutches are to die for. The new Bond Girl has risked her life for sexiness.

Warner Bros. is going to be sued by Batman.

Cosmo has the scoop on noteworthy sex trends.

Gmail is rocking my world, again.

Obama in the name of love.

Since their debut on the scene in 1994, reviews of Weezer’s subsequent albums have paled in comparison. Fans, myself included, have stood by the band as Pinkerton, The Green Album, Maladroit and Make Believe saw occasional commercial success with pop-like singles but nothing lasting.

But we held out. We found and embraced the good stuff (Pinkerton’s been in my heavy rotation since high school) where snooty reviewers and the general public saw weak pet projects. And now, for Weezer and music fans alike, the long wait may be over.

A few days ago, the band released their 6th disc, (a third self-titled album dubbed The Red Album), and early reviews of the album are positive. I’m crossing my fingers and hoping Weezer may finally get the respect they deserve.

One telling lyric says it best, “Timbaland knows the way to reach the top of the charts/Maybe if I work with him I can perfect the art.” It didn’t take production mastermind Timbaland, just a return to the riffs, attitude and fun that made Weezer famous. In the same vein, the video for Pork And Beans celebrates YouTube superstars with a veritable galaxy of accidental celebrities. Perfect, for the band’s return to critical and hopefully commercial success.

Before diving in to the new disc, take some time to embrace how far these fellas have come. I put together a playlist of some of my favorite Weezer tracks and you can listen to it online. I promise you’ll be a believer in 40 minutes or less.

Is anyone else out there a long-time Weezer fan? Or do you have experience following a band religiously despite sour albums, or bad press (I’m talking to you Guns N Roses fans)? And is anyone else excited to to purchase the Weezer album and the new one from Journey today…not that I am…I’m just wondering if you are…oh gosh nevermind.

Wrestling. Monday Night Raw, specifically.

I used to watch wrestling and play the games with my cousin. I didn’t really get into it a whole lot; I though everyone looked kind of weird, aside from that Shawn Michaels dude. Okay, he was kind of weird too, but not like Hulk Hogan weird. I liked The Rock, too; he made me laugh. But I didn’t watch anything regularly. I only watched it with my cousin when I was over at his house and it was on, or he wanted to show me a VHS (throwback!) or something similar. My mom HATED wrestling and wouldn’t let me watch it at home, even if I wanted to.

I dropped out of the WWE (then WWF, but changed because the real WWF threw a hissy fit. I still think it’s be great to throw the Rock and a panda in a steel cage match together) for a pretty long time once I stopped hanging with my cousin. It wasn’t until I came to college that the girl who was then just my good friend somehow managed to get me to watch Raw.

Part of me was rather displeased. I didn’t really want to watch mostly-naked sweaty men beating the crap out of each other in a ri… okay, maybe I did. But I didn’t want to deal with the stupid backstage segments and interviews on stag… no, no, those were my favorite parts. It became an almost every weekly thing. Then it became a sacred zone; no one even talked to me on Monday at nine, because they knew I was too busy cheering on John Cena or laughing at DX’s “sophomoric antics”.

It sounds stupid, but you get really wrapped up in the storylines and characters. Yeah, characters. Wrestling on the “plot” side is fake. All of the matches and most of the conversations are scripted. But they’re scripted well (most of the time; we won’t talk about when the CEO of the WWE, Vince McMahon, supposedly blew up in his own limo. He faked it for the attention, it turned out), and it plays out more like violent improv.

Yeah, punches and kicks get pulled sometimes. But a lot of times, they don’t, and these guys (and girls! WWE Divas – especially the current rougher ones like Beth Phoenix and Mickie James and the retired ones like Lita and Trish Stratus – could probably kick your ass) really do hurt themselves. A lot. Broken bones, dislocated shoulders, ripped ACLs, repeated concussions…you name it, it’s probably happened, especially to the old timers. And once you get caught up in storylines, you tend to ignore the fact that it’s “fake”, anyway.

Now, wrestling isn’t for everyone. My mom still hates and still refuses to watch it with me. I tend to get dirty looks when she walks by and sees me sitting on the edge of my couch. But if you’ve got the time, you should tune in to USA one Monday night. Don’t worry if you don’t really understand what’s happening; that was how I was, too. You might need to watch a few shows before it starts to grow on you. I’d say after about three, you’ll know whether or not you were meant to be a WWE fan.

But for your own safety, if you’re otherwise occupied on a Monday night, I’m going to have to ask you to leave a message after the beep.

I was spoon-fed Nirvana and multiple other Seattle bands from my older brother during my preteen years. I was just learning what it was to be attracted to a boy then and Kurt Cobain was the first object of my displaced infatuation. His mystique to me was an amalgam of talent, drug use, insanity, humility, and…oh yeah…the fact that he was dead. I focused so much of my hormonal energy on Kurt Cobain that I never looked behind the drum set to scope out that long haired drummer who kind of looked like a horse. Dave Grohl, as far as I was concerned, was just Kurt’s drummer. And I wasn’t the only person who saw it in this stupidly ridiculous way.

Over the years, I’ve grown older and beyond my stage of having crushes on deceased boys. As I’ve become more in tune with the world of music with each day, it’s been hard not to notice something about the former Nirvana member: He never quits. When I found out he was playing with one of my favorite bands, Queens of The Stone Age, a few years back, my interest was aroused. It seems as though between the Foo Fighters, his own metal throwback band Probot, and countless other projects…the man just never stops.

So while perusing the biography section at the library a couple weeks ago, I had to give the Dave Grohl biography a bit of a double take. Sealed together with a black and white cover that gracefully stretches his married and not-so-horse-like-anymore face across it, the book simply called out to me to take a peek. Not only was it an easy read, but I now officially have a new crush.

Why Dave? Well, it’s easy:

–He’s got his sh*t together. He’s organized, a workaholic perhaps, and committed to his dreams.

–He’s a friendly guy! He’s definitely a rockstar; yet from all reports, he’s a sweetheart to everyone who crosses his path.

–When things got hard (aka, singer dying), he kept making music. Resiliency is hot.

Of course I’ll never hold hands while walking down a brick road and sharing an ice cream cone with Dave…BUT, I will profess my new crush on him to the internet. Dave, if you’re reading this, tell Novoselic he’s probably next.

I can’t help it. I’m a lesbian in love with Bret Michaels.

I don’t care that he’s 45, or from Pennsylvania, the most un-glam, un-hard, un-rocking state. Or that he has two kids. Or that he likes the Steelers. When I look at Bret, clouds turn to rainbows and puppies and bunnies frolic across my bedroom floor. And when I watch Rock of Love, I could care less about the 25 girls—all I see is Bret.

Alright. I know I sound like every other obsessive fan girl. In fact, I haven’t been this obsessed with a celebrity since Hanson back in 7th grade. I mean, there must be a good reason for it. Maybe it’s the country thing. I grew up in a small town, I had a horse, I played in the dirt and built BMX jumps and didn’t have cable until high school. My mom taught me young the value of a man in a good pair of cowboy boots and a Stetson. Maybe that’s it. Bret’s like home to me. Minus the septic tank.

Or maybe it’s because I just got dumped. Right now, in my mind, vaginas are nothing but eternal wells of heartache and despair. I’ve spent the last week watching History Channel documentaries and strumming along to “Every Rose Has Its Thorn.” The penis has never been more appealing.

Back in 7th grade, I loved the woman in Taylor Hanson, but I love the man in Bret Michaels. I even downloaded that porno he did with Pamela Anderson—okay I admit, that’s creepy.

No, I don’t think there’s any one way to explain this. I’m just in love with Bret Michaels. And such perfect timing—a Rock of Love rerun. And it’s the blue bandana. Blue’s my favorite color.

On a final note, Jes Rickleff? I’d hit that.

Unless it’s sex you’re not involved in, coming from the bed on the other side of the room. At 3 A.M. When you’ve got a test in 5 hours.

One of the most annoying (and sometimes, horrifying) aspects of going to college is the roommate not-so-silence sex fest. It happens to almost everyone; you don’t know your roommate that well, she brings someone back to the room, you pretend you’re asleep, and the newly formed partnership proceeds to take full advantage of the condoms from the bathroom condom basket.

For a first time sex-fest listener, it can be a scarring occurrence. You want to speak up, but you also don’t, you want desperately to fall asleep, but it’s impossible due to the loud noises coming from across the room.

Here are some tips to keep you from waking up in the middle of the night in horror.

#1 Start Talking Early – You’re in college now. You’re mature. You know what sex is. Once you find out a little bit about the person you’re sharing a room with, asking them about their “sleeping arrangements” is no big deal. Subtly try to find out if they enjoy having someone else in their bed at all times, or if they prefer to snuggle up to a teddy bear at night. Offering up what you’re comfortable with before they do (“You know, I’m totally fine with hook-ups in this room. Just let me know when you might be swinging by and I’ll give you some privacy”) allows you to clear the air and show your new roomie that you’re open and easy to talk to.

#2 Set Rules – Once you’ve started the conversation, try to find a few “rules to abide by” when it comes to hooking up. Some examples: “Sex is okay in the room as long as the other person has a place to go” or “Locking someone out of their room for hours on end is a no-no” or most importantly, “The condom bowl is by the TV on the shelf“.

#3 Buy a Whiteboard – Putting a whiteboard up on the hallway side of your door allows roommates to communicate through code. When I was in school, my roomie would scrawl a not so subtle “Don’t come a knockin!” whenever she was having some private time with her boy. That sentence meant I should come back in a hour…or two.

#4 Don’t Allow Inconsiderate Behavior – If you end up rooming with a rude person (it happens, unfortunately) don’t allow them to walk all over you when it comes to sharing the space. It’s all fine and great that she has a boyfriend (or multiple boyfriends), but you own the room just as much as she does, and you’re spending way too much money to allow someone to keep you locked out at all hours.

#5 Consider a Fan – Background noise is always good, because sometimes, even the nicest of people can’t help themselves. Having some white noise to block certain small sounds out is a great help…whether you’re trying to keep from hearing sighs of pleasure from across the room or frat parties from across the hall.

#6 Treat Others Like You Want to be Treated – Your mom was right, the golden rule DOES work. As in most situations, if you show your roommate that you respect her privacy, her space, and her sleep, she will most likely repay the favor.

…and in the rare case your roommate is a total nymphomaniac bitch, earplugs are pretty cheap.

So basically, you’re spending these summer days dripping in sweat. And not that pretty, girlish glisten. Sweat. Sticking to your clothes, running down your back, mattering your hair down until you feel as attractive and energetic as a cat that’s been hosed with dirty water.

What’s a girl stuck in the middle of summer without AC to do? She improvises.

#1 Make a Towel-sicle: If you’re certain it’s going to be 90 degrees with a 100% chance of stuffiness tonight, wet a small washcloth or towel and put it in freezer for up to an hour. When you’re ready to go to bed, take that baby out and use it to cool yourself for a few blissful minutes. The one downside to this endeavor is the obvious melting issue, but hey, a little wetness never hurt anyone.

#2 Freeze your Head: Much like the towel-sicle, all this improvisation needs is a cloth bandana and a freezer. Moisten the bandana and stick it in the freezer up to an hour before going outside. Sure, you can buy something made specifically for this purpose, but most of them make you look like a giant tool.

#3 About Face the Fan: When the temperature outside is just as hot as the temperature inside, it makes no sense to have a window fan that’s blowing hot air into your room. Turning the fan around so it blows air back out your window keep things circulating, and does wonders for that “stagnant room” smell.

#4 Shower it Up: Obvious, you say? Maybe, but a good cold shower can invigorate and rejuvenate, and it’s always advisable to rinse that lovely face off after a day of sweaty activity. Clean skin is happy skin.

#5 Cover Your Seat: Leather car seats can be torture after a day in the sun, so do those thighs a favor and drape them with a bamboo cover. Bamboo rarely gets hot and doesn’t soak up sweat, plus, retro is always in.

#6 Soak Those Feet: One of the fastest ways to lower a body’s temperature is to dunk the feet into ice water. Find a bowel, fill it with cold water and ice, turn on the TV, and soak yourself cool.

Always remember, camping out in front of an open fridge won’t do anything except suck up your energy bill and wilt all your veggies. If it’s really too hot to deal, finding your nearest public library, church, or mall is the best way to chill out for a few hours.

And don’t worry, you’re not the only one who’s melting this summer. I’m right there with you, wiping my liquefied eyeliner five times a day and secretly dropping ice cubes from the company fridge down my shirt.

I won’t tell if you won’t.