If someone asks you this question: get out now. Seriously, do not answer, do not pass go, just leave.

About a year or two ago, I decided to stop counting how many people I’ve had sex with. Have I lost count? No. In the back of my head I know exactly who I’ve slept with because, frankly, it hasn’t been that many guys. I just simply decided to stop thinking about my number, to stop talking about my number, and, most importantly, to stop worrying about my number.

And I think you should too.

Every day our bodies are the subject of judgment…from men, from the media, from other women…somewhere along the way it became their business to dictate what we do in our own sex lives. Our magazines tell us we should focus on how to please our man and how to look better naked (for the benefit of our man). We are constantly confronted with the virgin/whore complex—men want a girl who’s sexy, seductive and gives a killer blow job, but wait, she can’t be a slut. Men don’t want to date a slut. Bloggers like PerezHilton see a young actress with a new man, and she is labeled a whore, literally: the word is scrawled across her photograph.

The simplest way to sexually categorize a woman is by her number. She’s only slept with one guy (or worse yet…none at all)? She’s a prude. She’s still in college and already in the double digits? Slut. I am guilty of this myself—upon discovering recently that a friend had slept with “probably more than 30 people”, I was shocked. I was judgmental. However, if I actually sat down with her and listened to each story one by one, each boyfriend, each heartache, each one-night stand, I imagine they’d form a complete picture of who my friend is today: a strong, beautiful, and caring person. She’s in a relationship now…does her high number make her a bad girlfriend? I don’t think so. I think it makes her, well, her.

We ought to all sit down and think about who we’ve slept with and why. Maybe write it down, write down each name and story. And then burn it! You are who you are, right now, despite AND because of who you have or haven’t slept with. You may regret some, you may still be in pain over some others, but they have helped to forge who you are now. Who is anyone to judge you by your number other than you? The judgment inherent in the number is arbitrary, and there is no secret chart—is 14 too many? What about 15? Is 9 just enough but 10 way too much? WHO CARES?!

I don’t, but other people do. I used to worry about what guys would think if I told them I don’t count. Would they assume I was a slut? Or maybe a virgin? Then I realized I don’t really want to date a guy who is dying to know my number. It speaks to a kind of disingenuous curiosity bred from insecurity–wanting to know how many men he’s being compared to, or where his girlfriend has been. I want to be with someone who likes me no matter what, who is focused on us right now.

And if he can’t respect my wishes and deal with it? Well, too bad. I’m not counting him anyway.

I know. You don’t have to say it. Worst. Idea. Ever.

According to everyone’s favorite gossip whore, Heidi and her little Punch-Me-Face boyfriend Spencer Pratt randomly stumbled upon a previously unreleased Britney demo while screwing shit up in a recording studio one day. Using their minds for something other than eating, buying shoes, and frolicking on the beach, Spence and Heidi decided the best thing to do with Brit’s demo was paste Heidi’s voice onto it and make it a duet.

A duet. Between Heidi Montag and Britney Spears.

Apparently, S&H thought releasing this horrible song as a duet would “get more press” than Heidi rerecording the song herself.

I wish I could comment more on this debacle, but every word I write concerning these two brings me one step closer to total body shut-down.

If you want to tempt death, check out the song here.

Apparently, B. Spears’s mom wants to take her home to Louisiana once she’s released, to get her away from her paparazzi pals and the douche twins, Sam Lufti and Adnan Ghalib.

Hopefully, all of this will happen, and Britney will get better, and I will stop feeling a personal need to put her in a headlock and march her to rehab myself.

Ew. January. So cold, so gray, so….ugh. You’ve been back in school for a few weeks now and there is no vacation in sight. Just days upon days of reading, writing and cramming. Not the most exciting outlook.You have probably already gotten to the point where you will do anything to avoid heading to the library: your room is spotless, you have emailed every member of your family to update them on your daily life and have changed your Facebook profile pic. Twice.

What else is there to do? How else can you put off studying now that lying out in the sun or taking a long walk are soooo out of the question?

And what about all those hours spent in lecture? How on earth can you pass the time until you’re back on your couch, cozily bundled and watching movies with the roomies?

Being a “real person” (meaning out of college and trying to survive the working world) I have learned a thing or two about passing time. I sit at a desk ten hours a day. Ten hours is a looong time to be looking at Excel spreadsheets and employee files, so I have had many a-opportunity to find some other things to pass the days.

So, being the generous person that I am, I will share with you some top-notch websites to pass time, avoid studying and just make your day.

Hotchickswithdouchebags.com: I just came across this site recently and it truly is one of the best things on the internet right now. The guy who runs the site finds pictures of, well, hot chicks with douchbags and posts them. New pics (and commentary) are being posted daily – along with a large archive – so this will keep you entertained forever.

Gofugyourself.com: Once you read this site you will want the Fug Girls to be your best friends. Instead of ripping apart celebs for speaking in British accents or heading to rehab, these ladies rip them apart for their fashion indiscretions. These girls are seriously funny. I have spent entire days flipping through their archives and it never gets old.

Thesuperficial.com: If you think Perez Hilton is funny it’s because you haven’t experienced true celeb-blogging hilarity. I am not sure who writes this site, but he is a genius. And he doesn’t ruin photos with white squiggly marks. Perez has nothing on this dude.

Addictinggames.com: Remember back in middle school when you had to memorize the U.S. map? Well, this game tests your knowledge. I know putting states on a map seems un-fun, but something about it is totally addicting. I can’t stop!

Craigslist.com: CL isn’t just for people looking for a couch. There are so many freaks on there looking for love, for wild sex and for that special someone that they didn’t have the courage to approach in person. They even have a “Best Of” section that is to die for. Best part: you have hundreds of cities to look through, so the fun never ends.

Got any other time wasters we should all know about?

The self-described Queen of all Media recently broke the story most of us already knew to be true when he reported that episodes of The Hills are about to shown in the UK with a pre-show disclaimer: “The following programme may contain scenes that have been created purely for entertainment purposes.”

The only news to me is that people didn’t know that The Hills wasn’t real in the first place. It’s not totally fake, but come on. How could you not know the scenes were set up?

I mean, it spun off from “Laguna Beach,” which asked its season two “stars”, Jessica and Jason, to recreate the break up that they’d had on a weeknight, since MTV only filmed the show from Thursday through Sunday.

We also had this fantastic account from Gavin the Model about the fakery and insipidness that is Lauren, Spencer, and Heidi (and the potential coolness of Brody Jenner).

Is the ‘news’ in this story that The Hills creators are being up front with the British audience while in the States we’ve had it revealed to us through the likes of Perez Hilton and other bloggers?

In our love of reality shows, we seem to place more emphasis on the world ‘reality’ than we should, though I can kind of understand the ‘outrage’ concerning this issue–if there is any. Why can’t MTV be as straight up with viewers in the US as they’re being with the viewers in Europe? Do they think we’re less mature? More naive?

Well, probably because it doesn’t matter so much. People around here are still going to watch, no matter if it’s totally real or not.

It’s the freaking Hills.

In other news, Spencer is evil and Heidi’s chin weighs 8 pounds.

Yo, what has happened to Eminem?

While it’s taking all of my strength to keep away from a joke about the guy eating too many of his chocolate namesake, I gotta say, boy has gotten chubby.

Eminem, aka Marshal Mathers, has been under the radar for a while…ever since he got divorced from his wife and then married her again and then got divorced a second time. Apparently, women aren’t the only ones who use food to get them through tough situations, because the rapper was recently released from the hospital after a bout of pneumonia brought on by heart problems—heart problems that may or may not have something to do with the fact that the guy is now reportedly around 200 pounds.

There aren’t many pictures of fat Eminem floating around the internet, but the ones I did find certainly corroborate with reports that his once hot physique is nowhere to be found.

My guess is that if Slim Shady were a woman, everyone from Perezhilton to TMZ to CNN would be freaking their shit about his weight gain (because that’s just our society these days), but since he’s a dude, no one really cares if he’s been hitting the Cheetos a little too hard.

What do you think? Is Eminem’s weight gain a moot point because he’s a guy, or is he just a boring celebrity people have already forgotten about?

In case you live under a rock, Britney Spears has officially gone crazier than any of us thought possible.

After freaking her sh*t last Thursday night when it came time to return her two sons to their less insane parent, Spears participated in a three-hour standoff before being rushed to a hospital on a stretcher and checking herself out less than 48 hours later (apparently too early for people admitted with psychological issues). While nobody’s saying exactly why Spears was taken to Cedars-Sinai Medical Center, it’s been reported that at the time of her hospitalization, she was “under the influence of an unknown substance”.

As if the circus wasn’t big enough, TV’s favorite media-whore “therapist” Dr. Phil got himself involved in Brit’s debacle, visiting her as she was checking out of the hospital and subsequently telling every news outlet that he was “very concerned” for her.

“My meeting with Britney and some family members this morning in her room at Cedars leaves me convinced more than ever that she is in dire need of both medical and psychological intervention.” The TV doc is quoted as saying. “She was released moments before my arrival and was packing when I entered the room. We visited for about an hour before I walked with her to her car. I am very concerned for her.”

Now, as much as I hope Mr. McGraw visited Britney because he was worried and felt it was his duty to do something no one in her family has bothered to do, I can’t help but wonder if he, like the rest of the world, is just using Spears as a way to boost himself up. Paparazzi egg her on, newscasters tisk their tongues, and bloggers like me make thousands of jokes at her expense, hoping she’ll do something even more insane tomorrow so we can be even funnier. Perezhilton has practically built an internet empire on play-by-play updates on craziness, and everyone surrounding her seems content to play down her psychosis and use her until she hits a wall.

The question then becomes, is Spears insane because of us, or in spite of us?

Here’s hoping someone has at least taken away her keys and Starbucks card. Drinking your weight in caffeine and calories twice a day is enough to make anyone go a little nuts.

As of Wednesday, Britney Spears’s custody battle just got a little more unbelievable. Her lawyers, the law firm Trope and Trope, asked to be “relieved” as her attorneys, explaining that communicating with the spiraling celebrity is “impossible.”

I mean, what is the girl doing?

How far gone do you have to be to ignore high-powered lawyers who’s only job is to help you? It’s like she’s totally forgotten about the two kids she squeezed out of her vajayjay only a few years ago, and instead believes her days should be spent driving around aimlessly and sleeping with nasty, nasty paparazzi (who are most likely getting ready to sell their story to the first magazine that jumps).

Even though there’s an election coming up, there’s global warming to think about, and things overseas aren’t looking that good, I think America needs to band together to get B. Spears off the streets and into rehab. This is something we can all connect to; all ages and races and economic standing, no matter who you are, you know this chick ain’t right in the head.

I mean, any day now she’s gonna storm out of her house wielding a garden hoe with her underwear on over her head and take some unsuspecting photographer hostage. Do we really want to be responsible for that?

Let’s do each other a favor and find a way to redirect this trainwreck back into the station for some much needed therapy and vegetables (I get the feeling she doesn’t eat many of those).

Seriously people, we’re all she’s got.