So…Kevin Jonas is engaged at the age of 21.  Who saw this coming?  I’m gonna go ahead and wave my hand wildly around in the air.  What I can’t figure out is how he did it.  I mean, how do you even walk in pants that tight, much less get down on one knee to propose?  And were his brothers there?  Is a Jonas brother marriage like a Jonas Brothers song – involving all three members?

I can just imagine the scene now…Kevin Jonas walks up to the front door of his girlfriend’s house, tells his body guards to get back in the limo and drive around the corner, and knocks on the door.  She answers, he gets down on one knee, pulls out a ring, and then the music starts…because his brothers are obviously strategically placed in his girlfriend’s house to add back-up vocals.

I can’t get your smile out of my mind
(I can’t get you out of my mind)
I think about your eyes all the time
You’re beautiful but you don’t even try
(You don’t even, don’t even try)
Modesty is just so hard to find

Now I’m speechless
Over the edge, I’m just breathless
I never thought that I’d catch this love bug again
Hopeless, head over heels in the moment
I never thought that I’d get hit by this love bug again Read More »

In news that probably surprises none of us, a new study revealed that Virginity Pledges are to premarital sex as the pull-out method is to birth control. Meaning: they are 100% ineffective.

In fact, not only do the kids who make those pledges go on to have premarital sex, but they also do it without any form of birth control. (See: Bristol Palin.) Because these kids are brought up in homes that teach abstinence only, when the kids do decide to give in to their urges they do so without any clue about birth control or safe sex.

This is awesome news for the Federal Budget, as we can now cut out the hundreds of billions of dollars spent every year on abstinence programs that aren’t workin’ anyway and rededicate that money where it is needed.

This is also great news to women everywhere (like me) who want to get their claws into The Jonas Brothers.

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 »