You walk into “The Application of Platonic and Hegelian Ethics to Business” (It’s exhausting just saying the name, isn’t it?), an extra credit symposium, take your seat between the girl who raises her hand every five seconds and the guy who comes to class only to fall asleep, pull out your books and suppress a yawn. You’re exhausted, having gotten no sleep after a late night Teen Mom marathon and barely made it to class on time.  You are in no mood to listen to lectures today. But you need the extra credit so here you are. And there your professor is, walking into class, putting down his bag, writing on the board, and then…calling in the strippers?

Yes, I said strippers. And I meant it.

This was not an exercise to make sure you were paying attention. This is reality, at least it was for the students of Jack Rapport, and assistant professor at La Salle University, who claims he was simply trying to  enrich his teaching by using real life application. And getting his students lap dances? Sure, just like the f**ksaws guy, right?

What is wrong with the world? Have all of these professors gone mad? Are these their attempts to gain media attention, be the cool teacher, or just get their students to like them? Because I hate to break it to ya, while I’m sure Rapport has given his students a great story, I don’t think this stint will win him any professor of the year awards. It’s fun in the moment, but that sort of thing won’t help students in the long run. This certainly wouldn’t get a guy on my professor of the year list.

But you know what would? A few things a whole lot easier to pull off than that, like:

1. Understanding that there’s more to college than academia.

2. Deciding not to make things difficult just because you can.

3.  Showing up for office hours.

4. Actually caring about whether or not I understand and/or show an interest in what you’re teaching.

5. Not assigning papers/test/presentations that are due the first day back from break.

6. Being willing to work with me instead of against me.

7. Not making it all about that one test or paper, or all about the participation and attendance, but about all of it.

8. Genuinely enjoying your job.

9. Not assigning busy work but rather work that actually helps.

10.  Letting us out of class early every once in a while.

What do you think, ladies? Do sex toys and strippers warrant a professor of the year award, or do you have less extreme (and obvious, and desperate) criteria?

Yeah, that’s about right.

We all know that 90% of the Olympic sports are pretty random, so what are the requirements for a sport to be admitted?  Requires strength? Athletic ability? Spandex? Stamina? If that’s the case, then how’s this for a proposal: pole dancing.

The future for pole dancing in the Olympics is probably not right around the corner, but believers are already starting to lobby for it to become one.  Ridiculous you say? More ridiculous than Biathlon? I mean, take away the pole and isn’t it almost the same thing as gymnastics?

Let’s look at the pros and cons of adding this “sport” to the Big Games.

CON: It’s pole dancing! The sport of the strippers!  Do we really want people who are paid to take their clothes off representing our country?

PRO: Clothed or nipple tasseled, anyone who has tried pole dancing knows that it is extremely difficult.  It requires an insane amount of practice, strength, and flexibility. And it’s 2010 – pole dancing has been taken out of the dark, smoky strip clubs and has turned into a widely accepted form of exercise and fun activity.

CON: How would the event even be scored? By the speed at which clothes are removed? “Candy (USA) scored a 10 with her record breaking time: She managed to tear her entire outfit off in 2.6 seconds!!” Would stiletto height be considered in reference to level of difficulty? What about acrylic length?

PRO: Just think of the commentating! “Representing Team USA, Luscious! Luscious has been honing her craft since she was 17. She always dreamed of big things, but never imagined she’d end up on this world stage. “

CON: It’s degrading to women, duh.

PRO: Male pole dancers. Yum.

CON: It’s not really the most wholesome “sport,” and the Olympics really are a family event.

PRO: If ever there were something to increase viewership (besides Michael Phelps, that is), Pole Dancing is definitely it.

So, what do you think? Should Pole Dancing be considered an Olympic sport?

The mind of a man is one of life’s greatest mysteries. And the weird obsessions of those men… well, I’ll just never understand:

Fantasy Sports: I’ve never seen more passion in a man’s eyes as when he is watching his fantasy football team take the lead. Perhaps it makes watching football more fun, but does it really get any better than drinking beers, eating junk food and reclining in a La-Z-Boy for an entire day? One time I joined a celebrity fantasy league in hopes to understand the obsession. But even I, the celeb stalker and supporter of all things muscle-y that I am, found it to be just mundane.

Strippers: I’ll admit I’ve been to a strip club once or twice in my life, and I just don’t get the appeal. Other than the totally awesome acrobatics, which only ever occur at the truly classy establishments, it’s just nudity. Rubbing up against you. In public. That you can’t touch. What’s the point?

And while we’re on the subject, what’s the fascination with fake boobs? Have you ever touched a pair? Did you like the cement feel underneath your fingertips? Gross.

The Ability to Grow Facial Hair: I never know the appropriate response to give when a guy tells me that it only took him one week to grow the mess of a beard he is shamelessly walking around town with. High-five? Just because you can grow one doesn’t mean you should go out looking like Chewbacca. I wish men would obsess over being well-groomed instead of growing a large patch of hair above their lip.

Anal Sex: Let’s cut the crap, here. Seriously. Because the minute you get pooped on, you’re not going to obsess over spelunking in that region ever again.  Why put yourself through that? The fantasy is better than the reality, so can we just leave it at that?

Lesbians: They aren’t interested in you. You will never be invited to join in a threesome. And unless you secretly have a vagina, you don’t stand a chance.

There are few topics in a relationship that cause more controversy than strip clubs. Many of us can’t understand why our man would need to watch some other girl strip it off and shake her ass in his face when he can have our naked ass in his face whenever he wants it (for free, I might add).  And isn’t watching some other girl get naked a form of cheating? He wouldn’t like it if I let some random dude come over and rub his crotch in (or on) my face for $5.

So why do guys do it? And what is the appeal of having some girl rub her boobs on him if he has to stick a few bucks in her panties to do so? I haven’t spent much time in strip clubs, so I turned to someone who does. Frequently. And loves it.

Here is the strip club lowdown from a dude who knows it (very) well.

It’s no secret that here at CC, we love Entourage. HBO and Showtime never cease to entertain with shows like Dexter, Weeds, and True Blood, but for some reason, Entourage has always held a special place in our hearts (and no, it’s not just because of this).

Besides the witty and quippy writing, Entourage is almost always hilarious, last night’s episode being no exception (everyone trips on shrooms in the desert and Ari desperately calls Lloyd to get him through his ordeal). The characters are strange yet likeable, and the Hollywood “scene” has never been drawn quite so wackily. So yeah, we love the show. Love it enough to stay up late on a Sunday night or TiVo it to watch immediately after work.

But here’s the thing: there’s pretty much no way to feel good about your body once the credits roll. A show created, produced, directed, and mostly written by men, Entourage is bursting at the seams with “hot” women. I’ve been watching for 5 seasons, and I honestly can’t remember a time when a female character was anything less than absolute runway material.

Everyone has big boobs. Everyone is thin and tall enough to dunk a b. ball like Michael Jordan. It’s like the casting director opened up a Victoria’s Secret catalogue, pointed to every single girl in there, and made sure she got a spot on the show. Like the producers walked around Vegas with Pied Piper flutes and somehow made the entire population of showgirls, strippers, and car models follow them to LA (perhaps they offered them cookies that would eradicate cellulite?).

This got me thinking; Entourage is great and all, but most likely, it’s written with dudes in mind. Most of the guys in Vinny’s group are less than perfect (E’s four feet tall, Turtle looks like one, Drama isn’t hot in the least, and Ari is on the old side), and yet, they get all the vajayjay they could ever hope for from beautiful chicks who disappear from the plot as soon as they’ve served their purpose.

I’m not trying to be a killjoy; it’s obvious that we love hot strippers and girls with big boobs, but WTF?! There’s more women in the US than there are men — shouldn’t we be granted the right to A) see girls who represent more than just the small model percentage, and B) at least a few guys who are super smokin’?!

We wouldn’t dream of getting pissed off at our favorite show (it’s like getting mad at that adorable frat boy for falling asleep on your shoulder after shotgunning 9 beers), but it seems pretty obvious to us that Entourage could certainly improve it’s female following if they took into consideration just how sensitive some of us are to how we’re represented on screen.

What do you think? Should Entourage change it’s ways, or stay just the same?

Yeah. It’s been one of those weeks.

So when we here at CC have one of those weeks, we sort of just talk about whatever we want — let it all hang out. Our filters have been corded by a week filled with strippers, bikini issues, porn, lists that piss people off, and of course, Guido dancing.

For the stupid ‘melt the ice to get to Tila’s heart’ challenge, the best friends from home get to help. But all of this effort and the best friends being flown out are not worth it for stripper room time. Bo and his friends win – absolutely nothing. There are no strippers in the strip club. The whole thing is lame. After like 2.5 hours, the friends are out.

So I think it’s the next day and it’s final date time. Bo polishes his shoes and I wonder who’s groomed his eyebrows throughout the filming of this show. The MTV interns made a sports bar set out of the “club” for the date. Bo, aren’t you annoyed that you polished your shoes for yet another in-house date? Couldn’t they spring for cars to take this to a real sports bar?

Bo’s been wearing his hospital bracelet since his return, which I totally didn’t catch. He’s going to give it to Tila when he gets his key. Awwww. Very endearing, but she doesn’t care, Bo. I’m sorry.

Kristy’s final date follows and Tila’s puts on a terrible jailbird dress to eat dinner by the fireplace. Kristy tells Tila that while she’s sure about her feelings, she’s unsure about her lack of experience with women. Not sexually – just in the relationship sense. Tila’s got too many emotions going on in her mind to hear that Kristy’s saying, “So maybe don’t pick me.”

This whole season I was under the impression that the elimination would take place in like Costa Rica or whatever. Especially since that’s what the other ‘reality’ dating shows do.

On the last and final day, Kristy and Bo are off for spa time before the elimination. I’m curious to see what they do to Bo’s hair. I’d like to see a bo-hawk but he just gets a regular hair cut. Tres disappointing.

The backyard is decorated with fire pits and blocks of ice and I want to pretend that the theme is poetic but Robert Frost and I are sure that it’s not.

Kristy and her second thoughts are sweating in the limo on the way back to the mansion. Britanny would have eaten off her hand to be in your spot. You couldn’t question yourself before you made it to the final two?

Ah, Tila, you and the emotions in your mind. How do you manage to put on all of that purple eye shadow and deal with all of your emotions at the same time?

Bo enters the yard first and I feel badly because he totally didn’t win. I guess Tila does one on one time for the final elimination? I’ve never seen this before. Here come the tears – like that makes it better that you’re going to hurt him.

He has a plate in his jaw because of your mess of a show. I’m sure that Bo-bear is going to find plenty of tail in Ohio or where ever he ends up. I’m sorry, Bo.

Sucks that Bo’s gone and Kristy’s gonna come in and be like, “Um, so I don’t know if I can handle this even though I had like weeks and weeks of time to prepare myself for this and I could have pulled out at any time.”

Kristy looks like she’s going to slip on the Plexiglas walk to Tila. Tila in her elf-like excitement presents Kristy with her key and Kristy cries. “If I take this key, I’m not going to be true. I’m really not ready for this.”

WHAT? Dude, it’s a KEY, you don’t have to get married. Just suck it up and try. It’s not like Tila really wants to date you anyway.

Tila walks off “humiliated” and she should totally call Bo.

Best part of the episode – we get confirmation that Kristy’s wearing underwear with that upskirt shot.

There are three minutes left – she could call Bo…

But she wouldn’t. Not because of pride, but because Tila purposely chose someone who told her that they probably weren’t ready for a relationship.

So that’s it. I can’t believe that they do yet another reunion with just the Kristy and Bo aftermath. Damn them for making it look interesting enough that I’ll be watching next week.

What do you think? Was this lame or totally dramatical?

I am not easily intimidated by guys. While I wouldn’t say that I have them completely figured out, I am confident with myself and with them to the point that I can talk to nearly any type of guy in any situation. Except for one.

Male strippers.

I had no idea that I was actually afraid of them until the night of the sloppy second – which was at Lucky Cheng’s. My friends and I had planned a night of bad food (seriously, I heard that the food there sucks) and a fabulous “dragdoll” wait staff. But instead of fabulousity, we learned that 1) they do not serve dinner on Fridays and 2) we would instead be watching a male review.

One of my friends and I wanted to leave but we were out voted and I panicked as we were led behind the curtain into a smallish room filled with sweat, humidity and about 75 women, half of whom were screaming at the mostly naked guys as though they were having the most fun ever.

Those guys not only smell your fear – they seem to be drawn to it. They loved our collective panic (at least mine and my friend’s) so much that they put our group on stage for the remainder of the show. This was all before I had adequate time to even get a little buzzed to help me deal with the situation.

Now, I’m not afraid of penis. But I am afraid of feeling like I have no control and since I know and hate the feeling of being objectified, I was uncomfortable being in the position to do the objectifying. And as one stripper (who was admittedly pretty hot), gave me some weird lap dance, I felt the need to humanize him. The only way for me to do that was to talk to him.

I sat on a chair with my hands glued to my sides and averted my eyes from his body. “So, uh, do you like your job?”

He moved his crotch, which was covered by an American flag thong, too close to my face and he said, “Well, I love it right now.”

My mouth was closed really tightly and I forgot to breathe. I finally answered, “Cool. So could you, like, stop doing your job on me?”

He laughed and got off of me. My friend gave me a dollar and I jokingly put it in my bra strap. (Side bar: I showed up with a $20. No singles. You never, never, never want to ask anyone there for change there. Ever.) He took the bill with his mouth. Then somehow the mouth was on my breast. On a stage, in front of my friends and quite a few strangers. I pushed him off of me. At least he was hot. (Another side bar: don’t wear your cleavage shirts to a strip club, especially if you are as naïve as I am and will try to pull a joke like that).

At the end of the night, one guy dressed like a Native American (i.e. boots with fringe and a matching thong with fringe) and another guy dressed like a cop started talking to me (as in what’s your name, where do you go to school – like real questions) and asking me what my friends and I were doing later on.

(God, this is funnier in retrospect. At the time I wondered if I was actually living it and not dreaming that 2/5 of the Village People Redux were talking to me).

I couldn’t talk to them because they were mostly naked and I couldn’t understand how they could be almost like confidence vampires.

So while I wanted to un-objectify them, I couldn’t because they were wearing thongs and talking to me as though they were fully clothed and everything were normal.

After that night, I let myself be dragged to another night of sweaty boys in thongs. Again, they smelled my fear but this time, instead of touching me, one of them made me put my hands on his ass.

There was stubble.

So that did two things for me – it made me not quite as scared to go back to one of those places again if I had to and it made the experience like 4% less intimidating.

I guess you can’t get more human than stubble on the ass.

Pizza and porn go together like peas and carrots. I mean, who doesn’t like to scarf down slices while enjoying some fine pornography? I know I do.

So it only makes sense that pizza establishments are recently catching on.

Porno Pizza, located in Winnipeg, includes a surprise – pornographic pictures – underneath their pies for customers who must show their 18-and-up ID’s to the delivery guy.

Founder Corey Wildeman said, “We cater to certain crowds” – yea, “certain crowds” meaning, hungry, horny Canadians.

Those Canadians sure are frisky, but us Americans can top that. Cordatos in Manhattan is a place that, for 10+ bucks will buy you a pizza and a lap dance!! From dancers who have been busted for prostitution!! That’s some bang for your buck.

Sure, pizza and porn reveals the male shovenist at its best, but it’s a gimmic and it works. It’s every man’s dream, really, so why not exploit that and make everyone happy? The only negative is that once this combination catches on and there’s a pizza-porn empire, guys everywhere will have a real excuse to take us ladies out less and less, and crave delivery more and more.

And we think Americans have a weight problem now…..