Brody Jenner stared at me from the other side of my TV, spray-tanned and wide-eyed. "What's a bromance?" he asked, incredulously. As if I should innately grasp the homosocial premise for his new series. Uh, you tell me - dude.
There are categories of people you just shouldn't sleep with, ever.
We want our sex like we want everything else: right now. Society, unfortunately, has burdened us with niggling demands, known to some as public decency laws, that prevent us from dealing with our tingles and jingles in a time-efficient manner. But to avoid getting slapped with indecent exposure charges, you don't need to go home to have sex. Just don't get caught. Embrace the art of the covert quickie.
America has voted. These long months of political tumult and impassioned debate have finally culminated into a moment of truth, reaching a climax of presidential proportions.
I'm convinced Halloween was created for the sole purpose of getting boned. No other holiday compares. When mischief and moonlight abound, someone is going to get laid. Throw in a chintzy costume, garish makeup and orange beer, and you're done for.
Anal sex. There, I said it. If the notion makes you clench up, I suggest you stop reading. Like, now.
Let me introduce myself. I'm Stephanie, and I'm a fag hag. But let me make a few things clear before your mind conjures up the image of that outspoken MAC makeup artist who so perfectly embodies the stereotype of the textbook fruit fly. I'm not a pudgy hanger-on, and my self-esteem is nowhere near lacking. I don't cling to gay men because otherwise, I'd never get within three feet of a penis. I'm definitely not the kind of girl who thinks that she alone can turn any Britney-squealing, homosexual man into a burly football fanatic. I don't brandish my gay friends like accessories, nor do I harbor any "Sex and the City" fantasies of being a cosmopolitan surrounded by sophisticated sodomites. Somehow, I just always found myself surrounded by gay guys and never thought much of it until everybody started asking me why.
Why is it that guys no longer act like gentlemen, and girls no longer act like ladies?
It's mid-August, and the bells of Century Tower - maybe a few e-bill notifications, also - are beckoning you to UF, a sultry and sticky swamp where you become an under-financed, oversexed version of your at-home self.
Solutions by The State News
