Okay, I’m not going to embed the infamous video of Moe and Tracie from Jezebel drunkenly disclaiming on pulling out as viable birth control, unwanted pregnancy, and how it’s okay to be reckless in Williamsburg because the guys there are pussies, but I will link to it.
Because I think it’s relevant to this conversation we’re having about sluttiness and regret: how much of sexual adventure is about knowingly putting yourself in danger?
I’m thinking: some.
That sure-I-was-raped-so-what video sparked an uproar about third-wave ladies having reckless, unprotected, casual sex and getting date-raped and not thinking it was such a big deal.
Of course it delighted the stereotypical-second-wave finger-waggers, who finally had tape on this dubious trend they have been condemning. (*Cough* Linda Hirshman *cough*.) Continue reading
That Air Supply guy was awesome. I feel like the three people we found sexy except for except pre-deep-throat Belladonna, whose body was just ridiculously hot, were the Air Supply DJ, that friend of Paul Pope’s who accepted the award for him, and — we can admit it, we’re among friends — Levi Johnston.
And remember, we liked the DJ because he seemed really cool and into what he was doing and emo in the best possible way, and we liked the friend because he was actually cute and had a sense of humor (the Box version of sexiness is completely without humor), and Levi because he was strapping and young and dumb and so cocky it was absurdly intriguing. Continue reading