To be fair to Sully it's hardly like he was telling Lauer about his sex swing and collection of dildos. In the interview with the pilot and his wife Laurie for NBC's People of the Year Special Lauer asked if his new-found celebrity had helped or hurt their relationship. Laurie, out of nowhere, replied:

He doesn't know I'm gonna say this, but I had joked the other day that ... the hero sex really helps a 20-year-old marriage

To which Sully, that sly old dog, added:

Rock star sex

Let's hope he was exaggerating somewhat. Some rock star sex is more dangerous than his river exploits.

Lambert performed new single For Your Entertainment at last night's American Music Awards. He begins with a Starlight Express-ish croon-a-thon, then grabs a woman by the foot and kicks her in the crotch at 0:43, which is officially the closest Adam Lambert has ever gotten to a vagina. Then he whips a leather daddy who walks on a leash on all fours, and pulls another one into a face fuck at 1:00, which is pretty gay, but I once heard that in some countries the tops aren't even considered gay, really, just opportunists. Lambert's act reminds me of Justin Timberlake ripping off Janet Jackson's bra, a crude and generally thoughtless depiction of male sexual energy.

It's hard to tell whether the audience screams during the face fuck portion are with giddy joy or terror—and isn't that dichotomy just so Glambert?

On a different note: The song (minus the vocal aerobics) and staging are very Britney Spears. I have a sneaking suspicion that the goal for that one tragic VMA performance was something a little like this.

This drug, Flibanserin, was supposed to be an antidepressant. It sucked at that but it's great at making women horny, and now clinical trials have proved it! But oh, no, stop, stop having your fun, everyone stop everything:

Some doctors are sceptical about the need for pills to boost female sex drive.
For some, reduced sexual interest or response may be "normal", says Professor Irwin Nazareth or University College London.
Others say relying on a pill could stop couples talking through underlying issues.

That is only the whole point. God.
[Pic of couple that could theoretically benefit from this drug via]

She took her favorite pair of Edward Cullen panties out of the dryer and slid them onto her body, reveling in the soft caress of Robert Pattinson's cold zombie lips. [via Twitarded]

She then climbed into her $130 New Moon canopy bed. The drab satin-effect sheets reminded her of the lifeless sheen in her undead boyfriend's eyes. She felt alone, though—so alone. She decided she needed some company... [via Etsy]

She gathered her favorite noose-looped Twilight clothespin voodoo dolls and ornamented her surroundings with them. [via Etsy]

"Come to me, Edward," she whispered, grasping beneath the sheets in search of the hand-sewn Edward Cullen zombie sock puppet she sleeps with every night. [via Etsy]

She leaned a porcelain cheek against her Robert Pattinson pillow. [via Etsy]

It was time. She stretched her pale, slender hand to the Jacob Black light switch and dimmed it to—what else?—twilight. [via Etsy]

She removed her vampire sparkle dildo from the top drawer in her bedside table. She bit her lip and recalled fondly the words her Dildward Cullen had used to seduce her:

Yes the The Vamp retains hot and cold temperature. Toss it in the fridge for that authentic experience.

The Vamp is a realistic form dildo based appropriately on our Sire's design but with a deathly pale flesh tone reminiscent of the moon's soft glow

[via Tantus]

Her cheeks flushed, her lips trembled, her eyelids fluttered. Dildward Cullen did all the things she asked of him, in cursive on the front of her sweatshirt. [via CafePress]

He sated her completely. With a sigh of contentment, she retired to use her Twilight-themed restroom, to use the Cullen-branded toilet. [via Etsy]

She reapplied her vegan Twilight lip gloss and smacked her lips in the mirror. [via Etsy]

Returning to the bedroom, she kicked her hand-painted Bella and Edward high-top sneakers out of the way. [via Regretsy]

Clutching the felted "Bella's womb" she had crafted from wool to depict the mutant fetus within, she contemplated whether child support applied to half-vampire bastards. [via Cinematical]

She would not bear a bastard babe. She reached into the desk and pulled out the stack of Save the Date cards she had been saving for her Twilight-themed wedding. [via Etsy]

For this would be the child to bring together the forces of Vampire and Human. In this child, the future would be born. This child would be as sexy as her vampire lover. Her son, the Next Edward Cullen. [via CafePress]

According to Reuters the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention reported resurgent levels of preventable diseases syphilis, gonorrhea and chlamydia. "We have among the highest rates of STDs of any developed country in the world," John Douglas, director of the division of sexually transmitted diseases, told the news agency. "We are not honestly and openly dealing with this issue and it's the larger issue of sexual health," he added.

This slightly disproves the Republican idea that the good lord will prevent teenagers, filled to the brim with hormones, from having sex because it's sinful etc. The Obama administration say they will reverse the policy, after they've got around to reversing the 337 other really bad things that Bush did.

Our tipster says she met Janka—who introduced himself as "Connor slash Paul but all my friends call me Connor"—a few months ago. Although they were barely acquainted, he proceeded to buy her a plane ticket to Rome, and invited her to come and stay with him at a friend's villa there, where they would frolic in a paradise of earthly delights. Or, as he put it in an email to her,

I bought your ticket. You should get an email shortly.
Make sure to get a waxing; I'm going to make all your holes very sore.

The young lady had second thoughts about the wisdom of joining this man she barely knew for a week in a secluded villa far away from any human help, so she declined his offer. She says, "to his defense he was upfront about wanting to have sex with me so at least he's honest in that sense, he is just NOT tactful about his approach." For example, he wanted to meet her at the airport and drive straight to the villa, to fuck. When she was wavering, he sent her the sexxxy photos you see here to help persuade her to come. After she decided not to take the trip, she says, he told her, "it's a shame you decided to get clever and fuck it all up for yourself."

But the story has a happy ending! Despite turning down Janka's hospitality, our tipster says "he still periodically contacts me with texts like 'want some coffee and want it up the ass?'" True love overcomes all.

One might say the hotel's guests are really getting into the spirit of the place! The Standard did everything it could to encourage its reputation as a $400 a night orgy den. Let's look back at this nice NY Post story from September 2:

Even hotel staffers and managers get in on the act, workers said, stripping down and posing provocatively in front of the massive floor-to-ceiling windows to draw attention to the hotel, which straddles the city's new High Line Park.

"We don't discourage it. In actual fact, we encourage it," a friendly bellhop told a pair of reporters as they checked in yesterday at The Standard, where randy guests cavort with abandon to the dismay — or delight — of parkgoers below.

Fucking in front of the assembled crowds below was actually the basis of the hotel's marketing policy, in a very thinly veiled way. Well, now we can officially dub that a "miscalculation;" last weekend, a hotel guest decided to help himself to the cleaning lady. She came in his room; he started chatting her up, asked if she had a boyfriend, asked if she thought he was handsome, then went ahead and jumped on her. (He was unsuccessful).

Could have happened anywhere, of course. But it's probably a much smaller mental leap for a horny hotel guest to decide that the cleaning lady must be interested in a quick fuck if he's staying in a place that's already been all over the tabloids for running ads saying "We'll put up with your banging if you'll put up with ours." Orgies are included with the room rate, right?

Hard to believe that not one marketing person, at any point, said, "These ads are edgy and all, but it sure would suck for us if any sex crimes happened in this place. Ya know?" Anyhow, expect the Standard Hotel to come up with some new taglines soon. It is very convenient to transportation!
[Pic: Ed Yourdon]

Greg Van Voorhis is totally the Cool English Teacher: Young dude, beard, long hair, calls himself "GvDubs" on Twitter. He gave his students the Chuck Palahniuk short story "Guts" to read and next thing you know all the uncool school people are complaining like some episode of Leave it to Beaver, In the Beaver's Butt. Now the Cool English Teacher's been suspended and the tabloids got ahold of the story and a 16 year-old high school girl is telling the New York Post "He didn't mean it to be anything other than something we could learn from," and everybody is laughing about that quote, because the story is all like,

At home, he whittles the carrot into a blunt tool. He slathers it with grease and grinds his ass down on it. Then, nothing. No orgasm. Nothing happens except it hurts.

Go back to Ohio if you don't want your kids learning masturbation things! The only danger here is the possibility the kids will turn into dreary Palahniuk groupies.
[Pic via]

As if the fake marketing and technology trends challenging the manhood of young, attractive males wasn't worrying enough, now we have to contemplate the existence of a parallel fake trend afflicting our parents and grandparents which we really would prefer not to contemplate, at all, but there it is, right in the AARP magazine, of course:

"I'll say, 'You have an amazing body. You have amazing breasts,'" he reports. The next thing you know, you'll get a picture of a breast," he says with a hearty laugh.

Yea but an old dude said that, which makes it totally...

"If you're sitting in a restaurant waiting for your food, you can just talk dirty to someone, and no one knows what you're doing," Jill says, in a slow Southern drawl. "I would rather talk on the phone. But I'm also comfortable with hiding behind texting if I want to say something dirty."

Gurl u no ur body just don't quit. Gurl u no u shd let me show u my male body lotion. Gurl UR so fine.

TMZ just kind of drops this offhandedly in a post about Prejean being shown the tape by a rival lawyer:

The video the lawyer showed Carrie is extremely graphic and has never been released publicly. We know that, because TMZ obtained the video months ago but decided not to post it because it was so racy.

We like to picture a big, menacing team of hatchet-wielding attorneys standing over Harvey Levin's head as we read this. Anyhow, kudos to TMZ on its newfound virtue. If they don't want the tape, I reckon we'd take it.
[Pic: Getty]

Andrea Peyser scoffs at ESPN's Steve Phillips claiming a sex addiction just because he sexed up his young assistant. Andrea Peyser thinks sex addict treatment "Sounds like a great way to meet horny chicks." And how!

Addictions are routinely compared to deadly diseases, such as cancer, by people who'd rather drink than put down the glass, the crack pipe, or — hopefully — the condom. This is an outrage that sickens those who are truly diseased.

In the rest of her column she advises Jennifer Anniston, "Next time, try showering with a friend."; she calls the Yankess "oversexed"; she jealously mocks Maureen Dowd for wanting to bone the president; and she curses New Yorkers for being so fat, and unsexy.

There is no shame in seeking help, Andrea.

The last time early-1960s advertising executive and New York Times op-ed columnist Maureen Dowd was so obviously baffled by a slight subversion of gender norms, noted masculine asshole Tom DeLay was gyrating in a feminine manner on the television.

This time, it's Barry Obama, the elegant and lady-like Democrat, who is, according to recent reports, excluding ladies from his inner circle, because they do not like to golf or talk about the football or play the basketball.

In her column on this important matter, Dowd simply ignores her own lengthy history of interpreting Obama according to her rigid "Democrats are fags and Republicans are real men" worldview. Instead, he is like presidents of old, who crack "racy" jokes with male aides. She quotes "a girlfriend" (Alessandra?) who wishes the uppity ladies would just let the president be a man with men in peace.

You would think someone who repeatedly called Obama "oBambi," and also butterfly, in columns dedicated to the argument that Hillary Clinton was the real man in the party, even if she pretended to have a vagina and ladylike tendencies (like those tears), would write a column expressing some sort of mild surprise that Obama is perhaps more traditionally masculine than she thought.

You would think she would remember the fact that last year she wrote that Obama is "the more emotionally delicate candidate, and the one who has the more feminine consensus management style." And then, perhaps, she might revisit those words, and say "huh, perhaps I was wrong, perhaps Obama is not a girly man."

Instead, she (this is once again nothing unusual for Maureen) talks about how it is those cruel Republicans who wish to paint every male Democrat as a "Mom-jeans-wearing girly-boy." It's a good thing no supposedly liberal columnists for supposedly liberal newspapers play along with that creaky old act!

And then she throws in a "Rahm Emanuel is a fag" laugh line for the hell of it.

Obama likes to play sports, watch sports and talk sports. (Even his favorite TV shows, "Mad Men" and "Entourage," are set in male-dominated worlds.) So the Obama aides who can do that, like Robert Gibbs, have a deeper personal connection with the president than someone like Rahm Emanuel, the former ballet dancer who prefers yoga to golf.

Yes, Maureen, we know that it is funny that a man would do yoga (is that funny, actually? is it 30 years ago?), but the problem with that little joke is that Rahm is part of the circle of men that Obama is reportedly more at ease with. The original stupid story was not "Obama excludes women and girly Rahm Emanuel from his inner circle."

• SEX: In Los Angeles, high schools fed up with kids doing their sexy, sexy dance moves out on the dance floor are drawing up "binding agreements that parents and students must sign before a teenager can step onto the dance floor" regulating sexxxy dance moves such as, quote, "sexual bending." What ever happened to doing the mashed potato?
• DRUGS: Now that Obama's federal government has shamefully abdicated its duty to arrest weedheads, states are "Taking up the torch," heh, to ensure that you medical marijuana hippies don't get away with your toking and your smoking, of marijuana. Most states are run by old jerks.
• ROCK N ROLL: Police are working with the club owners to keep the noise down, and it's really working out well.

Are these the "Free Love Cookies" in question? Or is that some sort of romantic literary reference that sailed over our heads? In any case: As you would expect, Min and Salman's modern friendship blossomed on the Facebook.

Llongots? We don't even know! And what else of Min herself—one doesn't get into Harvard just by loving models and going out with models and being way attractive, you know. It turns out she wrote quite a readable blog! It was called "Mongol Whored." Its most recent entry is from January of 2008, and it's now set to private, but the Google caches everything, you know.

"How do we know this is really Min's blog?" we asked ourselves. Well: "Here's how I roll: me: half Chinese, half Hungarian." And also, for example:

To: Hot Babe
From: Min
Subject: last night
Text: lovely to meet you last night—i had such a wonderful time. though am being punished for our revelry with a merciless hangover. totally worth it, though :) oh my god, smileys are so not my style (incredibly cheesy, no?), but i can't help smiling at some of the shit we pulled last night. we're quite a pair, don't you think?
love to see you again,
xoxo,
m

Steamy! We are fanning ourself—as, we expect, is Salman—over things like, for example:

In the graph of my (ineffectual) picking up men with lascivious intent, it's plotted with desire as the constant, and availability as the variable. There's no fucking mention of time, which I suppose is tied to ideas of decorum and the other things I missed when being raised at wolf-tit. I've had mixed success with my all-hours tactics...

I don't begrudge odd-hour requests of me, either. 19, taking the Greyhound back from Nova Scotia through New Hampshire I was stretched long in my seat, feet dangling in front of me. I woke, shoes and socks off, to the warm lapping on my toes. There was a guilty smile on the man sitting ahead of me, and I sized him up sleepily, not nasty. I thought briefly of the ripeness of my feet, nasty. And I mumbled, "do them evenly, yo."

We too would like 2 B Facebook friends 2 get 2 no U, gurl. Let's have one more.

I was writing, if you remember, about songs that make me wish I was in college again. The song of my senior year, of course, was Nelly's "Hot in Herre." The next year, the first year of my nostalgia, was "Hey Ya," and this year it's "Promiscuous" and "Buttons." I speak of this with my old college roommates, and we wistfully speak of the days where we mixed Red Bull, vodka, and champagne, and called it a cocktail, of dragging ourselves into an 11am sections and thinking it was early, of when scabies and self-loathing were the most serious STDs floating around campus. My musical tastes usually run to the more, well, good, but not in the case of these particular songs, these songs of if not love, then youthful experimentation and inexperience. And the rare moment when I'm walking past a homeless dude selling some acrylic gloves and pleather cellphone holders and I hear "Promiscuous," I think, damn, wish I were in college. But that I'm moved to undulate, grinding with an imagined partner on W 23rd street, reminds me, hey, maybe it's a good thing you're not in college anymore, maybe it's some sort of silver lining blessing kinda thing, maybe college Min couldn't have handled this kinda shit. Now I hear "Promiscuous," and think, damn, shame that I'm missing making out with 20 year olds to this song, but I probably saved myself an abortion or ten.

We totally like that song, too—and its message. Salman Rushdie, you are one charismatic fella.

Said Judge John Grady:

"Sheriff [Thomas] Dart may continue to use Craigslist's Web site to identify and pursue individuals who post allegedly unlawful content. But he cannot sue Craigslist for their conduct."

Since the sheriff filed his suit in March, Craigslist has renamed the section "adult services" and imposed rules requiring a working phone number and valid credit card from, err, adult service providers. This doesn't seem to have impacted business much. But that's actually a good thing for the sheriff: since hookers will continue to flock to Craigslist, which cooperates with police, Dart can continue to use the site as a choke point for large-scale prostitution busts, as he has in the past. He just can't demonize the site for his own political posturing.