If there were any doubts, clearly, the last few days have shown that Sarah Palin is indeed qualified...to be a reality TV star!

Seriously, what's "Living Lohan" got that "Living Palin" wouldn't?

Check out the cast: There's the drunk snowmobile racer dad, the brother-in-law who tases toddlers and shoots moose when he shouldn't be shooting moose, the kids with dumbass names (including one named after Van Halen!), and Levi, the self-proclaimed "[blankin'] redneck" high school jock who's making a real "hockey mom" outta the 17-year-old daughter.

That's enough for Season One right there. And that's what we've learned in just two days, while most of the liberal media was storm chasing!

This is gonna be great!

Many a book makes its way from the hands of the doe-eyed, hype-seeking paperback publisher to the illustrious, half-abandoned-cubicle-lined halls of the City Paper offices. Periodically, I will peruse our collection of these volumes, searching for the rare submission that rises above all others to offend me on the basis of its title alone. When I find this book, I will pluck it from the shelf, lazily skim its offerings until I confirm its offensiveness, then condemn it. Forever!

In this installment of ... that, I didn't have to search too hard to find my next top pick. This one was displayed prominently on the shelf and decorated with an anonymous yellow Post-It note that read, "TOP PICK!" The title, If You Want Closure In Your Relationship, Start With Your Legs, had the necessary gravitas to make me pick up the book. The author's name, "Big Boom," made me open that book, and explore its world.

Read More "“Big Boom”: Now With Forty-Seven Years Of Whore Experience" »

A spot of news sure to please bike enthusiasts, lovers of art-rock, and managing editors alike: the New York Times reports that David Byrne, "cultural omnivore," has rolled out a new line of bike racks across NYC, with whimsical designs geared toward the peculiarities of each neighborhood. My personal favorite: "Mudflap Tammy," who racily graces the corner of 44th and 7th. Where does the bike go? I'm not quite sure. But I imagine I'd have a lot of fun finding out.

D.C., meanwhile, has some catching up to do. But who knows? Before too long, we might all be singing those infectious lyrics to "Hey Now":

I wanna bicycle
I wanna popsicle
I wanna space face
Buy me a cherry face now

Hey now!
Hey now!
Hey now now!
Hey now!
Hey now!
Hey now now!

Why, hello there, person who attended my high school. Thank you for requesting to reconnect with me via a social networking Website. It appears that you've recently become someone's wife.

At first I wasn't so sure that you had recently gotten married. But then I noticed that you had changed your last name to a completely different last name. "Hmm," I thought. "That's weird." A quick perusal of your photo gallery didn't help clear up the matter. Why do you appear to be leaning against an abandoned but polished vintage car at the edge of a wooded marsh, your left hand posed strangely in the air, as some dude stares intently into your face? And to think: In all that time that you were sitting three or more rows behind me in Freshman Biology, you never once mentioned your interest in doubles rustic portraiture.

But then I saw that series of photographs of you swathed in a huge, flowing, white satin dress, some dude staring intently into your face. At that point, I was sooooo on to you!

Your autobiographical section only helped heighten my suspicion that you had recently gotten married:

Website: http://www.[some dude]and[girl who sat three or more rows behind me in Freshman Biology]swedding.com

Interests: Enjoying my wonderful husband!, Trying to talk [some dude] into my design ideas for our home.

I must admit that I became a bit confused when I reached the "Favorites Book" section, where you include "Anything by bell hooks and Gloria Steinem." Hmm. Anything?

Thanks for clearing it all up:

Relationship Status: Married.

Don't Care,

Amanda Hess

Last month, I wrote a column on Eduardo Rodriguez, Artomatic's "Penis Guy," who claimed that the art exhibition had censored his genitalia-themed work (Show & Tell, "The Schlong Goodbye," May 16, 2008). After the accusation hit local art forum artdc.org, Artomatic supporters delivered Rodriguez an extended e-smackdown, calling him an "asshole," an "idiot," and a "clown." The thread then devolved, naturally, into jokes and posted clip-art about "clown cocks," roosters dressed as circus performers.

Now, the Artomatic crew has taken the clown cocks to the next level: Crafts!

Tattoo studio britishink has crafted some limited edition "Clown Cock" pins, featuring a distressed blue-haired, red-nosed rooster, along with the phrase "Censor This!" (The pins also include a prominent shout-out to britishinkdc.com). Finally, you can display your art-feud allegiences prominently on your lapel.

Next up: woven W.W.C.C.D.? bracelets?

Artomatic closes Sunday.

Photo of Rodriguez by Darrow Montgomery.

My cousin was pregnant with her second child, and she and her husband went to the doctor for some tests, one of which pinpointed the exact date of conception. The doctor said to my cousin and her husband, "The test says you got pregnant on XYZ date. Does that seem right to you?" My cousin and her husband said, "Yes, I think we had sex that day," and the doctor looked relieved. He told them that he always asks the "does that seem right to you" question anymore ever since he had an uncomfortable moment not that long ago.

A woman and her husband got the test, and the doctor said to them, "You conceived on ABC date," at which point the husband said, "That's impossible, I was in Iraq." So the wife quickly said that there were contractors at the house that day, and one of the contractors must have masturbated into a towel that the wife then used after showering. The towel, then, managed to impregnate the wife.

The doctor told this story to illustrate some uncomfortable positions he's found himself in, but my cousin and I wondered: is it possible to get pregnant from a towel?

I called my uncle, a retired ob-gyn doctor, to ask.

Read More "Is It Possible to Get Pregnant From a Towel?" »

The Washington Post has gone kid crazy lately, with huge stories on rich kids begging for a prom date (front page?), on the place oral sex has in kids' lives, and now a series on obese kids.

A single story about rich, fat kids begging for oral sex at the prom would have sufficed.

Though perhaps Laura Sessions Stepp has already written that piece.

The confessional of a cheating heart in the most recent New York magazine really got me going, as, I'm sure, the editors hoped it would. This Philip Weiss guy has dug about a millimeter into the subject and come up with scientific proof men just can't help sticking it in other women for a little variety! And enough with that female morality bull! Can't American ladies just be a bit more French! (I mean, really, I think we already are. It's just that we don't talk about it.) I hope Weiss isn't what galavanting young City Paper scribes grow up to become. (Sorry Franklin, just kidding.)

I missed the least sexy holiday of they year somehow. Yesterday was the National Day to Prevent Teen and Unplanned Pregnancy. Cristina Page at the Huffington Post did some data hunting on NARAL's website and came up with the conclusion that kids in pro-life states get laid more often than kids in pro-choice states. They start doin' it younger, and do it with more people too. Her assumption is that pro-life states are more likely to be places where schools and parents teach abstinence and cover their kids' eyes when Bugs Bunny dresses like a lady. Of course, the causal relationship between the laws in those states and the horny tykes behavior behind the bleachers isn't really drawn by the available data. The point is, pro-lifers aren't having much luck with this whole abstinence campaign.

That said, I started to feel a little nervous today listening to NPR's report on how women are waiting too long to have babies. If only I'd grown up in Wisconsin.

Durex.com (a friend linked me here; I do not surf Durex.com) has charted the sexual activity of countries around the globe. What Durex determines to be "sex" depends on what their definition of "is" is, but no matter! Whatever sex is, Greece does it most often, with 138 times a year on average, followed by Croatia (134), Serbia & Montenegro (128), and Bulgaria (127). Oh, Croatia, you old cad!

Go down a little further to find the United States, which gets sexy 118 times a year, on average. Japan takes up the rear (perhaps literally) with only 45 times a year. Plan your next sex vacation accordingly.

America: We're number 11! If we want to bring our average up, we could start by using one of those condoms: It is, as usual, the young whippersnappers that are bringing us down. According to Durex, 35 to 44-year-olds are having the most sex (an average 112 times a year), compared to 108 times for 25 to 34-year-olds and only 90 times for 16 to 20-year-olds.

Still, there is reason to rejoice, Americans! The U.S., along with our Canadian bretheren, lead the globe in filmed sex, with 22% of respondents participating. No word on how many of those tapes make their way to Japan.

Moe at Jezebel points out the oh-gosh politics and journalism cross in strange ways news that Andrea Mitchell won't let her hubby Alan Greenspan spend any time alone with his one-time snuggle bunny, Barbara Walters. Moe thinks our generation of women is more comfortable with sharing past partners. I think she's right, for the most part. Especially in incestuous fields like journalism and politics, it's sort of inevitable. And if you're not totally dependent on dudes for your sense of self-worth, you won't waste your time wondering if your girlfriend gave that one dude something you couldn't. Mitchell's situation is a bit different, since she is still in possession of said dude, and since Babs is so freaky. But, still, she should loosen the reigns a bit.

By now, you may have heard of the legal troubles of one James L. Walls Jr., the mayor of District Heights, Md., who was arrested for soliciting a male undercover cop for prostitution early Thursday morning.

Fun fact: Mere hours before Walls was arrested near Verizon Center, he had been hanging out with Ward 7 Councilmember Yvette Alexander at a community meeting in the Prince George's County burg of Fairmount Heights, where Walls serves as town administrator.

What was Alexander doing across the District line? She had planned to attended a community meeting in her ward, but a scheduling snafu meant that didn't happen. So she decided to check out the Fairmount Heights meeting and work on those interjurisdictional relations a bit. There, she met Walls.

LL learned of this when he ran into Alexander at the Wilson Building yesterday---before the Walls scandal broke. At that time, Alexander referred to Walls as "an amazing individual."

When Alexander learned of Walls' arrest later in the day, she called LL. "I can't believe this!" she exclaimed between guffaws. "We were just talking about the prostitution on Eastern Avenue."

LL inquired whether there were any outward signs that Walls might have been on the prowl. Says Alexander, "He had some fancy brown-and-white shoes on."

Want to share medical information with past sexual someones, but just can't find the words to say? Say it in an e-card! Internet Sexuality Information Services has developed inSPOT--- short for "Internet Notification Service for Partners or Tricks"---to help bring pesky STD chats into the realm of belated birthdays and "just because" dancing GIFs. InSPOT provides a variety of virtual cards (Slate's got screenshots of the e-offerings) complete with cute little phrases like "I got screwed while screwing, you might have too," "Sometimes there are strings attached," and "Got laid. Was happy. Got tested. Wasn't healthy."

As you might imagine, there are right ways and wrong ways to send an STD notification e-card. According to InSPOT, "If you decide to compose a personal message, put yourself in the other person's shoes. Think about how you were told—what you liked and what you didn't—and put the best of it into words." Furthermore, "You can send postcards anonymously or from your email address. Historically, when you tell a sex partner(s) yourself, it's more likely s.he will 'hear' the message and get tested."

I'm all for making STD notification easier, and if this e-card system helps people take the initiative to get tested, I think that's great. Still, please do not send me one of these e-cards. First of all, as the e-card subject line reads "e-card from a concerned friend re: your health -- via inSPOT," it's probably heading straight to my Spam folder, along with p3n1s enlargement notes and overseas investment opportunities. Second, I fear that the "anonymous" feature may encourage the grade school community to abuse the inSPOT system for its own amusement. Finally, while I accept the witless drivel of the e-card on throwaway holidays, I'd really prefer it not be used to impart important information concerning my reproductive system.

Take one inSPOT e-card for example (perfect for the journalist!). It reads: "Who? What? When? Where? It doesn't matter. I got an STD; you might have it too. Please get checked out." Actually, it does matter. And these oversized emoticons aren't helping.

You know the fifty-color fliers and postcards good neighbors leave on your windshield? The ones inviting you to those exclusive afterhours parties and special events? The ones that would make Luther Campbell nod in approval?

While I'm not sure who actually responds to this spam and goes to these things, I do know that they constitute an annoyance. How many of these cards have I tossed into the backseat of my car? Too many!

It's not a shock that people have complained. Southwest residents have been up in arms over them for a while. They've started calling them "Booty Cards." Kinda perfect.

And they got Councilmember Tommy Wells' attention. After months of effort, Wells---along with the D.C. attorney general's office---has been able to at least banish one company from distributing them. Wells, in a press release, calls this a "partial victory" for Southwest residents---and D.C. citizens in general.

Although he considered them pornographic, Wells knew he couldn't fight them on indecency issues. Instead, his office went after the company over the trash they produce. A smart move!

-"This is just one battle in a much larger effort," explains Wells' Chief of Staff Charles Allen.

Read More "Wells Gets Booty Ban" »

Last week, the Post published an investigation by resident gender expert/increasingly irrelevant old person Laura Sessions Stepp on the effects of women's empowerment on child-rearing. In order to engage Stepp a bit, let's ignore the fact that she's missed this issue by a decade or three and just skip on to her central question: With women now succeeding in the workforce as if they were men or something, "Who will take care of their children?"

Stepp keeps the queries coming: "Will women continue to run themselves ragged trying to be boss at work, full-time caregiver at home and on call for either obligation day and night?" Stepp asks. "Or will they look to their mates, who, should projections hold, may not be putting in as many hours at work as they?"

Stepp's answers aren't as important as her questions. Do we really need to continue to ask them? Can we not assume that women, men, childcare professionals, and villages will raise our youth while these crazy kids buy into this new trend of women succeeding in the workplace? Maybe Stepp, 56, is operating under some outdated assumptions here. To wit:

None of this is easy. We're talking about changing habits of thought that go back to the days when women tended children in caves while their mates were out catching game and fighting off intruders.

Now, women are leaving the cave in increasing numbers and some men get nervous thinking women may one day lead the pack. Could it be that as men tiptoe back into the cave, we women worry that they'll eventually take over?

Ah, leaving the cave: our eternal struggle. Allow me to suspend my rudimentary cave drawing for a moment to posit this question on the complex series of information tubes that we in the modern world refer to as the Internet: Why always with the babies?

Read More "Babies: Why Bother?" »