I will be on Maxim Radio on Sirius on Monday talking about getting organized. I'll see if I can segue into my personal pet cause: organizational tips for your vagina.

Check it out yourself. The segment's at noon.

The quote I didn't use from Michael Musto regarding "Showgirls" which basically sums up my philosophy of life is: "We are all Tony Moss." It's true. And in the words of Tony Moss, "What are these? Watermelons? This is a stage, babe. It's not a patch." Funny story. That's exactly what the admissions officer from Harvard said to me when I got waitlisted.

Do you ever just say completely the wrong thing? I was candy striping at this hospital for lepers and this one guy's right arm completely falls off, and I said, "You like to show off, don't you?" The instant I said it, I wished I could take it back.

I'm only doing Scientology until I can get in shape. I can quit any time I want.

I'm not so much a starfucker as I am a starspooner. I just want to cuddle with Moby.

Is there such a thing as a pity gang bang?

Or, did it just feel that way?

How do you tell someone that you just had the worst sex of your life? Better luck next time? Was it bad for you, too? Or "Get back in the confession booth, Father, this is highly inappropriate?"

I came out to my parents this weekend. I'm not gay, but I just felt like it was time for a big announcement.