There’s a new President-Elect! Awesome. But if you’re anything like me (bless your heart), you’re a little tired of the election babble. So let’s talk about what’s really important:

My boyfriend won’t fuck my armpit.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: This kid says he LOVES me, and he won’t perform this one little experiment of inserting his penis into a heretofore unexplored area of my body?! I’m as stunned as you are. But before we do anything rash, here’s a little background.

Over the past year, we have witnessed the rise and fall of Hillary Clinton followed by the rise, and continued rise of Sarah Palin. This bizarre occurrence has caused me to wonder, what is so fundamentally frightening about an intelligent woman?

Having been raised in one of the most shallow, beauty-conscious places in the country (yes, I’m from the O.C.), I empathize with women and the choice they often feel compelled to make between beauty and brains. How is it possible to embody both?

For many women in this country, Sarah Palin, the beauty queen turned hockey-mom-of-five turned politician is an angel sent from heaven to show us the light, to reveal the long-lost secret to female success. She’s everything women want to be; she’s the crème de la crème of feminism.

Nothing makes me feel more like a failed sexual predator than the interview process. I first discover this cute little business on Careernet, the Match.com of the desperate and jobless. Her description catches my eye with words like, “exciting,” “experienced,” and “willing to take any major” (you saucy minx, I know what that means). After exchanging a couple emails explicitly describing how my past experience has prepared me to fulfill her every need and each secret desire, she coyly holds off for a few days.

Do I call her? Did she forget about me? Am I not good enough? Once I begin to convince myself I never needed her in the first place, the cheeky dame offers to meet me somewhere — somewhere private.

Tall, curvy, an icy gaze that gets you hotter than a midsummer sunburn. Leather corset, thigh-high boots with sky-high heels and a bullwhip to match. Judging by the way she makes you lick her shoes, and whatever weird preconceptions you have, you might think this masterful mistress is a feminist.

Feminism pops up time and time again in The Sun, and with good reason. It’s a hot issue, a loaded word with tons of implications. You might think, for example, that every feminist is a dominatrix waiting to stomp on some poor man’s genitals with the business end of a stiletto. You might even — dare I say it? — hope this is the truth. And you wouldn’t be the only one.

Rumor has it that Katie Holmes was the first celebrity woman of late to wear jeans that were — gasp! — not tight in the butt. At first, uncertainty swept the fashionistas: Is this sexy or does she look homeless? What does Tom have to say about it — might they actually be his jeans? Then stars picked up the trend left and right, as did clothing companies across the nation. The uncharacteristically loose-fitting jeans were named “Boyfriend Jeans,” close kin to the already popular “Boyfriend Sweaters.”

Last week, presidential candidate John McCain choked on a big fat Viagra pill. From the comfort of my own home, I watched in horror as the dear old geezer coughed and stuttered, his cheeks flushed and his doe eyes brimming with confusion and panic.

They say the greatest sign of insanity is when you repeat an action over and over, expecting different outcomes. Once again, (this time during the second presidential debate), McCain was asked to account for his tacit approval of health insurance companies who cover Viagra for men but not birth control for women.

He’s made the mistake before. But maybe he figured that blabbering like an idiot … again … when asked the question would make the big bad journalists go away for good.

MAVERICK. MAVERICK.

I started thinking a few weeks ago about the idea of sin. Fitting, considering that on the holiday of Yom Kippur, Jews apologize for sins committed by our individual selves and on behalf of the larger Jewish community.

Today is Love Your Body Day, another holiday. LYBD is sponsored by National Organization of Women and celebrated across the nation. On its website, NOW writes:

“Women and girls spend billions of dollars every year on cosmetics, fashion, magazines and diet aids. These industries can’t use negative images to sell their products without our assistance.

Together, we can fight back.”

Even as a little kid, I always knew I was different from everyone else. While most children played with blocks and video games, I would spend hours chasing my dog in the backyard on all fours. My first word was “woof,” and I wasn’t house broken until I was five years old. To this day, old issues of The Sun line the floor of my room. Most disconcerting to my parents, however, was that I had the unhygienic habit of cleaning myself with my tongue and then greeting their business associates with licks on their faces.