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...wants to be more than just friends. His best friend Lance (Clark Duke), who looks like a paisley-clad Clay Aiken, is an implausible Don Juan figure. In a world where everyone is getting action except Ian—from his 14-year-old younger brother to his dad??Ian feels pressure to lose his virginity and rid himself of the perceived stigma. With Lance egging him on, Ian decides to drive from Chicago to Knoxville in a desperate attempt meet up with an internet acquaintance named “Miss Tasty.” Of course, almost...

Author: By Rebecca A. Schuetz, CRIMSON STAFF WRITER | Title: "Sex Drive" | 10/17/2008 | See Source »

...have refused up to this day to read it,” the younger Diamond says. “I’m a fan, which is a good thing I guess because it’s weird if you don’t like your dad??s work...

Author: By Sue Lin, CRIMSON STAFF WRITER | Title: Jared Diamond | 6/1/2008 | See Source »

...says that his while his mom was initially very supportive of his taking time off, his dad??a Clinton supporter—was a bit more hesitant...

Author: By Lauren D. Kiel, CRIMSON STAFF WRITER | Title: Taking a Hike on the Presidential Trail | 3/21/2008 | See Source »

...srepentant and heartfelt confession on thechorus: “I’m only human / I’m a man, Imake mistakes.” Here and here alone doesRoss deign to talk about anything otherthan that rap trifecta of money/cash/hos.Instead, he recalls his “deadbeat dad?? who“never knew chocolate milk make you fartreal bad,” his struggle coming up, and hisown problems with his children and hisbaby’s mama. With this one track, Rossdiscloses a touchingly human side thathas remained buried until now. The factthat this...

Author: By Joshua J. Kearney, CRIMSON STAFF WRITER | Title: Rick Ross | 3/13/2008 | See Source »

...Revitalized by our freakish discovery, we climed back in the car and followed my dad??s inner compass down the hill where the road emptied into a village. We bounced slowly over the cobblestones of the street, beginning to get the feeling that cars weren’t big in town. Three older Italian men in suspenders, who were tanned the color of leather from the boiling Calabrian sun, sat playing chess under the awning of a caffé while sipping espresso and motioning with their hands. Every one of them was the spitting image of my grandfather...

Author: By Francesca T. Gilberti, CRIMSON STAFF WRITER | Title: All Roads Lead to Iacurso | 3/5/2008 | See Source »

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