Manscaping: According to Simon Doonan, it's an epidemic amongst our city's movers and shakers. The depilatory procedure, "known among practitioners as 'back, sack and crack,' ...concerns male hetero hair removal. Yes, below the waist. Eeeeeuw!" Our feelings exactly, compounded with fear: Do we really have to go out and get our short-and-curlies tweezed away? Because, seriously, you could make wigs for every resident of Staten Island and have plenty left over for blankets and handkerchiefs. To get to the bottom (haha, get it?) of this whole sordid business, we checked in with the ladies of Jezebel.

Yesterday, news broke that the circumcision rate in the US was the lowest it's ever been, with some states' rates hovering below 50%. Experts attribute the drop to immigration, as well as changing attitudes about breastfeeding, the increase in natural births, and a growing antipathy towards inflicting pain on babies because of some 'covenant with God' bullshit. (Well, or just the first three.) We clearly feel strongly about not cutting skin off little infant wangs, and also we think uncut dicks are cuter, but we weren't sure how everyone else felt. So we asked a handful of sluts, a gay and a heterosexual Jew.

This week The Assimilated Negro and Richard Blakeley canvas the area to see what New Yorkers really think about the greatest plague of the age: man boobs.

"We've always thought we should save all our ire for corporate-controlled pap, rather than aiming it at our feminist comrades. But contentwise, these gals have recently sported some gnarly green between their teeth—er, pages," reads the introduction to an article in the Summer issue of Bitch magazine entitled "Et Tu, Bust?" Catfight alert! Wait... does saying stuff like "catfight alert" reify gender norms and undermine the possibility for serious discourse about dissent within the feminist movement? Or is it sometimes okay not to take everything feminism-related soooo damned seriously? This month, we read Bust and Bitch in search of the two independently published magazines' answers to those questions. Bitch's answers are: yes, no. Bust's answers are: no, and here is how to do your own highlights! Who will win? Hint: Not women.

Julie Fredrickson, the young lady who founded the fashion blog Coutorture after learning via a Glamour internship that fashion ladies are bitches, has discovered another hard truth about that world: Sometimes, it's a tough place to be the new kid on the block. In a post today, she takes issue with the fact that reporters from large, deep-pocketed news organizations paid for their tickets to the Council of Fashion Designers of America awards ceremony on Monday—even though they would've been comped anyway—while bloggers like herself, who 'couldn't afford' to buy a ticket, were shut out. It's not fair! What is interesting, though, is the email explaining the situation that Julie received from publicist Bonnie Morrison (pictured). As documents of sheer snotty bitchery go, it belongs in a hall of fame alongside... umm... Socrates'rebuke of Alcibiades in the Symposium!

From Mediabistro's Revolving Door:

When last we checked in on Glamour's resident navelgazeologist Alyssa, she was anticipating a summer of fun in the Hamptons tainted only by a mild worry that she might run into an old enemy. Luckily, it seems she's done nothing lately but make new friends! Hedge fund friends! "Older" friends! Friends who, when they see the way Alyssa's characterized her interactions with them on her bloggyblog, might not find themselves feeling quite so friendly!

"Wedding Web sites — also known as 'Wed sites' — were originally conceived as a convenient way for couples to notify guests of wedding events, provide directions and link to gift registries. Now they are turning into elaborate hubs of matrimonial exhibitionism, with confessional stories, courtship videos, and blow-by-blow accounts of the preparations," the Wall Street Journal reports today. Huh. Who knew? Anyway, apparently some people think this trend is tacky. "It is similar to sending an e-blast on the process of giving birth," etiquette writer Peggy Post says. "Show me the child, not the process." And, to extend her metaphor a little bit further, maybe also don't solicit donations to pay for the child's first trip to Disneyland in lieu of baby shower gifts?

Webbed Bliss: Brides And Grooms Tell All Online [WSJ]

That's right, kids, if you study hard enough, you can end up working retail for American Apparel.

Last night at the New York Public Library, amusingly Chuck Noblet-esque writer-gay Henry Alford quizzed New Yorker writer Rebecca Mead about her new book One Perfect Day. Henry wore a powder blue tuxedo, but in keeping with the theme of wedding-industry excess that the book decries, he had a different outfit for the reception afterwards. Kurt Andersen and David Remnick were there. So were Emily and Doree.

Vernon Winfrey claims that Things Unspoken, the book proposal with his name on it that we have a copy of, doesn't exist. Wow, that's a big departure from how he characterizes himself, uh, in the book: "Now, I've never been one to mince words. Way I see it, if the good Lord wanted me to bite my tongue He'd have given me soft teeth," he wrote. But now! "There is no book," he told TV Guide.com, adding, "We might think about it later on." Does "we," in this context, refer to Vernon, Oprah Winfrey, and an army of very stern lawyers? Vernon says that's not the case: "So did she talk to him about possibly not doing the book? 'No,' Vernon insists. 'It's just on hold right now, OK?'" For some reason, we're having a hard time believing him.

A mother playing with her son in Carl Schurz Park (perhaps you remember the location from its star turn in Harriet the Spy?) was disturbed by a nanny's behavior. It seems that the nanny, in playing with her young charge, was too enthusiastic, and the woman was inspired to write in to the blog where people like to bitch about other people's nannies. You know, isawyournanny.blogspot.com? Anyway, the woman basically accused the nanny of being retarded. Nice!

This week's Sunday Styles contained the most embarrassing, wince-inducing Modern Love yet in that column's history of personal betrayals and rampant oversharing. It's the story of Kevin, an impecunious freelancer, his wife Julie, and Frank, Julie's ex-husband. Kevin is incredibly insecure that Frank, who left Julie at the age of twenty-four because he was tired of being a full-time husband and father, wants his wife back, even though they are all old people now. Kevin compares himself to Frank in many regards and finds himself on the short end of every comparison. But how did Frank feel about the whole thing?