Welcome to the Gawker Locker Room: where maturity goes to die! Here your host and toastmaster Furious George will present a topic of discussion for open commentary, vigorous debate, and potential masturbatory purposes. Our topics will be diverse, random, juvenile, and vitally important. Either Melissa Joan Hart on Clarissa Explains it All, or Jenna Von Oy on Blossom. Oh, excuse me, I didn't see you there! You caught me in mid-thought. But it's a very important thought, and one I'd like you all to grin, bear, blush nervously, and consider aloud. This week the Locker Room wants to know: Who was your most embarrassing childhood crush, real or fictional, and why?

Welcome to the Gawker Locker Room: where maturity goes to die! Here your host and toastmaster Furious George will present a topic of discussion for open commentary, vigorous debate, and potential masturbatory purposes. Our topics will be diverse, random, juvenile, and vitally important. Ever since I was old enough to see The Little Mermaid, I was old enough to wonder why Ariel tramped it up in such a revealing little seashell bikini. Now, many years later, I find myself revisiting that topic. In my head. Frequently. And let's be honest: don't we all? I realize that perving out over animation is supposed to be the semi-exclusive domain of fetishists, weirdos, To Catch a Predator regulars and the Japanese. But I just can't help myself, and, I suspect, neither can you. So tell me, kids: Who is the hottest cartoon character of them all?

Welcome to the Gawker Locker Room: where maturity goes to die! Here your host and toastmaster Furious George will present a topic of discussion for open commentary, vigorous debate, and potential masturbatory purposes. Our topics will be diverse, random, juvenile, and vitally important. The philosopher Kanye West once remarked: "Whether you broke or rich, you gotta get biz / Havin' money's the everything that havin' it is." Indeed, Kanye. Indeed. No matter how noble we imagine ourselves to be, there comes a point in our lives when we realize that money can, in fact, buy happiness. There may be those who disagree, but who are they kidding, right? If there really are two Americas, as the late Communist organizer Ivan "John" Edwards would have us believe, wouldn't you much rather live in the America who summers in Gstaad, cellars cases of 2000 Margaux Margaux, scoops passionfruit-cognac gelato from the gold-plated shells of endangered sea turtles, and dines on crème d'aigle chauve at by-invitation-only restaurants in Tokyo? Let's address this question, folks, once and for all: is money the root of all happiness?

Welcome to the Gawker Locker Room: where maturity goes to die! Here your host and toastmaster Furious George will present a topic of discussion for open commentary, vigorous debate, and potential masturbatory purposes. Our topics will be diverse, random, juvenile, and vitally important. Last week I stated my intention to make the Gawker Locker Room is a safe place for womyn and geighs. And to that end, I thought about asking a nice and cheeky question. Something along the lines of: "Which male Gawker personality is the most fuckable?" But then I realized that everyone would pick me, and furthermore, that they'd be correct. So that question was out the window. And then I got to skimmin' every damned comment in the previous Locker Room thread, hoping to stumble across some juicy subject matter. One topic came up more consistently than most: Anderson Cooper. But once again, I think he's far too easy a subject. "Would you fuck Anderson Cooper?" has only one correct answer, and even I'm not ashamed to admit it. Besides, ol' Andy gets too much attention these days. Surely there are dozens, if not baker's dozens, of up-and-coming hunks and hotties lurking in Anderson's shadow. Why do we never discuss them? Why do we leave them of our greeting cards, our love letters, our interpretive watercolors, our one-act plays, our slash fiction, our self-administered tattoos, and our court orders? Do not they - the slavishly hard-working, the impressively credentialed, the hopelessly credible - deserve to be objectified? And so I ask you all: Which cable news hottie (male or female) is the most underrated, and why? Update: Commenter fiveinchtaint's Allison Williams link is totally NSFW.

Gawker's Locker Room, a discussion group for readers still pretending to be red-blooded heterosexual men, is wrestling with a pressing issue. adorably blond Serena or deviously brunette Blair, from the camp TV show, Gossip Girl: which would you rather fuck?

Welcome to the Gawker Locker Room: where maturity goes to die! Here your host and toastmaster Furious George will present a topic of discussion for open commentary, vigorous debate, and potential masturbatory purposes. Our topics will be diverse, random, juvenile, and vitally important. Today's topic: Who to screw? You see, as something of a traditionalist, I like WASPy blondes with big babylons. At the same time, I have been known to enjoy the company of snotty, spoiled, shark-toothed brunettes with daddy issues. Not surprisingly, watching a show like Gossip Girl is, for me, an exercise in existential quandary. Which to choose? Which to taste? Which to plow, gently, while Simon Le Bon asks us both to "Come Undone" in the candle-lit glow of my boudoir? And so I turn to you, gentle readers, and I ask thee: Who would you rather fuck, why, and how: Serena van der Woodsen or Blair Waldorf? Please elaborate in no fewer than 100 words, single-spaced. Cite relevant examples from the show Gossip Girl whenever possible.