Here’s a shocking surprise: The Frisky staff are a bunch of total pervs. And even though I don’t write a ton about sex, I basically have the mentality of a 12-year-old boy, where I think butts, boobs and penises are super funny all the time. This morning, in a haze of cold medicine, I started thinking about my long-held theory that tons of supposedly clean pop songs are actually just thinly veiled missives on boning. Like come on, just what are Hall & Oates referring to when they sing “I can’t go for that, no no, no can do”? It’s definitely about anal.
After the jump, we ruin some of your favorite songs.