Parental Supervision Required

There's great benefit in having a nursing student for a roommate. Namely, she gives great advice on how to shorten a cold or can stitch up a gash from a veggie chopping accident while I'm passed out from the sight of my own blood.

But the best part of ALL is the fact that she works in a health clinic and has fantastic stories about the redneck patients she sees.

Most of the time, the stories are funny. Like the one about the large woman who wore jeans with two perfect-circle holes in the butt and had a boy in tow named DeWeese (bahaha). Or the one about the man who had to come in because he'd stuck one too many household objects up his poop hole.

But last night, she told me a story that's almost too horrifying to believe. I know this is going to make me sound 75, but what the hell is wrong with kids these days?!

Yesterday my roommate had to perform a pelvic exam on a 12-year-old girl because she'd been caught having both regular and anal sex in the bathroom at school.

(Yes, you read that right. When my roommate told me, I dropped my toothbrush and almost passed out and chipped my teeth on the sink.)

I know this is too much information, but when I was twelve, it was a BIG deal when the sluttiest girl in 7th grade went to second base...and that's just a little fondling.

Apparently, this sexually active preteen was both angry and scared to death of the exam. Um, hello? A little Q-tip swab is nothing in comparison to a penis in your butt. Ugh! It makes me want to shake her. In my opinion, a 12-year-old isn't mature enough to be dropped off at the mall, let alone having sex. What is she possibly thinking? And does this mean that MY kids will be having sex when they're five?

But here's the kicker. After my roommate gave her the whole spiel about abstinence, safe sex and birth control, the girl asked if birth control tablets come in CHEWABLES.

I may not be an expert, but I know that if you have a hard time swallowing a birth control pill (or want it in a fruity flavor), chances are you shouldn't be having sex. Period. End of discussion.

Now go to your room.

Wrestling With "Reality"

For whatever reason (perhaps this blog?) I recently received an invitation to a closed casting call to be on the next season of The Bachelor—I apparently have what “they’re looking for”. Whatever that means.

My first reaction was total disbelief. I definitely belly laughed and then wondered which of my goober friends pulled the prank. But after a little research, I discovered that the individual who contacted me really IS a casting agent for ABC.

I’ve polled a lot of my friends and every single one of them thinks I should audition. (Whether they think I’d do well or just want to tell people their friend is “famous” is unclear...)

My thoughts on auditioning are mixed. On one hand, it could be a great experience. When else would you get the opportunity to fly to exotic locales and drink loads of champagne on yachts? But on the other hand, every time I’ve ever watched The Bachelor, it’s mainly to laugh at the silly drama of all the stupid hookers. I can’t quite wrap my head around the thought of BEING one of them.

The only way I can come up with solving this dilemma is the classic pro/con list:

Pro: Free vacation. (Hell yes.)
Con: Telling my boss why I need three weeks off work.

Pro: Fantasy trips/dates.
Con: Putting up with (probably annoying) women tagging along on said fantasy trips/dates.

Pro: Being on TV. (Or is this a con?)
Con: My ENTIRE FAMILY watching me make out with a dude on national television.

Pro: Being one of the only cool, down-to-earth girls in the show’s history.
Con: Living in the same house with Barbie look-a-likes who think Oscar Wilde is an edgy designer.

Pro: Free booze.
Con: Being craftily edited to look like a snarky bitch on national television.

And…we’re back to square one. I’m torn. This is of course all assuming that I even make a call back, which is doubtful. The casting agents could just think I’m “nice”…

I’m opening the floor for your opinions/advice/hysterical laughter.

To Bachelor or not to Bachelor?