In college I lived with a bunch of girls. I mean, I went through a ton of room mates, often living with up to six other (yes six!) crazy females at a time. Once there were six of us plus another unofficial roommate who lived on our couch and kept all of her clothes shoved in one of the drawers of our entertainment unit. I was also always changing roommates, because they were always doing terrible things. One had a boyfriend who used to urinate in my belongings (IE my Nestles chocolate milk container—pre-vegan days—and my re-usable water bottles). Another used to steal all of my things (clothes, perfume, sex toys..). Another slept with a guy I’d been dating who had just recently masticated my heart into a bloody sludgy puddle that sort of resembled the nice glass of beet juice I just had with my lunch.
Anyways, throughout my college career I probably lived with about 20 different girls. And for some reason, they all used to come to me to dish up on their sex lives. ALL of them. Even then ones who didn’t much like me. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that I wrote our college sex column or the Good Bush, Bad Bush T-shirt I strutted around in—pantsless of course.
To get to my point, I had this one (really really) stupid roomie who was contraceptionally challenged. I mean, girl couldn’t have safe sex to save her life. We were constantly having incredibly frustrating conversations about her stupidity. Here is an example of one of such conversations. I am going to call her Slutface Sally. (That’s mean! She was really cute. The stupid ones usually are..) Continue reading