Condoms are motivation enough for anything. Obviously enough, because I have returned!

Boy oh boy, would you ever have guessed? I didn't. But with a little boredom, some persuasion from Aaron, and the magic of the second-least-likely-to-be-voted-sexually active girl in the class being the one with a condom in her wallet, I found my magic carpet back now to find an Aladdin... Okay no we're not gonna do that. That's bad. Oh blogosphere, how I missed ye! I've also been on tumblr; however, that doesn't have near the substance of an actual blog. It's mainly a bunch of pretty pictures that I deem relevant to my interests. There are also hipsters and chic-liberal rantivists everywhere. That's the only term I can coin for some of them, partially because it's constantly clogging up my dashboard. I could unfollow them, but no. That's far too easy a solution!

Anyway, let's talk health class! Currently my class is studying sex education (to which I usually scoff and go on a little tangent regarding how abstinence-only education is, while not entirely useless, outdated. Teens screw each other. This situation is not ideal, but hey, teach 'em safe sex as much as no sex). Today, in a little game, I, by shaking hands with him, acquired AIDS from a dirty Mexican whore  Colin, whom I'm surprised would touch me at all after World History last year and a little current event about goat rape. Everybody ended up infected sans Alison, my best friend, and two others who were nonetheless worried about their cleanliness. Afterwards, it was revealed that the instructions Ali randomly pulled from the basket were to remain shake-abstinent and instead, ask others if they wanted to talk. Nobody wanted to. We're all shake-phomaniacs. Look, shake, move on. She was also asked by the teacher, after all the rest of us were shown to be infected, if she wanted to shake with any of us.

Ali: "Umm.... No not really."
Andrea: "I have another hand!!"

I would go on to touch her all over just for the sake of being spiteful. And also because sometimes you just have to make the room wonder if you're a lesbian.

Later on, after lunch and one of my many adventures with Colby the Explorer (which you will doubtless hear about later. I'm obsessed) and the rest of our theatre-lunch crew, we discussed AIDS vs. pregnancy statistics and somehow improper, but entertaining uses of condoms came into discussion. Mrs. Turner, my health teacher, told us about an interesting little trick which she would demonstrate, but alas, after much searching around her desk, she did not have a condom in her immediate possession. I remembered that I did, thanks to one Mother's Day where my mother, a non-native English speaker, didn't know condom vs. condiment. Soooooo... If I'm known as "the condom girl" or any variation of such from here on out, I won't be surprised. Nobody expected it, too, because I am one of the least likely people to get laid. Forever alone! ... Unless I become a nun. Of the bank-robbing variety. I'm not very religious.

I refused to blow it up, because of the many things I don't want out of health class, lube on my lips is pretty close to the top. However, she persuaded one of my more shameless peers to blow it up and see how large it would become before it popped. He was becoming pretty exhausted as the condom grew ridiculously large. Strong little fuckers, they are.

Not pictured: Lubrication stains and classmates laughing hysterically.

It was huge by the time it popped; I'm not even sure if I'm exaggerating in that drawing. Some girls wanted to take pictures, but Mrs. Turner refused to let them. ... I'm not sure if blowing up condoms during class is considered particularly dangerous (it was semi-relevant!), but... Well it was latex. Another teacher walked in mere minutes after this, and chances are our sudden outburst of laughter aroused her suspicions, especially after how Mrs. Turner had quickly shooed her out of the room while she was searching her desk for condoms.

Oh condoms, how I love thee and feel so odd without one in my wallet anymore. I think Colby has a huge pack of them that his mother bought for him after he jokingly told her to pick some up one day... Maybe I'll bum one off of him. Never know when I might feel the need to relieve awkwardness by blowing one u--nowait that makes it worse, doesn't it...


Use protection, guys,
Andrea! <3