Um, no. Just no.

Remember Sex Ed?

Of course you do. See, I had the 'good fortune' of attending Catholic school from kindergarten to senior year of high school. We are all quite aware that Catholic school kids are simply hungry for any talk concerning sex, drugs and rock and/or roll.

Imagine our giddy delight when, in 5th grade, we were told that Sexual Education 101 would take place in our religion classes. Yes...religion classes. The Gospel of Ruth or Whatever the Hell would be detailing the birds and the bees. I was positively thrilled because I just had kind-of-sort-of discovered the female form (HA) by seeing the bubbies of Beverly D'Angelo in "National Lampoon's Vacation."

I wanted to know more. So much more.

We were given the option to participate, and we all quietly mocked those kids who weren't allowed to take part in the classes because their parents were way lame.

Prior to our classes, the other gentleman and I made predictions as to what would be covered. Questions ranged from "Would we see boobies?" to rumors that, in previous years, actual pornography would be shown. This allowed some more salacious classmates to claim they would stay up way late ("like 11:30!") to view Skinemax and gave us all of the sordid details.

The boys and girls were split up into separate classrooms and we eagerly awaited our introduction to the world of S-E-X. Images of boobies and hey-hey's and nay-nay's danced in our little, perverted heads as our teacher began her lecture.

But there were no boobies.

No pornography.

Not even the mention of "s-e-x."

Instead, we were treated to discussions of "saving ourselves for the right one," how we should never commit self-abuse (re: masturbate), and the saints thoughts and opinions of the sanctity or marriage.

Needless to say, the boys were pissed. I'm serious- we were outraged. That's why when the teacher opened the floor for questions, we took it upon ourselves to steer the conversation towards what we were interested in.

The teacher called on me and I asked what I thought was an innocent question about making love. Sweet, sweet love. I included descriptions of things I had seen on television and in R-rated movies that I snuck a peek at when the whole house was asleep. You know- stuff like "Red Shoe Diaries." Classy fare.

This led to the principal's office.

And a phone call home.

And a looooooooooooooooooooooooooooong and uncomfortable discussion with my father about way, way, way, way, way, way too much that I didn't need to know.

Gross.

I vowed after that day to wait until marriage (HA), find a good woman (DOUBLE HA), and never commit self-abuse (EXPLODING HA).

A lot can change in 16 years, I guess.