My Role on the Bachelor

I would SO be the one who would get out of the limo, first make sure my boobs were in my dress (I got it at Ross!) and only next change out of my Keds into some heels the producers picked out for me.

I would NOT pull my lower eyelids down to scrape black eyeliner on them.

I would probably have roots, and would pick my thong wedgie in the hall out of camera sight.

I'd freeze some competitor bras in the villa icebox. Oh, and I'd actually wear a bra. Even 23-year-old breasts aren't what they used to be, Ms. Mansfield.

I would sabotage any woman 1) named Desiree or 2) who didn't know enough not to get tanked on bubbly on opening night.

I'd capitalize on the fact that the Bachelor went to school close to my NJ hometown for a year. "I screwed a guy from your school!" I'd tell him. "Did you know Brian Lyons?"

crickets.

I would not use the words "jealous" or "genitals" or "my extensions" no matter how much ABC paid me. However, "Your inheritance" and "drink, sucka!" are fair game.

I might invite him to IHop and/or Taco Bell during the Get to Know Ya Sessions.

If I didn't get a rose, I would have the limo drive me to town for 1) tequila, and 2) a little man who would most definitely know where to buy me a pink carnation.

I can't decide if I'd run or make out with the Bachelor if he said marriage would "suck" if you didn't get along 20 years into your marriage. I'd probably run. In my Keds. Back to Taco Bell.

Hot.