Deckhead:

Silk Blue Stockings

Body:

Undergrads: You may not think this applies to you, but it will — before you know it ... dun ... dun … dah …

1. The highlight of your weekend is when a bouncer gives you shit about your I.D. because he thinks it’s fake. In fact, I have never really gotten over the fear of getting carded, so I still act nervous … this is probably why everybody thinks my I.D. is fake, although I like to believe I actually still look under 21.

Body:

Note: I learned a few things from my last column: Joni Mitchell is not dead, I’m an unstructured writer and a chronic asshole. Apparently, Janis Joplin (not Joni Mitchell) offed herself in the seedy hotel on Sunset.

Deckhead:

Silk Blue Stockings

Body:

You know that you have reached a new level of sophistication when your life philosophy and self-perception is based on a cartoon. Yes, I am relating to the animated character Shrek. I often feel like an obese, green ogre. Hmmm … maybe I should talk to my shrink about that. And like this fictional, obese, green ogre, I view myself as an onion.

Deckhead:

Silk Blue Stockings

Body:

Yeah, she maybe a gold-digger, but Kanye, I think you got the pronoun wrong. I think it should be he’s a gold-digger, for this land of so-called equal opportunity really means equal opportunity to be an asshole. And, for all of our kumbaya-ing, the equal opportunity thing is a load of horseshit because minorities and women are still struggling for autonomy in this culture. Okay, that shouldn’t really be news to anybody, but honestly it is going to take more than a few red arches and smiling, ethnically balanced portraits in pamphlets to turn things around. For instance, as much as professors hum and hah about gender equality in lecture until they’re blue in the face, the young men at Cornell, generally speaking, still treat women extremely poorly. I find it frustrating that as much as young men here are aware of gender hierarchy, the practical application of this knowledge is left in the classroom and quickly dissipates on Friday and Saturday nights.

Deckhead:

Silk Blue Stockings

Body:

I am Dr. Phil’s wet dream. I sleep eight to nine hours every night; I eat five servings of fruit and vegetables each day; I exercise regularly and always use a condom.

Dr. Phil would be so proud.

Deckhead:

Tarnishing the Tiara

Body:

I wanted to visit Virginia Woolf’s London; instead, the shimmering cobblestones reflected the lights of Micky D’s and the enigmatic double tail of the Starbucks mermaid. (Yes, she has two tails — check your cup and consider whether it’s more disturbing that she has two tails, or that you’ve never noticed.) At any rate, I made the horribly American mistake of thinking London was going to be a Mecca of pinky-waggers and refinement. Unfortunately, capitalism and globalization reared their heads, and had I not assiduously avoided it, I could very well have fallen into the all-too-familiar lap of corporate America.

Deckhead:

Tarnishing the Tiara

Body:

The “cutting-edge conservative commentary” of Cornell University slammed my column; I take this to mean that I am doing something right. “Sounding the Trumpet” accused me of being lazy, to which I respond that I view laziness as a continuum. There are many degrees of laziness. Some have refined it to an art; others dabble.

Deckhead:

Tarnishing the Tiara

Body:

There is a land called Passive Agresseeva*, where the subjects communicate solely through tiny typewriters, small enough to fit in one’s pocket, which are attached to ringing boxes. This tiny-type-writer-ringing-box magically transmits messages written in a cryptic language that nobody really understands. The tool of Passive Agresseeva is implemented to mitigate feelings of solitude and rejection, but leads to much miscommunication, misinterpretation and frustration.

Deckhead:

Tarnishing the Tiara

Body:

Back by popular demand, I am finishing what I started two Mondays ago with the column “Top Five Men at Cornell Not to Date.” I nearly reconsidered the content of this article because fellow columnist Andrew McCue’s comments were so clever/witty/biting. Dude, Andrew a) the Andrew that was featured as the number one guy not to date wasn’t you, so keep your panties on, b) though you made fun of my article you stole its premise and c) wanna grab coffee sometime?

Deckhead:

Tarnishing the Tiara

Body:

1. The Social Amnesiac

His Line: “Have we met before?”

Game: He will approach you at the bar, at the library, in a café and often in the street. He will seem relatively harmless, not entirely unattractive and somewhat entertaining. The problem is that he has hit on you 45 times and he never remembers you. The only explanation for this inexcusable behavior is that he hits on such a large number of women that it is impossible to remember individuals. This is what some term the “shotgun approach,” which is when a guy believes if he fires enough shots he’ll eventually hit something.