So, you’ve decided to read my column, huh? Probably not because of my sassy intro. Or that classy title my lovely editor has managed to come up with this time. No, I’m pretty sure it was that sexy, breathtaking picture of me lurking slightly down and to the right. The one that made you mutter those three fateful words: “What a fox.”

Halloween at Cornell is a pretty terrifying thing. I’m pretty sure that over the course of the weekend, I danced with exactly two naked girls, 16 Lady Gagas and one very drunk, very enormous and very velvet penis.

But it doesn’t take a decked out holiday and copious amounts of alc … candy … to scare me on this campus. In fact, I’ve got a pretty long list of fears that pop up all year round.

You know, the other day it dawned on me that I am an awkward turtle to the n-th degree.

Now, I know, I know, you’re all saying to yourselves, “But Cristina, you are très cool. You’re column is genius; your witticisms, witty; your flair, flair-like.”

Indeed, this is all true. But while I sound good on paper, in reality, the length of this column is about the length of my response to someone in casual conversation. In other words, I talk too flipping much.

Renting season is upon us. I know this because every day now, I get interrupted by at least two groups of clueless freshies looking for their first real home as they parade through my room.

They gawk at my spotless décor, all the while exclaiming to themselves how well-decorated everything is and how, “It’s absolutely perfect! We’ll take it!”

Only they never do. Or else the tours would cease.

So, in light of the new Twilight movie, which I know we are all just dying, just bursting at the seams to go see, I thought I’d make a little proposal to the folks at the New Student Reading Project: Why not put a classy piece of literature like Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight series as your freshman reading project book?

You see, I got stuck reading Lincoln at Gettysburg, which if you haven’t read it, can be summarized as a 200-page crap sandwich.