What follows is in reply to “The Doggy-Style Lover,” a controversial and thought provoking piece which raised the issue of alcoholism and gender equality at Cornell. Welcome to The For Real Cornell Diaries, where I print the totally accurate, recorded lives of Cornell students. This week only, a new made up diary will be printed. While I maintain nothing about anything, all facts have been verified and all diaries record the true, unedited lives of different Cornell students living in The Real 14853.

Growing up, the only study abroad program I knew about was called, “apply for a green card.” And it was for life, not for one semester. Given that my country was undergoing political, social, and economic upheaval at the time I left, I think coming to America was a prudent choice. Since then, I have learned to fit in with my American comrades and say the pledge of allegiance. I have even picked up your language. But I have never had, nor understood, the desire to study in Paris.

They were somewhere into their sixth viewing of the movie this column gets its title from when they stopped the media player. “Hold on man,” I heard someone say. “I’m hungry.” This summer, I took some classes at an unspecified American college. Often, I would walk in on my roommates getting high.

For some reason, between Obama doing freestyle battle with his opponent and the real Sarah Palin bobbing her head to a stupid rap on SNL, I am not convinced any of them is fit to lead the nation. It almost makes me wish Ron Paul was on the ticket. Almost.

You know what really grinds my gears? People.

You know the place. Maybe it has a cool, hip name like Intelligentsia. Maybe it has a cool, hip, ironic name, like anti-Intelligentsia. You know, so that it makes you chuckle as you walk in, kind of like a douchebag. Then you order a bullshit, vaguely Italian sounding coffee, like an espresso, cappuccino, or latte, and you say you want it grande, again, kind of like a douchebag, this time a Hispanic one.