Sweaty Palms and Chafing: An Ode to Summa Time

Call me Jared Leto, but I despise spring. It’s partially because joy is spreading faster than Hanna Montana fever, and whenever I see an architecture student smile, I know there’s an English major out there crying just to maintain a cosmic balance. To a certain degree, it’s because Ithaca’s spring is a seasonal skort; look, spring, skorts are a creepy and confusing blurring of categorical boundaries. Don’t be a skort — I don’t appreciate getting a sunburn whilst freezing my ass off. But mostly it’s because spring just isn’t summer, and, if From Justin to Kelly taught me anything, it’s that there’s oh, so much awkwardlicious fun to be had in the summer sun.