Credit: Female Bonobos

Credit: Robyn for Spring Fling

Last Year, Spring Fling 2014 headliner Diplo instagrammed a picture of his flaccid penis with the caption “Trying to get into the Vatican but not on the guest list.” This sentence upsets me, namely because of the phrase: “Spring Fling 2014 headliner Diplo.” The Spring Fling Committee just sent out their annual survey, and this year, we should demand someone better than the guy who ranked below Lil’ Romeo on Papermag’s top celebrity dick pics of 2013. In fact, we should demand the best, and by the best, I mean feminist icon and late-90s Swedish pop sensation Robyn. Unlike last year’s performers, Robyn is neither irrelevant (Betty Who?), misogynist (Fuck Ja Rule!), nor (to the best of my knowledge) eager to publish pictures of her genitals (Diplo). In fact, she is the opposite of all of those things and more. I guarantee that the “Call Your Girlfriend” music video will make you reconsider both your haircut and the homo-hetero binary as a modern social construct. Robyn is a goddess among women and the Greatest Artist of Our Generation, but she is not yet our Spring Fling 2015 headliner. The campaign starts now #robyn4sf2015.

D: Engagements

I was FB stalking my high school nemesis the other day when I stumbled across an upsetting post: my former AP Spanish partner had gotten engaged to her boyfriend of six months. On the one hand, I was super happy that she and her new fiancé managed to find lifelong love amidst the quagmire that is college hookup culture. But on the other hand, are you fucking kidding me?!? I have yet to commit to a shampoo brand for over six months, let alone another human being for the rest of my living days. This is not a standalone event, either. It seems that everywhere I turn, people are becoming responsible adults who do thing like get married and buy non-Ikea furniture. Just the other day, my camp friend got engaged to a dude despite being in only one profile picture with him. That’s the same number of profile pictures that I have with a random stranger who was in my high school prom band. But whatever, I’m not freaking out or anything. I’ve been in a really committed relationship with “Broad City” and my bed. Maybe there was no proposal, but it feels just as real.

Fail: James Franco sightings

Once, when I was in New York, my cousins and I saw Academy Award winner Anjelica Huston getting out of her car. None of us recognized her except my cousin Kendall, who complimented her on her work in the movie Daddy Day Care. She did not respond. That is the closest I’ve ever been to a real life famous person. So when I heard that James Franco was TA-ing my friend’s Major English Poets section, I found myself overcome with a jealousy that only Beyoncé could articulate. Little did I know, James-as-TA was just the beginning. Lately, my newsfeed has been inundated with selfies with Franco, reports of Franco sightings, and stories of real life Franco interactions. His on-campus presence is so strong that the fact that he has not yet sought me out individually feels like a personal affront. Did my sexual awakening during Tristan and Isolde mean nothing to you, James? Was the fact that I am one of four people worldwide who watched your adaptation of As I Lay Dying completely insignificant? (Well technically, I only watched the trailer and read the Wikipedia summary, but, details). Well, I’m tired of waiting around. I’m the one handing out the grades now. If you wanna turn this Fail into a Credit, you can find me on Instagram @countesschocula.

Cr: Fall foliage 

I’m not always the biggest fan of leaves. I mean, salad is objectively the worst, and I once had an unfortunate incident involving a bathing suit and poison ivy. But despite my general leaf apathy, I must confess that the recent foliage sitch in New Haven has gotten me relatively jazzed. Two reasons: First of all, I find that a warm color palette complements my complexion really nicely. Put me in a Barbour jacket next to a Gothic building and a pretty tree and I swear you’ll think you walked into a J. Crew catalogue. Secondly, fall foliage allows for the most ideal Instagram situations (#fallstagram). While fairly inactive on Instagram myself, I’m an active stalker of other people’s Instagrams, so let me break this down for you. Aesthetically pleasing landscape + seasonal timeliness + showcase of school pride + ironically ambivalent caption = Insta gold. You may not get as many likes as you did for that picture where you’re doing bunny ears on Stephen Colbert, but you’ll at least reach Oreo-stuffed chocolate chip cookie levels. Pretty good for what is essentially a picture of a plant with the caption, “Not bad.”

D: Campaigns

In the movies, when a mysterious guy knocks on the door and asks “Is (your name) home?” the main character is about to either fall in love or get axe-murdered. And by the time the 12th canvasser banged on my dorm room door and asked me who I was voting for in this year’s Ward 1 alder race, I would have gladly settled for either of those options. It’s not that I don’t care about elections in general—fulfilling civic duties is my bread and butter. I also realize that canvassing is an important part of election campaigning and can see why people do it. However, as much as I support canvassers as theoretical entities, I really hate actual canvassers when they interrupt me as I’m trying to learn how to fishtail braid my hair by watching instructional YouTube videos. If I decide to give up on having awesome hair in order to answer the door, then I’m at least hoping to be greeted by Chinese food that my roommate ordered.

F: Double standards for muffin tops

As Jenna Maroney once said, “everyone knows that the most delicious part of the muffin is the top.” Yet while muffin tops are undeniably desirable in the context of breakfast pastries, they are decidedly unsexy when considering the human body. This muffin/human double standard has become increasingly apparent now that we’ve arrived at the time of year when you start to carry a little extra blubber on your body to stave off the winter cold. I mean, buying a Canada Goose jacket is a lot more expensive than eating eight magic bars, and they both essentially serve the same purpose—provide insulation. However, when you finish a bag of half-priced Halloween candy in one sitting, your gain in outerwear money is balanced by a loss in sex appeal when you realize that you can no longer wear jeans without looking like a mushroom. Luckily, this problem can be solved by simply wearing leggings all the time because a) leggings make people think you’re sporty-chic and b) they allow you to drink full-fat pumpkin spice lattes while enjoying the comfort of an elastic waistband. It’s true that you might develop frostbite on the exposed area of skin between the bottom of your leggings and the top of your shoes, but until society affords human muffin tops the same glorified status as real-life muffin tops, it’s a price you’re going to have to pay.

Cr: Morse/Stiles

Morse/Stiles has finally managed to beat the curve after 50 years of consistent Ds (saved from failure only by its acceptable freshman housing and brick oven pizza.) This remarkable ascendance in rank is not due to any sort of extra credit work on the part of Morse/Stiles. No, they are still as inconveniently located and off-puttingly modern as ever. It’s just that now there are going to be two brand new colleges that are even more inconveniently located and more off-puttingly modern. (I obviously don’t know this for sure, but I’m thinking no angles at all—just a bunch of circular rooms smashed together in a giant honeycomb.) The new colleges are like the kids who sleep through your Psych exam when you forget to study. You might not care to interact with them, but you are nonetheless thankful for their existence as it relates to grade distribution. And everyone knows Yalie’s never pass up an opportunity for grade inflation. So thanks, Charles B. Johnson. You’ve earned more than just a congratulatory e-mail and your descendants’ gratitude. You’ve earned Morse and Stiles’ eternal thanks for finally achieving mainstream status.

D: Yale football culture

If Friday Night Lights has taught me anything, it’s that football unites a disparate community through the celebration of a time-honored American tradition. If Mardi Gras has taught me anything, it’s that drinking during the day is awesome. Tailgates and football games combine both of these things and are thus objectively must-attend events.  So why, this Saturday, did I spend my time hitting the books in Sterling stacks rather than hitting the booze in stadium stands? I’ll tell you why— because no one I know goes to tailgates. (It has been brought to my attention that some people at Yale do in fact go to tailgates. However, I am from Texas, by Texas standards, no one at Yale goes to tailgates.) My crippling fear of going places alone overwhelmed my desire to bond with fellow Yalies by getting day-drunk together. However, conformity is terrible, so let’s all not conform together and go watch guys display their masculinity by tackling each other while Baton Girl leads a group of girls in the Single Ladies Dance.

F: Spring Fling surveys

If you’re like me, then your iTunes consists of Dixie Chicks albums, alternative rock from middle school years, and songs from your spinning class. Chances are you are not like me but that is not the point. The point is that even though everyone likes different music, everyone hates when people make them feel lame for not knowing about the cool underground artist they found on Pitchfork. (I don’t know the names of hipster music blogs, so I googled “hipster music blogs” and this came up.) The Spring Fling Survey is that feeling-lame-phenomenon times one million. Yes, I realize that no one can know every single name on the survey. But when I can’t even determine whether the name I’m reading refers to a band, an artist, or a laptop that plays dubstep versions of Beyoncé songs, I’ve hit a new low. (CHVRCHES, I’m looking at you). In my opinion, the only way for the Spring Fling Committee to turn this fail into a credit is if Robyn is the headliner for Spring Fling because Robyn is the greatest. (if you haven’t heard of Robyn, I realize this assertion might seem like a contradiction. But in reality, I think it is a wake-up call.)

Top five real-life responses to “April is National _________ Month”

5: IBS awareness: if you have IBS, April is your month to make the world aware of it.

4: Confederate history: remember Secession? Those were the days.

3: Guitar: because fuck violins.

2: Frog: at this point, they’re just choosing random nouns.

1: Stress awareness: since telling people about your IBS does take its toll.

INCOMING: Razors

This past week I saw three girls wearing skirts without tights and almost cried. To others, bare legs might signal the imminent arrival of a glorious spring; a well-earned respite from blizzards, hypothermia, and unflattering parkas. To me, the rising temperature only means that I now have to start shaving my legs more than once a month. Part of me feels like I should protest the patriarchal leg hair double-standard and throw away my razor in a gutsy statement for gender equality, but I signed an online petition protesting the use of Photoshop in Seventeen Magazine like a week ago, and there’s only so much protesting a girl can do.

OUTGOING: The honeymoon period

This past week I saw three girls wearing skirts without tights and almost cried. To others, bare legs might signal the imminent arrival of a glorious spring; a well-earned respite from blizzards, hypothermia, and unflattering parkas. To me, the rising temperature only means that I now have to start shaving my legs more than once a month. Part of me feels like I should protest the patriarchal leg hair double-standard and throw away my razor in a gutsy statement for gender equality, but I signed an online petition protesting the use of Photoshop in Seventeen Magazine like a week ago, and there’s only so much protesting a girl can do.