Oh, what a tangled web we Billikens weave. As I perused the campus activity calendar one boring night, the options for entertainment staggered me. Make no mistake about it-this February is a weird month indeed.
Despite the Rams' playoff tragedy, the dudes of St. Louis will proceed to ignore their girlfriends in the celebration of grunting, chest-beating manhood known as Super Bowl Sunday. Beer will flow, farts will blow and women will go elsewhere, perhaps to watch "Desperate Housewives."
Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, which is probably why Valentine's Day was invented. That's right, fellas, our debaucherous day costs a hefty toll, so enjoy those extra beers that you wouldn't drink if your girlfriend was around and cherish every long-winded, profanity-laced tirade slurred by your buddies.
You'll need the stockpile of memories to survive whatever night of fine culture that your pissed-off girlfriend is surely planning. Roses are sold in the Quad, so plan ahead, brothers. Also, be sure to mention how much you enjoyed that whimsical rendition of "Cats," regardless of how close you came to clawing your eyes out in sheer agony.
This melodrama of revelry and reparation has transpired in American households for generations untold, but here at Saint Louis University a second dichotomy exists and-believe it or not-women are the perpetrators.
You see, next weekend several women will be talking about their vaginas in the upcoming "Vagina Monologues" production, which is fine and dandy because I talk about the Jonaconda on a daily basis. It's about time that women joined in on the fun, even if men are infinitely more astute at assigning nicknames for private parts.
What strikes me, though, is that "The Vagina Monologues" has become a Billikenette's version of Valentine's Day, a time of atonement for the previous week's bad behavior. Still confused?
Mardi Gras is this weekend, kids.
Yes, some of the very women in attendance for next weekend's bold declaration of all things feminine will seek penance from exposing all things feminine on the streets of Soulard-for a few strings of dime-store party beads. Never have so many done so much for so little, if you will.
Regardless of whether you pee standing up or sitting down, both sexes can attend Ben Stein's speech next Monday while recovering from the weekend's glorious excesses. Think of it as a way to stimulate those badly damaged brain cells.
An evening of intellectual conversation is just what the doctor ordered before returning to Soulard for Fat Tuesday's festivities. Stuff yourself full of food, indulge in a drink or two and take time to admire the local, uh, "scenery" in the last titillating good time you're likely to have before Lent begins.
Because-as any good Catholic knows-Lent is the real testament to February oddity, continuing into the ultimate March Madness. So enjoy it while it lasts, folks: We'll be storming the gates of McDonald's for our Friday fish-fillet fix before you know it.
Now that is weird.
