Cred/D/Fail: February 21, 2014

Cr: Johnny Weir

If you’re like me and love campy television, you’re likely familiar with lithe skating champion Johnny Weir, whose “Be Good Johnny Weir” proved a masterful feat of melodrama and verve -—the “Passion of Ayn Rand” meets the Project of Rachel Zoe. But if Logo TV circa 2012 was not so much your scene, you’re surely now Weir-aware thanks to Johnny’s crackerjack gig as a daytime figure skating analyst for NBC: he, along with 1998 gold medalist Tara Lipinski, was hired to wax poetic (and sardonic) about twists, turns and twizzles alike -—and validate my decision to only take afternoon classes in the process. The best part is that Weir’s outfits are even more elaborate than the preceding sentence: fuchsia blazers, sequin jackets, tight pants, lots of fur. And if Johnny Weir can wear no fewer than seven distinct and on-point outfits in Putin’s less-on-point Russia than you can get up and take a shower and go to class in pants with a zipper.

D: The Yale Corporation

In an effort to reach out to Yale College students, the Yale Corporation has instated a series of “teas” between its fellows and the student body. These outreach efforts are a true milestone in the Corporation’s storied history of pretending to care about undergraduates, which is why I’m wishing and hoping (and so on) that the next time that good ol’ Y-Corps tries to get jiggy with the youth (or, as the kids say, understand the millennial zeitgeist), they do so in a way that’s a *little* more brand consistent with their reputation as a cold and unfeeling yet massively powerful university governing board. We have these “tea” things all the time! I want more oomph. I’m thinking university yacht trip, University open-bar, University “summer as a verb.”

F: Walking

Good thing race walking is in the Summer Olympics, because this February has reduced my mobile proficiency from “more or less equivalent to the estimated time on Google Maps” to “slower than the speed you take the wagon on the Oregon Trail when three members of your party have typhoid.” At every intersection this week I’ve basically been fording the Big Blue River Crossing, but instead of losing both my spare axles and Ezekiel, my socks just get really wet. In the grand scheme of things, I understand water is a minor issue. But Ezekiel is a fictional pioneer and my socks are 100 percent real, so who do you really feel sorry for in the end? Yourself, that’s who, because when you play the game of puddles you end up damp or 15 minutes late to class but usually both.

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