“I’m Right. You’re Wrong.” is an advice column especially designed to help University at Buffalo students. So if you have no one else to turn to (and I mean absolutely no one) drop off your question in our personals mailbox or email us at askgeneration@gmail.com. If you’re lucky, your question just might show up in the next issue.

Q: I am deeply in love with this Puerto Rican girl in my World Civ class, but I don’t know how to impress her. I’ve only taken SPA 101, so what can I say to her to make me stand out from all of the other white guys who go to this school?

AM: Well, since you’ve taken SPA 101, you can start by introducing yourself with a smile—try not to appear nervous. From there, you could say something like, “Hola, ¿cómo estás? Te quiero decir que pienso que eres muy interesante. Me gustaría conocerte mejor. Estaría muy encantado si salieras conmigo o algo parecido. Creo que tu sonrisa es atractiva y elegante. De verdad, me gustas. Quizás me puedes enseñar algo más de español.” If this doesn’t win her affection, it will at least impress her.

C: Just walk up to her, look deeply into her eyes, and softly say these words, “Eres una cabrona. Tienes unos ojos tan negros como el ano de un mono y los labios tan rojos como las tetas de una vaca. Tienes los pechos tan grandes como el estomago de una mula. Te amo, mi puta querida.” Bro, I’m telling you, she’ll be all up on your shit.

Q: In a recent trip to the bar I came to the stunning realization that I am a square. All of my friends were getting funky on the dance floor while I stood against the wall watching. When I attempted to shake my booty, I got dissed by the ladies, even the ones I knew. I used to get girls, but now I can’t. How do I get my groove back?

AM: It sounds like you’re putting yourself in situations where you feel uncomfortable. Just because you don’t fit into a certain crowd doesn’t mean you’re a square. Perhaps you’d like to try going to a different bar that attracts a different scene. Whatever you do, don’t just try to fit in with everyone else. Be yourself. Do your thing. If you’re confident, you’ll find your groove again.

C: You just came to this realization? Let me guess—you’re a white man, right? You can’t get back what you never had in the first place, so seriously, just stop dancing.

Q: How do you get rid of onion breath?

AM: Onion breath is caused by a chemical released into the bloodstream during digestion. The blood eventually flows back up through the lungs, causing the smell to come out with your breath. Unfortunately, there is no way to prevent this. There are, however, some things you can do to mask the odor. You could chew on some salt-dipped parsley, coffee beans, or fennel seeds. Scraping your tongue (especially the back) when you brush your teeth will also reduce some of the sulfur-producing bacteria in your mouth.

C: Don’t listen to Ann Marie. Cut that vegan-organic shit out and start eating processed foods like everyone else, hippie. If your breath still reeks, take up smoking.

Q: I recently decided to start washing my hair. What kind of products are animal-friendly? I’m a vegan.

AM: Some different vegan companies include Nature’s Gate (my personal favorite), Dr. Bronner’s, Aubrey Organics, Beauty Without Cruelty, and Tom’s of Maine. Many of these products are available local grocery stores where organic/vegan products are sold, like Wegman’s or the Lexington Co-op on Elmwood.

C: There used to be this bum who came around my apartment when I lived in Allentown who never washed his hair either. His name was Lenny, and he was all greasy and drunk; always asking me for money when I was leaving for school. So anyway, one morning I get out to the street and see my car window all smashed in, but there’s like, nothing missing from my car. The stereo was there, all of my CDs, all of the change in the ashtray. It was like some fucker just broke my window and couldn’t find anything in his crackhead haze—except for my dad’s old cell phone. But the thing is, the cell phone was some real old-school Zack Morris type shit—like, you know, bigger than a normal land-line phone, giant antenna and all. So, I’m all pissed off for a while, but then things cool down and I start to forget about it. Then, one night I’m out at the bar, sitting there sipping on a seven-dollar can of Japanese beer when Lenny walks up to me. He starts in with the usual—asking for change, trying to sell me weed—but then the fucker just busts out my dad’s cell phone and tries to sell it to me. That’s totally fucked up, right? So yeah, Pert Plus works pretty well for me.