“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: Why is there a red monster truck in the Jarvis lot and why does it say SA on it?

TJ: Our student association is lucky enough to receive lots of money (from the mandatory student fee) to go towards clubs and events and that’s probably why an enormous truck is proudly parked in front of the Union. Either that or the SA’s phasing out the vans that look like they should be driven by your weird Uncle Hank.

P: A pickup truck can be a viable option in avoiding snow-related traffic trouble. I’m guessing that some shotgun-toting hick with a mullet and a penchant for ice beer owns the truck. He probably wears a lot of camouflage and uses the space in back to cart home wild animals he shot in the woods, when he’s not in Lockwood reading Guns & Ammo or trying to pass his one remaining class, World Civilizations 101. But the giant SA on the side leads me to believe it may belong to you.

Q: I’m getting close to graduation and that end-of-my-college-career sentimentality is starting to take over my life. Every time I go out with my friends, I start crying because I know that we won’t be as close after we all move away. How can I make it stop?

TJ: It’s kind of like ending high school. You went to college and met cooler people. Now you’re just going to have to replace your college friends with whoever is normal enough to talk to you at whatever measly job you may hold. Welcome to the real world, kids.

C: Maybe a nice, cleansing douche would help remove the sand from your vagina.

S: I once heard about someone who had the same problem. Every time he went out, he’d have a great time for a while but then after a few hours, he’d start to cry and tell his friends how much he cared about them. One night, he just lost it and started hugging everyone and sobbing pathetically. He passed out and all his friends left the bar. When he woke up, he found himself in a stall in the bathroom, alone, humming lines from “I Will Always Love You.” After that night, he realized that most of his friends were immature dicks, he never really liked college, and he was a raging alcoholic. He went to AA, got clean, and moved to Omaha. From what I hear, he’s doing quite well now.

Q: My landlord just turned off my heat and disconnected my phone line. I’ve heard the Generation office is pretty warm. How did you pull that off?

TJ: It’s unusually warm because we won the heat lotto.

C: We smoke this shit out constantly. I know you’re thinking that the previous sentence probably explains a lot, but what I mean is that we light an actual fire in the middle of the production room and huddle around it for warmth. Office equipment manufactured circa 1955 burns surprisingly well. We continue this routine until the summer, when our office goes from being a frigid forgotten hole, to an ungodly hot forgotten hole.

Q: I think I’m in love with my girlfriend’s best friend. Every time I see her I get really nervous and never know what to say. Usually she just smiles at me but she’s started talking to me more and more often. What should I do?

TJ: If you really love your girlfriend, remove yourself from the situation immediately. If this girl is single, and you don’t mind an incredibly messy breakup, pursue her. Millions of people get divorced yearly, grow some and go for it.

C: They say the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. The same holds true for your girlfriend’s friends. Chances are that this lass is appealing simply because she is not your girlfriend, but you still see a lot of her. The next time your current significant other gives you shit for watching Star Trek or drops your keys down an open manhole, you’ll be thinking about how easygoing and likable her friends are. You will most likely be plunged into a spiral of loathing from half of your current friend base, leaving you to contemplate suicide as you cry in your tub under the torrent of a cold shower.

So yeah, go for the one with the biggest tits.

S: Wink at her. Girls love that shit.