“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: What is slam poetry? I keep getting spam email about it.

TJ: Slam poetry is a type of postmodern performance poetry. Poets present, mostly original, work in spoken word form. A “slam” is the competition where the audience votes on a numeric scale after the poets perform their pieces. Slam poetry in the mid-90s was usually associated with the hip-hop scene but now has branched off into different genres. Beat poets of the 50s are often credited with influencing the slam poetry movement. Like any type of art, slam poetry is expressive and ever changing—so maybe that spam email is part of the act.

P: Slam poetry is basically spam email but it’s not funny.

Q: Do you guys have summer inturnships?

TJ: No way. We get the fuck out of here ASAP.

P: Shut up, Tara. The answer is yes. But acceptance is limited, and the position is pretty competitive. We handle it a lot like we handle our annual boozefinder hunt. It’s a lot like a scavenger hunt, but with less “scavenging” and more “buying beer at the grocery.” The challenge comes with how much you can carry in the provided Generation tote bag to the office this Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. Winners will be announced the next week. At any rate, once you win—I mean if—you can show up the first Monday in June with a supply of red pens, ten sponges, some 409, and a mop. Three credits offered.

Q: My penis is so big, that sometimes girls make fun of it. What can I do?

TJ: Have you considered a career in porn? I heard they love enormous cocks in that field—the bigger the better. If that doesn’t work, you can dress it up as a clown and perform at birthday parties. I mean, girls make fun of it so you’re already on your way.

P: Hide it. Lots and lots of Superman band-aids.

Q: My roommate plays Second Life pretty much nonstop now. I want him back.

TJ: Make everyone you know call him a loser to his face. If that doesn’t work, I can’t imagine why you would want him back.

P: Fuck around inside his computer with a magnet and a screwdriver. That’s what I do with my friends’ possessive girlfriends. It works good. Don’t get shocked.

Q: Everyone says you have to do acid when you’re in college, but apparently you can’t buy it anywhere. What’s the recipe?

TJ: If you try and cook up some acid, it is highly likely you will produce something poisonous, and most likely die or become gravely ill. No one told me I had to try acid, what kind of people are you hanging out with? Just don’t do it.

P: Or just do it. First you get out a big mixing bowl and combine the following, which can be found at your neighborhood grocery store. Four parts water, two parts seltzer, one parts each of whipped cream, Ajax, honey, Sinutab, wart remover, motor oil, paprika and catsup. Whisk vigorously. Eat with wheat thins and don’t fucking tell anybody I told you this.

Q: My roomate is kind of a slob. I’ve told him to clean up his shit, but that didn’t seem to work. I don’t know what else to do.

TJ: Leave not-so-subtle notes around the areas he leaves messes. Like, “Dude, didn’t you make pasta three days ago? You’re fucking gross.” Maybe then he’ll get the hint.

P: At least your roommate isn’t “kind of” a money-grubbing cheetah. Then, my friend, you would be in some blood-blowing trouble. If you told me to clean up my personal belongings, I’d knock your pussy lips into next week. Sheesh.