“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 watched that movie Kids last night with my friends and now I want to make sure my shit is crystal. Where can I go get tested where it’s free?

TJ: You can stay home if you want. There are more than a dozen home HIV tests on the market today, but only the Home Access test is approved by the FDA and legally marketed in the U.S. It includes a finger prick and special paper to collect the specimen. Then your hopefully HIV-free platelets get shipped to a lab for processing. Just save yourself the trouble and head down to Michael Hall, they have free testing and the results should come back in under an hour.

P: Getting tested for HIV is like walking into a pop quiz when you constantly fall asleep in class. I’m the kind of guy that hides my test grades crumpled up in my backpack, and that’s pretty much the way I handle my sexual health. The only way I’d consider getting tested is if I could do it myself. If I find out I’m clean, I’ll probably throw a party. If I’m not, I’ll lie to everybody and say that I am, and then throw a party. Or I’ll just forget that I ever got tested in the first place. Free of charge, maybe, but never free of horrible adolescent irresponsibility.

Q: My dad bought me a bike and I want to start riding more now that the weather’s nice. Is there a safe route from South Campus to North? If I have to cross Millersport one more time, I’m afraid I’ll be hit by a car.

TJ: There is definitely not a direct bike route. Staying on the shoulder of the road and taking caution when heading to an intersection might prevent a total catastrophe. You have brakes, right?

P: I’ve been riding my bike a lot lately, too, and it’s true—there is no route between the campuses that doesn’t have an astronomically high chance of bodily harm. I tried, but what I thought was a trail ended up being a bike lane down Bailey Avenue, which is kind of like playing Frogger in fast-forward—on Ecstasy. But hey, if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. I recently took the brakes off my bike and replaced them with a fixed gear apparatus—in other words, if the bike moves, your legs move, too. The idea is to get up to the speed of a car and go with traffic, but watch out for cross traffic at red lights. I recommend you sell the bike and buy a Ford Probe.

Q: I’m sorry, I think you guys get this question a lot, but what the fuck is a UB2020 and is it dangerous for animals?

TJ: Supposedly it’s going to make UB super frigging awesome. As evidenced in John Simpson’s recent editorial in The Spectrum, it might just be a ploy to sell more UB sweatshirts. As for the animals…unless they decided to fill Lake LaSalle with concrete, I think the waterfowl—the only wildlife found around here—will be just fine. Part of the plan could be offing all those geese, but you’d have to ask the Prez himself.

P: UB2020 is a plan initiated by UB President John Simpson to get a lot of people to start coming to school here and make our school real famous. To be real, it means school’s gonna suck while you’re here, until you later find out that it was apparently awesome. You didn’t know, because you were living in Spaulding at the time, trying to figure out how to get to a grocery store. Later in life, you’ll forget never finding a place to park, and that the university eliminated your major at the end of your junior year, and you’ll think of yourself as a brilliant researcher, whatever the fuck that means. UB2020 is not a chemical, 2020 is a year, and that’s all I can tell you. Ask your advisor, if you have one.

Q: I went out to my car yesterday and it wouldn’t start, it just kinda made this wheezing sound. What should I do?

TJ: Good Christ, don’t remind me of the havoc winter reaped on my car. You probably won’t have trouble jumping it since there are no longer sub-zero temperatures to freeze your engine latch shut. I think I broke my knuckles from pounding on the hood out of frostbite-fueled frustration. Old Man Winter is a heartless bitch.

P: A man who can’t fix his car is like a pathetic raccoon who can’t operate a garbage can. I guess you should stand outside the driver side door and panic for a little while. Don’t forget to wave your arms and make little whimpering noises until some poor freshman girl takes pity on you.