Q: I spend a lot of money to go to school here. How much more do I have to spend to get the parking lots salted and/or shoveled so I don’t slip, fall, and die on the way to my class? I mean, where does all my parking ticket money go if you can’t even do that?

TS: I hear you buddy. You’re better off coming to campus wearing a pair of ice skates than even attempting to get through the parking lot without busting your ass. I think whoever is in charge of plowing is like, “Fuck it. Not as bad as ‘77. They can deal.” As for the money, I really don’t know, because it sure isn’t going into improving anything parking-related at UB.

AB: Well, technically the UB Parking and Transportation is responsible for that. But did you know that the UB Transportation office is directly affiliated with Generation? Unfortunately, your parking ticket money—yup, comes right to us. We then go to the bank, cash everything in as hundred dollar bills, and snort lines of blow through the money from the Student Union terrace as we watch losers like you slip walking to their car. Keep it up.

Q: I have come up to SU 315 many times to drop off personals...and there is no drop box for them (the ad in the magazine says there is). Thanks.

TS: A few years back some prankster stole our box. We could use one. Contest: whoever comes to the office with a homemade personals box first wins something awesome. And by awesome, I mean something we found laying around the office.

AB: Thanks? What the fuck? Oh, you’re being sarcastic. Got it. Well, you are most certainly welcome. Asshat. You obviously got this question to us so I don’t quite see the problem. And since you posted it from the net, we now have your IP address. I think we will interrupt production tonight to hack your WoW account and let your buddies know that you are incapable of sliding a sheet of paper underneath an office door. Good day to you.

Q: Last year I hooked up with a girl that I knew from home and things didn’t work out at the time. Now she’s the only girl I want to be with and she won’t give me a minute of her time. I even broke up with my girlfriend for her…should I just give up on her?

TS: This sounds like something from a mid-‘90s teen comedy. You know, guy gets girl, guy loses girl, guy has bitchy girlfriend who he breaks up with. Someone throws a booze-fueled graduation party and guy somehow hooks up with said girl. Cue music by Sixpence None the Richer. End.

AB: Tara totally nailed this one; it’s got Seth Green written all over it. But Sixpence None the Richer? C’mon! That would mean a happy ending. Face it, bub; you’re done. You kind of blew this one already, sorry. I foresee this flick ending with Joy Division’s “Love Will Tear Us Apart” playing as you hang yourself from a homemade noose fashioned from your ex’s hair. That’s Academy Awards material right there. A little bit of sexy, a little bit of sad; they’ll eat that right up.

Q: I deliver microphones for teachers on North Campus. My bosses are dicks, and I want to do something to let them know. Any ideas?

TS: Nothing says, “Hey. You guys are dicks!” like spitting in someone’s sandwich and then watching them eat it. Better yet, provide them with the sandwich; they’ll think you’re actually doing them a favor.

AB: Frankly, I think the whole “I deliver microphones” part is irrelevant, and well, just a little forced. I can’t help but feel like you are trying to get me to make a microphone-in-the-ass joke, and I just don’t want to make one. Sigh. Ugh, well, I guess just spit in their food? That’ll work, right? I don’t know. Shame on you. Did you realize I told the guy above you that hanging himself would be sexy? Where the hell did that come from? Anyway, yeah, mic in the ass, sure.