The freshman invasion has come to fruition. Now that Freshman Week is so beyond passe, the Yardlings are starting to develop precocious Harvard 'tudes of their own. None of the so-called cool frosh (oxymoron check!) will deign to eat at Annenberg, so they're flooding the House dining halls. Watch out for the scarcely postpubescent on the prowl for upperclassman friendship, fun, and more. Yech. The correct response to, "Hey baby, what's your concentration?" is to forget your tray and bus your ass out of there.

Speaking of lame, what-up with those pedophiles with a freshman fetish? Uh, last time we checked, mating and dating was supposed to involve an element of challenge. Granted, it's true that these tender first-years may exude some shagadelic Lolita appeal, and the Class of '02 has an uncannily high hotness quotient, but still...Does that really explain the abundant proliferation of skanky Harvard law students, voyeuristic townies, and Intro Course TFs who offer "one-on-one review sessions" in their private chambers? We think not.

But this desperation might well be correlated with that vile statistic that makes this place sound like a eugenics farm: "85 percent of Harvard people find their spouses here." Hmm, just imagining the ego wars that go on in a Harvard-Radcliffe marriage will cause heartbearn. It'd be like the Clash of the Titans and "Moonlighting" all rolled into one and on acid. This would make a better statistic: "85 percent of Harvard people find their spouses ere...and 98 percent of them divorce them after two weeks of pure hell."

And oh, the buzz has it that universal key card access for Quincy is in the works. What they tell you: "This way, when you're studying with your friends in Quincy, you don't have to call on the outdoor phone to be let in." What they really mean: "With your new, improved, universal slidey card, avoid all the embarassment of waiting outside for a late-night rendezvous with your Quincy House hookup pal." Too bad they don't offer the access to Wellesley students.

We really oughtn't to be shooting the breeze about l'amour and its ramifications when there are midterms to study for. Not, you tools. There are soooo many better things to do than studying for midterms. Like inventing cold fusion. Like making voodoo dolls. Like hitting on freshmen. Like plucking your eyebrows. Like contracting bubonic plague. Like chatting online.

Chatting online, now that's a warped world. Ever notice how netizens can't spell? Typical internet guy types: "You prolly think your too kewl for me. Hehe." Our typical response: "Damn, that's the first intelligent thing that you've said all night." And then there are those girls with cutesy names, like "tedibear" and "kupkake," with three mental food groups: Beanie Babies, Leo D, and diaphragms. Excuse us while we puke ever so gently in our little corner of cyberspace. But better that than studying for midterms.