Though the uppercrust jetsetters may have already left on an extended Thanksgiving hiatus, those of us stuck in Cambridge must endure yet another second-rate college weekend. The three days ahead, billed as Harvard's greatest gas, have yet to live up. Harvard-Yale weekend, in all her sexy splendor, is really just a big tease and everyone's her sucker.

Rumor has it that CityStep finally updated their unchoreographed dining hall antic. Say goodbye to the simian Congo Line--oh! ah! CityStepCityStepCityStep. A new era of stomping, clapping and booty shaking promotion has arrived and not a moment too soon. Everyone agrees that tonight's fete is doomed to dorkdom with only push-over freshmen and D-list upperclassmen planning on slapping on garish, recycled prom gear. Don't get seduced by the moonlight.

Considering a special faculty dinner at you local Harvard House? These power-schmoozing opportunities come off painfully low-budget despite the efforts of HDS to dress up the affair with dim lighting, tablecloths and live music. Don't fall for it. This weekend, she's just a playah.

The supposed highlight of this all is the inevitable game itself. While enthusiasts claim that the chaos across the river is an opportunity to enjoy the school spirit that "normal" colleges experience, we have one word: BORING! If ass-numbing cold and nosebleed seats will fullfill you, then Harvard/Yale is for you, chump. (P.S., don't think that the tailgate party out the back of the Mercedes M-class is for you; the Moet & Chandon is legit and so are watercrackers. Only alums actually get piece this weekend.)

By Sunday, unfulfilling Harvard/Yale weekend may have you considering Swanwhite, the so-called "grown-up fairytale" playing at the Agassiz. But guess again, it's no more salacious than those ass numbing seats.

Don't let The Game play you.