Author Archives: S. Zelda Roland

I missed the show. I left the opening early, then I left town for a little under a week, and when I returned, it was all over. So I missed the show. Or at least I missed the good part. Because this is how Making Do worked, according to their I-made-do-on-Yale-School-of-Art-stationary flyers: “On Oct. 10 »

The other morning on MSNBC, Fox News Sexperts discussed the pressing issues of students having sex in college and why Bill Clinton showed his calves in the now-infamous Chris Wallace Fox News interview. The former consisted of two older women debating the nature and future of 18-year-old women deciding to sleep with men. Essentially, Sex: »

My off-campus apartment building was on fire the other night, and, having to evacuate, I grabbed my laptop and my loafers, then moved first to Ashley’s for sugar-free fat-free frozen yogurt (a high) with carob chips (a low), and then, to a friend’s apartment, where we proceeded to watch television and avoid responsibilities such as »

Every time I find myself in a situation where I must introduce myself as Zelda, I cringe a little inside. It’s a bit like the feeling you get when someone asks where you go to college. There’s a little bit of shame in it — a spot of hesitation, restraint, perhaps out of politeness, or »

Just the other day, I was in the Arts and Architecture library when someone seemed to be vaguely disturbed by my paper-ripping, the purpose of which was to supply myself with makeshift bookmarks for a volume of images I was examining. When this unnamed (and rather unattractive) creature slowly lurked towards me to give me »

I’m a decent person. When I’ve really enjoyed a class, I write a nice course evaluation. I try to be as specific as I can. I sometimes mention whether or not the professor is pretty (I just can’t learn from people I don’t find mildly attractive — it’s weird); how much such-and-such course relied on »

The new Facebook has arrived. Some students have capitalized on the additional photographic opportunities offered by albums; others just don’t care. As for me, all I can think about is how it relates to porn. Let me explain. Everywhere I Facebook-turn, I see something to the effect of “View More Photos of Joe” on the »

The other day, while casually browsing the Internet (as I tend to do for long hours on end, while my boyfriend is playing Halo), I wound up at a Website that loosely called itself “ExploitedBlackTeens.com presents Da Dirty Ol’ Men, and the Black Teens That Love ‘Em.” This was a little disconcerting to me, as »

If you had a twelve-inch wide crotch, you’d probably wear fantastic undies. Huge undies. Undies with a foot-wide elastic band and a six-foot backside. If you happen to be male, these undies might even have a three-foot long opening … for your convenience. Alas, I’ve seen these undies (and no, I haven’t slept with any »

Urban Outfitters gives me the heebie-jeebies in the same way that Au Bon Pain does: How and why is it possible to consume the exact same almond-covered croissant everywhere you go? And more importantly, why does one store insist on dressing college kids with the exact same “vintage” clothes in every single town? I am »

Most people like to talk about why their families are more dysfunctional than yours. But author David Sedaris makes a stronger case for his family than most do, or at least a funnier one. For example, has your little sister ever worn a fat suit in order to trick your father into thinking she was »

Ah, freshmen: young girls showcasing themselves as new meat ready to be packaged and sold courtesy of your local Frat Row pimp, while freshman boys sit at home like vegetarians, drinking their ill-gotten liquor and concocting schemes to remedy the situation. While not everyone fits this stereotype, there is enough truth to these frightening scenarios »