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In This Issue

• Getting Wet at Gethard's
• Columbia Secret Societies
• Blood Donor Laws Become More Strict in the Year 2010
• Valentine’s Day Box-Office Success Spawns a Succession of Sequels
• Thoughts in My First Snowstorm

I love fresh snow. It makes everything look so clean! Like little bits of heaven coming down to cover the earth. Look at me; I'm not even religious. It's the snow... It's like that time I went into St. Paul's Cathedral. I should go there more often. I'm going to, I'm going to go there more.

Aw, the snow's starting to cover our fire escape. Adorable.

I don't know why people call it a "blizzard," like it's some scary thing that's coming to eat us. Snow just makes everything cute. Like a real live Norman Rockwell painting. You know what? I want to write poetry right now. I do-It's the snow. I'm going to write snow poetry. Snoetry. I want to change my last name to snow. Nina Snow.

It is really coming down out there.

Oooh, two lovers walking together holding hands! So precious.

The thought of being snowed in seems fun. Flex that Netflix Instant View a bit. Make some hot cocoa, get in my jammies, curl up by the fire, read a book of leisure. Pronouced "leh-sure." Finally write that great American novel, clean my room, organize my gmail inbox...

It might get cold, is the only thing. Especially in a dorm. We don't have a fireplace, so there's that.

What's the thing called when you go crazy? Oh, cabin fever. Like in that episode of Fresh Prince. Or in The Shining. Don't serial killers have cabins, where they keep cadavers? Whoa! Downer! I need to think positive thoughts. Bunnies... Raymond Chandler... Nutella...

If we got snowed in, not that we would because we're on the fourth floor, it'd probably be more like Fresh Prince.

Hah, Carlton. He's just the best.

Oops! Someone just tripped in the snow. Gotta be careful out there, girl on cell phone! People talk on the phone, oblivious to their surroundings, and then get surprised when-

Is she bleeding? God it's coming down hard. She's definitely bleeding. I should open the window and call out to her, make sure she's okay.

The window is stuck. Why is the window stuck? Window, you open out onto the fire escape. You don't have the luxury of being stuck.
Please girl, get up, please! Please, before some fiendish pervert comes along and ruins your innocence with duct tape and a handlebar mustache.

The snow's packed it in. Oh my God, the snow has packed it in. We're going to get snowed in. We're going to get snowed in, and I won't be able to escape because the window's stuck. The snow should melt though. It melts. It'll melt.

But what if it doesn't? Hold on. What if the snow...doesn't melt? What if the snow doesn't melt? What if it doesn't melt? Snow is white, evil things are white, like anthrax and the Klu Klux Klan!!

This is The Shining. This is The Shining and I'm going to lose my mind and that poor cell phone girl is going to die a horrendous death. Because we're all trapped in this horrible snowstorm.

The food is going to run out, and I'll have to eat ants. I don't want to eat ants. Are there even any ants here? What if there are no ants? I'll have to eat my own arm for sustenance, I'll probably start with my left hand cause I'm a righty. But when I eventually finish my left arm? Do I go onto my right? Or maybe a foot? Would I rather have no arms and two legs or one arm and one leg? God, I thought picking dresses was difficult.

That couple holding hands, I bet that they are not really supposed to be together, my guess is that they're married to different people yet here they are, flaunting their infidelity. They might as well be wearing a huge flashing neon sign that says, "WE'RE ADULTERERS ".

This, this blizzard. The blizzard that brings the icy Armageddon and wipes out 95 percent of all humanity. The survivors will have to fight mutated moose for the scarce resources in an endless winter horrorland.

This isn't friendly snow. It's pure malice. And it's the worst kind of malice. It masquerades as something else. Something cute. An excuse for city government to pass out hot cocoa and organize sledding in Riverside Park. Sleds don't have any seatbelts, if you hit a bump, you'll go flying out. Your head will strike the pavement and your skull will fracture. Jagged pieces of skull will lacerate your brain and leave you as a drooling idiot.

An excuse for young lovers to frolick and make snow angels. You know what happens when you make snow angels? You get snow in every nook and cranny of your backside. Even worse, snow angels are basically fallen angels, fallen angels like Lucifer Morningstar, the ruler of Hell. And snowball fights? Who sanctioned hitting people with tightly packed baseballs of frozen hatred? That guy down there looks pretty muscular, he could definitely throw a snowball at this window. A snowball that would crash through and strike me in the nose pushing it up into my brain and killing me instantly. Is he looking at me? I can't tell. He is! He most certainly looking at me! He's trying to decide how best to end my pitiful life. He's choosing between the snowball of death, and coming up here and impaling me on an icicle.

Those people are building a snowman. But is that really a snowman? Or is it a snow idol, to which they will sacrifice a nubile virgin victim? They'll stalk some young girl, and snatch her when nobody is looking. They'll tie her to the ground and then with a curved knife they'll rip out her heart and solemnly place at the base of their bloodthirsty idol.
Snow. What's it really?

Little white pelts of death. I've seen Eight Below. Frostbite? That shit is real. That shit is real and if I go outside I'm going to die from it like that poor girl just trying to talk on her phone. Probably talking to her mom. Who's in the hospital, after being mauled by a deranged Battlestar Galactica fan.

Look at that wind! Snow is smacking her in the face!

Vengeful gods, what have we done to deserve this? Do not torture us and leave us writhing in frostbitten fear of further wrath, just speak! Speak or kill us, and end our misery now! I will die in Ruggles, but I will die in solace, for I will know what I did was wrong.

You who hath given me life, who hath given me hope, who hath given me love, you, you shall bring me to my death! White gods of torrid nature, bring me to my death! Let not the anguish of time slowly pick away at my mortal flesh. End my pathetic existence now and with it all my base and vile foils! End this!

Poor girl trapped in the street, you are going to get buried in snow! Your innocent face will no longer visible, disappeared in white film!

Oh, she's standing on the street corner. Seems fine.

Hey, it stopped snowing!