Valentine’s Day is upon us–which is another way of saying that no one is safe from the deluge of co-ed op-eds explaining, with cute euphemisms, how to use a lady condom or style your pubic hair. Least of all the Cornell Daily Sun, which is really kicking the pig as far as sex talk goes.

The Sun ran a couple of lascivious stories today, both of which seem to have been excerpted from Chicken Soup for the Stripper’s Soulless Vajayjay Adventures. First up was the personal essay by Kate C. about sticking needles into your tender bits, poetically entitled “A Piercing Matter”:

…I skipped straight out of my Genetics exam, got not-so-staggeringly drunk, and headed down to the Commons, where dear Dawn at Stiehl’s put a needle through the hood of my clitoris.

For everyone currently fainting into his or her Terrace salad: it really wasn’t that big of a deal. While the clitoris may have 8,000 nerve fibers, the hood is just a thin flap of skin. According to Dawn, who really is remarkably hard to ruffle, the clitoral hood piercing is one of the least painful and fastest healing, a fact to which I can now attest. Sure, it hurt, but only for like a second — and then I felt like a total fucking badass.

It only gets more interesting from there, honestly. The word “Muscliteer” is used. This American Life is evoked, no doubt to the horror of Ira Glass fans everywhere. We salute you, brave crazy girl with redacted last name, for sharing personal details about your vagina! Cornell has officially raised its bad-ass count to one.

In related breaking news, a columnist called–seriously–The Preacher’s Daughter has some inspiring things to say about vaginal haircare. It’s always a treat to watch a sex columnist flailing around for synonyms for “pubes.” (Some of the choicest include “thatch,” “luscious locks below the belt,” “denser forest,” “betty.”)

Not to be crass, but the story’s a bit of a hair-raiser. Mostly because it makes the general assumptions that Cornell students (a) have sex, (b) have sex often enough to care what their pubes are shaped like, and (c) know what a merkin is. Oh, sorry–”twat toupee.” God, we have to go fan ourselves with something.