Cornell Sun Is Riding Pretty Dirrrty

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.

RagTime: Oh My My, TMI Edition

  • Harvard: Crimson writer details crippling addiction to 5-Hour-Energy.
  • Harvard: Authorities stop just shy of calling in the Seals, as seven police departments and the U.S. Secret Service join forces to apprehend a mugging suspect.
  • Yale: Alumnus George W. Bush’s presidential memoir — Kanye, dog poop, some other stuff that didn’t really matter.
  • Dartmouth: Columnist tells everyone to stop being such prudes.
  • Cornell: Columnist tells everyone about her tiny penis.

Penn Kids Are Horny, Want You to Know About It

Welcome to the best sex column on the internet — and you thought Lena Chen and Julia Allison had killed the medium! Penn’s Under the Button brings us Pennetration, featuring what promises to be a rotating cast of desperate, horny ladies and strapping young “Italian-American” (this is a plot point that matters later) dudes. Somehow we don’t think that romance, Philadelphia-style sounds that appealing?

Soon, Chris became a frequent visitor, bringing with him the savory Italian foods his grandmother sent him weekly. We would meet up late night after going out with our respective friends and drunkenly manage to whip up delicious treats. One night I put on music and we turned my living room into a dance floor, Chris expertly showing me surprisingly sexy dance moves he said he had learned in ballroom dancing classes.

Okay! For those who think a sex column is TL;DR, the Under the Button editors kindly bolded the most important parts. Finally, a SparkNotes for sex! Now I want to do it. The bolded words, in order, read:

my silent but extremely eager horniness… my first post-dumping fuck… Enter: the freshman… a potentially awkward situation… I showed him my apartment… surprisingly sexy dance moves… I was going down on him… above average girth… my jaw was exhausted after a good 5 minutes… the entire time I rode him… After he cummed and I de-mounted… I could sense him getting attached… I think we should stop hooking up… dumped by a freshman that I wasn’t even dating… lube obviously, preferably the female pleasing ones… sexy, sweaty sex

It’s like magnetic poetry! As for the interstitial text, the rest is noise.

We Have a Crush on a Talented Lesbian Sex Blogger

We Have a Crush on a Talented Lesbian Sex BloggerWe have a confession to make. We have a crush. Hint: she’s a blogger. (No surprise there.) Double-hint: she’s has a sex column. (Definitely no surprise.) But, sex blogging aside, she’s been producing some of the most consistently hilarious, smart, playful, insightful, world-rocking, superlative-inducing (Jesus, look at us) articles we’ve seen among college publications. Ever. This stuff isn’t just chuckle funny. It’s slam-your-roommate’s- head-through-a-window funny. It’s not transcendental and it won’t change your life. But it will make you want to jump in the air, e-mail all your friends, and dedicate the rest of your days to figuring out who the hell this anonymous wordsmith is.

OK, we’re getting ahead of ourselves. The column is called The Belle Jar, and it runs on Columbia’s peerless Bwog. (Disclosure: half of us used to work for Bwog’s parent rag, The Blue and White.) So far the author — female, gay, anonymous — has written only three pieces, but they’re each worth a close read. She tends toward the Linnaean (See? We feel like undergrads again), categorizing and sub-categorizing Columbia students. So far she’s kept it simple: an introduction, a cross-section of Columbia’s single scene, and, special for V-Day, a breakdown of relationships by type. You owe it to yourself to read them all. But for the attention-challenged, here are some snippets:

Read the rest of this entry »

Don’t Sex Columnists Get Off On This Kind of Attention?

Don't Sex Columnists Get Off On This Kind of Attention?You know you’ve arrived when you get your own fan-blog. But the true measure of success is whether you’ve inspired a hate-blog.

Miriam Datskovsky ’07, the Columbia Spectator‘s sex columnist (and opinion page editor), knows what we’re talking about. She’s been penning her column, “Sexplorations,” going on two years now. During that time she’s taken plenty of flak, like this scorcher that she ran on her own opinion page, but nothing has rivaled the meticulous vitriol of Fire Miriam Datskovsky. It’s a new blog so anonymously, obsessively hateful it kind of twists in on itself and, by the eighth sentence-by-sentence dissection of Datskovsky’s published prose, starts to read like a tribute. (Bwog’s burbling comment section is afire on the topic; it’s alternately hilarious and ad hominem.)

It’s true, Datskovsky is edging into Natalie Krinsky territory with her vanity site. But she’s been pretty good-natured about taking heat. “I don’t have a problem with the Fire Miriam blog,” she told us. “I think it’s great people are taking the time to comment extensively on why they don’t like my writing.” (As for Bwog, she says they didn’t contact her for comment before posting.)

Consider yourself lucky, Miriam — after hate-blogs come book deals.

(Full disclosure: We’re biased. Half of us had drinks with Miriam once and she is, for the record, a sweet, unpretentious gal.)

Sex Column Report Card

Sex Column Report Card
Bloggers usually fall into two categories: celibate introverts and sex-crazed exhibitionists. Harvard’s
Sex and the Ivy hails from the latter group. We invited her to critically appraise the Ivy newspapers’ sex scribes.

Natalie Krinsky should be credited for starting a revolution. 

After the Yalie’s column, “Sex and the (Elm) City,” landed her the book deal that became Chloe Does Yale, the college sex column has taken off like a beer goggled frat boy the morning after bedding Bertha. When it comes to overachieving, sex is the one area where the Ivy League falls short. Sex columnists have rallied in the past few years to make the Ivory Tower a more frisky place, with mixed results.

Nikki Nussbaum, Cornell Daily Sun
If you sign up to write a sex column, you better bring it all to the table. Nikki Nussbaum’s “Cornell Unzipped” doesn’t even bring the place settings. The Sun writer keeps it decidedly tame with advice like “weight loss and overall fitness are benefits [of sex] that go without saying.” Then why state the obvious? She tempers columns with disclaimers, reminding readers that she is “in no way advocating unprotected sex, cheating or putting off your work in favor of sleepless nights (the good kind).” Because God forbid sex keeps someone from finishing a problem set. The piece entitled “Eating Out at Cornell” was characteristically anticlimactic: it referred quite literally to dinner (dinner dates, to be precise). A virgin could write a better column. Next.

Sex? Hardly.
Dating/Relationships? Yes.
Sexual Health? Yes.
Personal? No.
Shock factor? No.
Inclusive/Non-heteronormative? No.

Chad Callaghan, Yale Daily News
Chad Callaghan is a guy in a girl’s world, chronicling the dirty antics of Ivy Leaguers from a gay man’s perspective. But unlike our straight columnists, he’s all-inclusive, throwing a bone to the breeders with pieces on love triangles that affect gay and straight alike. His insight on Facebook’s cruising potential for “GaYalies” rings too true: “We don’t even need to meet men to find out if they’re ‘mos. We’ve got ‘advanced search.’ ” A most suitable successor to Natalie, Chad is the first on my to-call list if I ever make it down to New Haven. Who needs pepper spray when you’ve got a well-accessorized shopping buddy?

Sex? Yes.
Dating/Relationships? Yes.
Sexual Health? No.
Personal? Yes.
Shock factor? No.
Inclusive/Non-heteronormative? Yes.

Miriam Datskovsky, Columbia Daily Spectator
Of the Ivy League bunch, Miriam Datskovsky’s “Sexplorations” is the column most reminiscent of “Sex and the City” — except this gal can actually write. Part social commentary, part personal experience, Miriam’s musings are honest without being trite. She is also the most established columnist, a veteran who has generated interest from Gothamist and some book agents. She claims no sexual expertise but still tackles adventurous topics from anal sex to pornography. Her risky approach pays off in authenticity. Last February she wrote: “Hooking up with my favorite guy friend was a no-brainer-until an incredibly un-glamorous bedroom incident on the night of my 19th birthday left me lost and lonely. … Tomorrow will be exactly two years since my ill-fated fuck buddy incident. By all outsider and dating-book standards, I am still setting myself up for disaster. But I care too much about him to go back now. Logic says I should get myself out before I really get hurt. Logic is the last thing I care about.” Carrie was never so sincere.

Sex? Yes.
Dating/Relationships? Yes.
Sexual Health? No.
Personal? Yes.
Shock factor? Yes.
Inclusive/Non-heteronormative? Yes.

Heather K. Strack, Dartmouth Free Press
If Carrie Bradshaw had a younger sister, she’d be Heather K. Strack. Well-intentioned but not quite experienced, Heather makes an honest effort. Alhough I get the feeling I’d finish the job better and faster if I did it myself. She explores all the usual topics, from dating younger guys to the college hookup culture, but avoids making revelations.

Sex? Yes.
Dating/Relationships? Yes.
Sexual Health? No.
Personal? No.
Shock factor? No.
Inclusive/Non-heteronormative? Yes.

“Ask the Sexpert,” Daily Princetonian
I thought Cornell’s lackluster pillow talk was boring; Princeton didn’t even put out. In lieu of a sex column, the Tigers have “Ask the Sexpert,” an advice column in question-answer format. The feature “is written by a team of peer sexual health educators and fact-checked by University health professionals.” In other words, writing to the “sexperts” should be your last recourse next to phoning my conservative Asian mother. To be fair, I’m a fan of information on sexual health, but I don’t want to get guilt tripped via newsprint. Besides, I question whether these sexperts are the ones to go to for advice. When one girl wrote in bemoaning her sexless relationship, the columnist responded: “I don’t want you to doubt your feelings for your boyfriend or vice-versa, but it could even be the case that your boyfriend is actually not in love with you anymore.” They sure don’t mince words.

Sex? Yes.
Dating/Relationships? Yes.
Sexual Health? Yes.
Personal? No.
Shock factor? No.
Inclusive/Non-heteronormative? Yes.

Brown, Penn and Harvard haven’t succumbed to the trend, though I doubt from lack of interest. If traffic on my blog is any indication, the student body is morbidly fascinated by other students’ bodies. When The Harvard Crimson opened up applications for this semester’s editorial columnists, I sent in a pitch and two writing samples for consideration. A few days later, a rejection form letter arrived in my inbox. An editorial board executive later informed me that the account of my Brazilian waxing was hilarious, but I’d have better luck pitching the column elsewhere.

I hate to say it, but maybe Yale would be more receptive.