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August 24, 2007

Campus Love: Your Guide to Affairs of the Heart

By Codependent Collegian Advice Columnist, J. Randall Bellingham

Hello again, love monkeys! It is I, J. Randall Bellingham, here to bing love to the loveless and give a smackdown to those in need of it.

I have been busy polishing the Mojo and penetrating into the abyss that is love, but enough about me.

You are here because you want to tap into my expertise, not to hear me boast about my conquests of many supermodel women.

Yes, there have been so many, and so many beautiful moments in which I have driven my pile-driver into so much forbidden supermodel territory.

But that is for another time.

Dear Randall:

I did something really stupid and I need your help. Last night things got kinda weird with Jenny and I. In a moment of drunken freaky lovemaking, I grabbed a jar of salsa - HOT - when I couldn't find the K-Y Jelly. Needless to say, we are both having some odd physical problems, and Jenny is really, really pissed at me. What should I do?

Sam in Palo Alto

Dear Sam:

My friend, they do not refer to certain anatomical regions as "tacos" for nothing. I suggest that a large bag of Tostitos and some Jose Cuervo might just be your ticket out of Tijuana.

Dear Randall:

I know that brothers and sisters are not supposed to, you know, "do the dirty," but my sister and I are both dropping suggestive hints that we could go there. What do you think? By the way, she is hot and of age.

Cooter in Tuscaloosa

Dear Cooter:

There is no inhibition that the right amount of cheap whiskey cannot overcome, and nothing the same bottle of hooch cannot erase from the memory banks. I say: Go for it. If nothing else, you will have plenty to keep a bevy of therapists gainfully employed for the next 20 years, and you guys might end up with one of those really scary looking mutant kids that you could put in the circus or something.

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