How not to screw up a screw

By Michael May And Matt Morgado

While waiting in the rain, hoping for the Yale offense to erase a 14-0 halftime deficit, it came to our attention that there may be only one way for Yalies to score, and it ain't between the hash marks.

It starts in the dining halls, the buttery, the weight room, the intramural secretaries' meeting, and the communal showers. It consumes more time than Assassin and is more nerve-racking than fighting the Simpsons and X-Files crowd for Sunday night football. It's more agonizing than waiting for the Yanks to free up $8 million dollars for Chuck Knoblauch's contract. Yeah, that's right, we're talking about the endless pursuit of the perfect screw-your-roommate date.

In our four years of begging and pleading for girls to fill our intramural coed squads rather than our lovin' arms, we've learned a bit about the ins and outs of Screws, and we're here to pass on some of that hard-earned knowledge. But, like they said on Reading Rainbow, "You don't have to take our word for it." To protect the anonymity of our sources, we will call these two shady characters Mike M. and Matt M.

Mike M. was pacing and fidgety as he prepared for his first screw date of the year. Mike, not one to be shy around Grandpa's cough medicine, decided to calm his nerves by opening his throat and emptying the bottle. Let's see what happened to Mike. As he found out the next day, he danced with his tie around his head in front of his master, lost his date for two hours, had her paged at the D.J. table, hit her in the face while dancing to "YMCA," cried over spilled beer, and sang "No Woman, No Cry" so loudly that people on York Street recognized his voice. Lesson to be learned from the Michigan man: take it easy on the screwdrivers, or you will drive your screw to drink.

Matt M., never considered for the starring role in Boogie Nights, knows more about broomball than the ballroom. Not one to have his mind stray from the New York Yankees Professional Baseball Club for very long, Matt was more interested in offseason transactions than seeing some action. At every Screw, one should be able to say his date's name without a scorecard. While Mike needed to learn when to say when, Matt needed to know when to say something.

These sad tales of screwing up have inspired us to concoct a new plan of screwing to our satisfaction. The obvious first debate we encountered was whether to set our roommate up with a fellow Yalie with whom he can communicate throughout the night or with someone who's going to make him sweat and make the others drool. Such a superficial question as that will not be acknowledged by these authors at this time, but we do understand that whistles and catcalls can qualify as a form of communication. The second dilemma we ran into was how to sucker the woman into actually saying yes to our initial-thieving roommate. That's when we talk about all the beautiful little M&Ms that they will create in the future, and if that works, we make like the Real McCoy and "Run Away." But seriously, we have no idea how to get women to say yes.

Our advice to all of those trying to swim, not sink, in the dating pool this Screw season is to take a chance. And if it doesn't work out, let's just hope that on Sat., Nov. 22, a Hail Mary is pulled down in the back of the Bulldog endzone so a Yalie can finally score.

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