Along with the annual canonical cage match that pits Chanukah, Kwanzaa, and Christmas against one another in a veritable bout to the faithful finish, an additional holiday of epic ecclesiastical proportions has thrown its yarmulke/kitenge head wrap/Abercrombie knit cap with ear flaps into the godly gauntlet: I-Am-Furiously-Unequivocally-Crippled-due-to-Knuckleheaded-Educational-Decisions Day, established by the sophomores of Wesleyan University.

I Am Furiously-Unequivocally-Crippled-due-to-Knuckleheaded-Educational-Decisions Day, which, through some wholly unintentional, yet poop-your-pants-and-call-it-chocolate hilarious coincidence is an acronym for “I Am FUCKED Day,” is to be celebrated on December 13. This triskaidekaphobic day is the start of Wesleyan’s institutionalized period of collective sodomy upon the student body (or, as some call it, reading week/exam period).

According to this holiest of holy day’s founder, Ryan Douglas ’08 felt that members of the class of 2008 needed an opportunity to gather as one, wax nostalgic about the naïve debaucherous days of freshman, and, most importantly, talk about how they are all really, really fucked. “My mission is to create a day when everyone can put aside the stressful rigors of their tumultuous academic lives and come together to just chill. That being said, after about twelve seconds we’ll all remember that everyone is failing their classes, we’ll all be homeless prostitutes in three years, and everyone’s parents wanted to abort them. Gee whillickers, I’m getting’ goosebumps just thinking about it!” exclaimed Douglas. Moments later, Douglas realized that these goosebumps were probably due to the fact that he had lost 15 pounds in the last week, having strictly subsisted on a diet of snow, Starbucks Frappucinos, and the lint from his oversized holiday sweaters.

Douglas, along with his faithful followers of FUCKED, are planning a bountiful banquet for the 13th, complete with all the necessities to bring joy to the grueling life of a sullen sophomore. “There won’t be any food, per se, but there will be plenty to ingest, including, but not limited to, Red Bull, Double Shot Espressos, Bawls, Sobe Adrenaline Full Throttle, Adderall, No-Doze Trucker Strength, crack, those caffeine pills that Jesse took on Saved by the Bell, you know, that sorta thing,” explained FUCKED Day organizer Kendra Stone ’08. “I prefer RockStar Energy Drink, because it lets me party like a rock star!” exclaimed Neil Carroll ’08. “Of course, by ‘party like a rock star,’ I mean stay up until seven in the morning writing a fifteen page paper about post-modern German aestheticism, sinking deeper into a crushing chasm of depression until I eventually cry myself to sleep as the sun begins to rise. Man, it’s like David Lee Roth and Axl Rose are having a showdown inside my head! Rock on!”

Some sophomores are hoping that the more carnal qualities implicit in any college gathering will be on display during FUCKED Day festivities. Antwon Albright ’08 expressed his desires to relive the ferocious philandering of his younger, more formidable years: “I remember last year, during orientation week, I got laid seven times. Most times by a person. This year, I don’t even think I’ve seen my penis seven times. And, like, I live with my dick!”