I have so much advice left to give and so little time left to do it. Thus, in my final column I’m foregoing the letter format and just telling you what you need to know to get you through the rest of your time here at SDSU and in life. Delusions of grandeur? Absolutely.

The advice:

Stand up for yourself. The world loves nothing more to take advantage of the weak. Don’t let it.

Don’t be a jerk. There are already enough of them around, so if you suspect you’re one of them, do us all a favor and sit down and shut your mouth.

You’re not better than everyone else (see above). And the sooner you learn that, the better. It’s best to listen to me now, before the world smacks it into your head later.

Take care of the people in your life. People need people. Even Streisand makes good sense sometimes.

Go to class. Seriously, just do it.

Communicate. Most problems I deal with are either caused by lack of communication or could be solved by a bit more communication.

Use common sense; your mom was right.

It’s so hard to say goodbye to the Cosby Show: libby51@hotmail.com

Holy crap, do I hate baseball. That’s right, I think it stinks. There are very few things that I dislike more than watching a long drawn out baseball game on. And I watch golf on TV, for cripes sake!

It’s not that I haven’t tried to like baseball; I really have. I was raised on the Twins and the Cubs and always enjoyed my visits to the ballpark. My enjoyment was based far more on the peanuts and cracker jack, and far less on the actual sport itself.

Baseball was never an exciting sport to begin with, but lately it’s just completely fallen apart. The strike in 1994 devastated baseball’s reputation, making them seem greedy and uncaring. To further harden us to “America’s pastime” was 1997 – the year the Florida Marlins went about purchasing a World Series championship. Then we have the New York Yankees who make a mockery of the game by continually flaunting funds that small market teams only dream of. Then they win a lot of games.

Shocking.

If all of those horrifying things aren’t enough to put the final nail in baseball’s coffin, there’s the continually rising steroid controversy.

Suddenly, the thing that brought many of us back to baseball several years ago, the home run race, has been tarnished by whispered words of performance enhancers. Our hulking heros swear there’s nothing fishy going on, though all of America can hear their genitalia shrinking from those silly ole’ steroids.

But who can blame them for popping pills, really? I mean, if I had to fail drug testing six times before seeing any repercussions, I’d play fast and lose with the rules too, if I had a chance of getting in the record books.

So there you have it. A craptastic sport made worse by people who feel the need to cheat at it.

Give me football anyday. Give me basketball or women’s soccer or golf, or hell, televised poker; just keep your crappy baseball, I don’t need it and neither does the rest of America.

Communists or no, we know what we like.

Thus, go Bears!

Dear Libby,

One of my friends just hooked up with a guy and she’s doing that thing where she ignores all other life forms and dotes on him day and night.

I’m a little jealous, obviously, because we used to be pretty close. The past few weeks I’ve barely seen her, let alone done something fun with her.

But more than the jealousy, I’m worried about her. I don’t want her to be living and breathing some guy. I’m afraid of what would happen to her if they were to break up.

I don’t think she’ll be too open to my remarks, though. Any suggestions for making them heard?

- Gal Pal

Dear Pal,

To be completely fair, I should tell you that I have a lot of strange and completely irrational opinions on how the world should work.

I understand this, and am well aware that in ever so many cases, the way I feel about something is wrong.

With that said, let me tell you my dumb feelings about the way we should celebrate birthdays.

See, for some reason I still think that birthdays should be a big deal. Case in point, I’m very excited about turning 23 next month.

I still feel like the anniversary of one’s birth is an event to be celebrated. Is that so wrong?

My husband sure thinks so. He claims that I’m unreasonable for wanting an eventful birthday and that I just want everything to be like it was when I was 5 years old.

To that, I say, “So what?”

What is so wrong about wanting life to be a little more like what it was like when we were kids?

I can think of nothing more exciting than having a party at Gigglebees with cake and balloons and presents at which you can do whatever you want to do because, it’s your birthday, dammit!

And the presents would be those awesome fun things you used to get as a kid, like a Lite Brite or Play-Doh or Barbies, instead of the boring stuff you get as an adult, like Pulitzer Prize winning novels or money to pay the rent.

As a side note, I certainly do not shun the gift of money. I like it muchly. Donations are always welcome in my world.

Maybe it’s just that I miss the simplicity of youth, when the slightest event was something to get excited about. Birthdays were something to look forward to instead of something you dread. Playing ski-ball was the ultimate birthday activity, as opposed to now, when it seems the only way you can tell you’ve had a good birthday is if you can’t remember it the next day.

I think my husband just thinks I’m selfish and want a day where everyone celebrates my existence.

But if you think about it, with so many other problems in the world today, is a little Libby adoration so much to ask?

Reach the scattered mind of Libby Hill at libby51@hotmail.com.

Dear Libby,

My roommate is a complete neat freak and I am not. This makes it incredibly hard for us to get along.

At our apartment, luckily, we each have a bedroom. Mine is a pit, the way I like it, and his is immaculate, the way he likes it.

The problem is the shared living space. I would like to be able to leave some things in the kitchen, living room and bathroom that I feel I have a right to leave in these spaces, since they are half mine. However, anything short of the couch and the sink needs to be, in his mind, put away.

Do you think it’s unreasonable for me to want to leave my shoes by the door instead of in my room? And a magazine or newspaper on the coffee table? And a tube of toothpaste on the bathroom sink?

If so, let me know so I can change my ways. But if not, how do I make my roommate see that this is a normal, healthy way to live?

- Guest in my own home

Dear Guest,

So, Ben Folds, huh?

The news that one of my absolute favoritest small time musical artists would be performing in South Dakota for the first time , thanks to a local university made me very excited.

The fact that the university in question was not SDSU, but rather (ugh) Augustana, had me less than excited. Believe me, had I known 5 years ago that Augie would bring in such a great concert I would have thought a little harder about the the $32k they threw at me. But I digress …

What upsets me about this concert announcement is the fact that Augie doesn’t even have the facilities to appropriately feature an artist like Folds. No Performing Arts Center for them; they’re having it at the Washington Pavilion. Thus my question is this: why exactly didn’t we get an artist like Folds to perform here at SDSU? The beauty of an artist like him is the fact that even if interest is limited on campus, he has a cult following that would likely still cause the concert to pull in plenty of money.

***

Is it so wrong of me to feel bad about myself every time a beauty pageant rears it’s beautiful head? Ahem, excuse me, scholarship pageant. Personally, I think that most of my problem is the fact that no matter how much scholar I put on or how I get my scholar dyed or how fit and trim I look in my, um, scholarship, I’m never going to be scholarly enough to be in one of those pageants. And I’m pretty smart.

It really irks me since I have just as good a personality as the next person. Actually, that’s not true; just play along for the column’s sake.

While I’m sure I have very little room to gripe here, I think that in the future when I’m rich and crazy I’m going to start scholarship pageants for the fat and unattractive, in other words, for the average woman. Anyone have a problem with that? Because I feel that there are just as many talented and worthy people out there who deserve free stuff. And also, because I’ll be rich and crazy and because eccentricity is the spice of life. Well, mine at least.

***

In the March 8 edition of “Newsweek” Anna Quindlen wrote her column on the recent trends that equate liberals with those who don’t know and/or love Jesus.

As a moderate with liberal tendencies, I felt buoyed by Quindlen’s stand against those who view the world in only two categories: the “religious right” and the “irreligious left.” For me, it was about time that someone pointed out that one’s political beliefs do not necessarily brand them one way or another when it comes to the question of Christ.

It’s been a long year at my house, with letters coming into my husband and I accusing us of being everything from perverts to pagans, accusations that I gather (from Quindlan’s column) are not unusual in the world of journalism. I guess what I’m saying is that it’s nice to know that you’re not alone when you come under fire and that if you’re lucky, there’s going to be someone strong enough to say enough is enough.

Reach the scattered mind of Libby Hill at libby51@hotmail.com.

Dear Libby,

My boyfriend has invited me on a trip with him over spring break. The problem is, it would just be us two. OK, no, that’s not the problem. The problem is that my parents are concerned that it will just be us two.

The thing is, I’ve been sleeping with him for about 8 months now, but my parents live in the idealized world of the 1950s and assume that we’re waiting for marriage. We don’t live together so my parents assume that everything is PG or PG-13 at the very most between us.

So I’d love to go on this trip with him, but my parents think it’s a bad idea because of the situation that would be us two, alone in hotels.

Do I come clean and tell my parents that it’s too late to worry about that? Or do I just skip the trip and keep everything on the down low? Or take the trip and pretend that nothing happened?

Adding to the problem is that my parents are still helping to pay for my education. I don’t know if something like this would stop the cash flow or not, but I’d rather not risk it.

–Ready for some R&R

Dear Ready,

You have yourself quite the sticky situation here and I’ll try to advise the best I know how.

I have to say that in most cases I try to have an “honesty is the best policy” policy, though sometimes it’s necessary to tweak the sentiment a bit.

I think that it’s perfectly appropriate for you to address your parents fears and communicate to them that you are an adult and whatever happens, you’ve taken it into consideration, and are prepared for the consequences. However, that doesn’t necessarily mean that you have to specifically mention or even talk about the fact that you and your boyfriend have, on occasion, done the naked monkey dance, as sometimes there are things that parents would rather not know about.

I understand your concern about your parents reaction and think that it’s admirable that you’re worried about their reaction. Speaking to them relatively openly about their concerns lets them know that you still care what they have to say and think and will ultimately mean a lot to them.

In short, I think you deserve a break, Ready, and you and your boyfriend should go and enjoy a lovely and relaxing spring break.

Libby can help you, too! Send her a quick note: dearlibby@hotmail.com.

What if you threw a party and nobody came?

Such a philosophical query came to my mind Sunday night when Todd and I threw our annual Oscar party and, well, hardly anybody came.

Admittedly I was of two minds about the situation. For one thing, I’m never very comfortable being the hostess, as I’m always deathly afraid that our friends won’t “mix” or that people will see how Todd and I really live.

Thus, part of me was relatively relieved when only two people showed up, as I don’t espcially like most people, even my friends!

However, the other part of me was pretty peeved at the way my hubby and I were summarily blown off by an astounding number of our nearest and dearest. Considering the fact that we’ve thrown an Oscar bash for the last 4 years, I imagine most people saw it coming and could have penciled us in.

I guess I was mistaken.

To be fair, it’s not as though I haven’t flaked out on innumerable social gatherings in the past, but it just seems different this time around, since, you know, we’re leaving forever in two months.

Meh. Who needs ‘em.

Anyway, everything seemed to turn out for the best as a small gathering allowed me to shout obscenities at the screen in relative peace. For the most part, I found the ceremony itself to be rather dull, though I was pretty pleased with the overall turnout.

There are two important things to note about Sunday evening’s festivities, though. First off, the fact that I, for the second year running, won the Oscar pool, because (and I’m sure you don’t need to be told this) I am awesome.

The second thing is that I am completely and thoroughly sick of the Oscars and movies and all that craptacularness. I think it’s probably best that this hoopla only happens once a year, as one can only take so much Hollywood theatrical self-congratulations.

Said the theatre major.

Reach the vaguely disenchanted Libby Hill at libby51@hotmail.com.

As I sit down to write my column this evening I find myself not wanting to talk about this past week whatsoever, as it’s been what one might call, a phenomenally bad week.

So instead I’ve decided to share with you a horrifyingly embarrassing experience from my past in order to win friends and influence people. And I’m not even drunk. Yet.

Before I begin I suppose I’ll have to also reveal an additional quirk that I used to indulge in.

Though not a particularly politically correct habit, whenever I was alone in the public restroom in Pugsley Center I went ahead and used the larger stall because, well, to be honest, sitting on that toilet always made me feel like a princess. The reason behind that would be because when I sat on that toilet my feet didn’t touch the ground.

That said, I’ll continue my story: this one time, in the Pugsley Center ladies’ room, I was tinkling on the big potty, swinging my feet and humming to myself, when I decided I should slide back a little bit.

It was upon attempting this maneuver that things went terribly, terribly wrong.

I tried to scootch back on the toilet seat while not interrupting my flow, so to speak and then things got messy. In short, there was pee everywhere.

Now, I don’t quite understand the logistics of what took place, but what I do know is that my pants were rendered unwearable and I spent the rest of the evening draped in a blanket from my car, with no way to explain it without revealing my sticky story. Quite an embarrassing moment that I’ve now shared with all of you. Super.

You can reach the potty princess Libby Hill at libby51@hotmail.com.

Dear Libby,

My boyfriend is a photographer, which I think is really artsy and cool. The thing is he always wants to take pictures of me.

It makes me feel uncomfortable when he snaps shots of me. And I never know when he’ll do it — when I’m eating or laughing or even sleeping! Some of these pictures are not at all flattering and I don’t like him having them once they’re developed.

I’ve asked him to stop, but he says he loves me so much that I’m his favorite model and that I inspire his artistic creativity.

I dont’ know what to do. I don’t like being his live-in model but I want to support his passions and his future career. Is there anything I can do, short of selling all his photography equipment on E-Bay?

-In the Fishbowl,

Dear Fishbowl,

I have to say that the best solution in this situation is probably for you and your boyfriend to work out some basic guidelines.

First of all, you should feel very special that your boyfriend is so inspired by you. It appears that he’s found his muse in you and that’s a very rare thing.

For your boyfriend’s sake, Fishbowl, you should try and be more accepting to his capturing you on film. He loves you and loves taking pictures of you and you should appreciate that. But that doesn’t mean that he shouldn’t at least try and respect your wishes about when and where you’d like to be photographed.

I recommend, at least in the beginning, setting up some basic guidelines for taking pictures. Like only allowing him to photograph you when you’re wearing your makeup or only in natural light or only, you know, clothed.

I imagine that if he starts documenting you in ways that you feel more comfortable with, eventually you’ll be ok with more spontaneous photos if the mood strikes.

To finish up, Fishbowl, let me leave you with a parting thought: your boyfriend thinks you’re beautiful. Try to see that in yourself and in the photos he takes of you.

Dear Libby,

My girlfriend and I have been together for two years and I really love her. The thing is, she’s transferring to a school about a 10-hour drive from here.

My girlfriend says that she’s doing it to further her future career, not to get away from me, but she says she isn’t sure if she wants to do the long-distance relationship thing.

I think she’s “the one,” Libby. Do I chase her or do I need to let her chase her dreams alone?

-Ready to Run

Dear Ready,

If you love something, let it go and all that jazz … What it boils down to Ready, is that your girlfriend wants to leave and if you make her feel guilty about making a life decision that she feels confidant about, it’s not going to end well, it’s just going to end.

You said it yourself: her decision is about her career, not about you, and long-distance relationships are hard work and no one should blame her for not looking forward to something like that.

Tell her how you feel, but don’t pressure her. It’ll all work out for the best in the long run.

Libby is no professional, but she’s darn helpful. Try her at dearlibby@hotmail.com.