And you never will.

You’re going to get fatter.



More repulsive, every day.

You’re going to look just like the dumpy, middle-aged people you hold in such contempt.

And there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.

But maybe there is.

Last weekend, residential colleges and floor-mates came together, students were drunk off the excitement of competition and everyone was outside on the Yaron fields playing sports till they dropped.

Sportsfest, the annual intramural extravaganza, took over UM from Friday night until Sunday afternoon.

Students were called to participate in everything from dodge ball to Dance Dance Revolution.

Raunchy team names complimented raucous cheering, and students donned team shirts, headbands and even face paint as they tried to out-swim, out-bat and out-run their opponents.

It was a pretty sharp contrast from a typical weekend at UM: sunburnt pool-goers turn into late-night drunks; mornings are slept away; solitary exercise machines never stop churning under the soul-sucking lights of the gym in futile attempt to burn off the calories from gallons of beer downed the night before.

But too many students could not find it in themselves to break from their typical weekend despondency and get out to play. Out of over 4,000 undergraduates who live on campus, only half took part in the weekend’s festivities. Dry rush ended on Friday, and parties took over frat row. A new club opened on South Beach and called to students with no cover charge. And lets not forget the lamest, most clich