When Roxy was young and innocent (there was a time, she swears), her foremothers used to croon sweet lullabies to her, just as she was falling asleep at night (this was back when Roxy used to sleep alone, you see). One of Roxy’s favorites went like this: “Cardinal is the color of passion and love/Blue is the color of a whale, or what most Cal girlfriends look like in lingerie.”

These days, not too much has changed, aside from the fact that whales are headed for extinction and Cal girlfriends are rarely seen outside of Pre-Business Association meetings. However, the obesity rate at Cal continues to far exceed that even of Texas, the fattest state in America, according to Roxy’s private research efforts. Roxy would certainly NOT tap that, especially given the fact that she wakes up every single morning to the full — and hopefully naked — glory that is Stanford.

Roxy hopes that by now, looking at all the relevant statistics, you’re already happy you chose Stanford. Because it really was a choice for us, right? We could have gone to Cal, it’s just . . . really, who would? Oh right, people who got rejectedfrom Stanford. To name just a few of the glaringly obvious advantages of attending Stanford, here are a few of Roxy’s favorites (she is not making these up):

Campus Acres: Stanford, 81,800; Cal, 1,232

Alumni recently on Supreme Court: Stanford, 20; Cal, 0

Number of NCAA titles: Stanford, 920; Cal, 25

But what about where it really matters? Do Stanford students similarly dominate the competition behind closed doors, away from the prying eyes of sexiled roommates? Of course they do, Roxy says.

Say accents are your fetish. What have they got at Cal? Is “SoCal” really an accent? Here at Stanford, we know the true meaning of diversity, with 12 percent of our student body coming (pun fully intended) from other countries. Spicy.

That diversity extends to what we’re willing to try between the sheets. In the words of Roxy’s foremothers, which forever echo in her heart, “Stanford’s sexual positons? Well, we call it the Farm for a reason. Doggie? Froggie? Millipede? Flamingo? Truly, it’s alright now.”

It’s no wonder we needed new security measures this year to keep the Berkeley frat boys out of FMOTQ. They always seem to think that by merely showing up on our campus, they have a chance at getting with someone decent-looking. But we always were a few hundred steps ahead of them, now weren’t we?

It’s almost as if the Admissions Office can sense it while they’re pouring over the essays and transcripts of thousands of hopefuls. There’s something about the accepted Stanford student that is just plain sexier. Because hey, if you can balance perfect grades, two varsity sports, an Eagle Scout project, the class presidency and summer trips to Europe, you must also be able to multi-task and time-manage your way to a little nookie now and then.

Clearly the rejects, most of whom seem to end up at Cal, spent too much time studying pointlessly for the SAT (which you just about aced on the first try) and popping the twinkies. Brain food, right? Wrong. And don’t think our Admissions Office doesn’t know that. Roxy wouldn’t be surprised to learn that they have fantastic sex lives in comparison to what’s going on in Cheney Unit One on a Saturday night. Even our dorm names have more sex appeal.

Alright, enough of the ego-stroking. Find something else to stroke tonight. You’re making Stanford (and Roxy) proud.