Let’s face it, February is usually a lousy month. We’ve already put up with two or three months of cold and snow. We’re sick of being inside all the time, and we’re ready for spring. But then February comes around, and we start the whole month off by having some groundhog remind us that there’s still plenty of winter left to come.

So for another month, we are usually stuck inside because of the cold and snow. I know this sounds stupid since it was 60 degrees yesterday, but the person in charge of February is just trying to prove me wrong. If I hadn’t written that I guarantee you’d still be trying to dig your car out of the snow

But snow or no snow, I’m still stuck in my house. Apparently all of the melted snow in Ames has joined forces in forming a giant quagmire that has surrounded our house and is holding my car hostage. This quagmire has not yet made a formal list of demands, but our lease strictly forbids from negotiating with terrorists, so this situation could get ugly.

Regardless of the weather, February is also home to the lousy holidays of Valentine’s Day and President’s Day, a day when we honor our nations great leaders (and lousy ones too) by giving the mailmen the day off so they can sit their living rooms and laugh at us on our way to class.

The point here is that February bites. If it were my choice, we’d get rid of February all together. In fact, sometimes I think people had it made back before the calendar was invented and they just told time by the seasons.

When it was hot, it was summer. When the leaves were turning, it was fall. When their car was towed for parking on the south side of a street during a snow emergency, it was winter. And when the Chicago Cubs were eliminated from the playoff race, it was spring.

Unfortunately somebody, most likely a woman, was unsatisfied with this simplistic method of time keeping. She wanted every day of the year to be numbered so that she could be showered with gifts each year on her birthday and anniversary. Her husband, of course, didn’t care and forgot all of these “important” days immediately. To this day, men continue to carry on this proud tradition.

But numbering the days was here to stay, and calendars marking the 365 day-year were quickly put into production. These calendars had to be printed on large, poster-size sheets of paper in order to fit every day on one page.

Not everyone was pleased with this early calendar design, especially the powerful Big Breasted Women in Small Bikinis Union. They were upset that this design left little or no room for pictures of scantily clad women, an essential part of keeping time. The Bikini Union was pushing to redesign the calendar so that it split the year into 12 separate months. Each month could then be printed on its own page and be accompanied by a provocative picture of a Bikini Union member.

Not surprisingly, the Emperor (a man) who was in charge of these matters (and all other matters) was easily convinced of this new design. He proclaimed such a calendar was so great that it deserved a special place of prominence in every home and thus the garage was invented.

But first he had to gather his elders to help him divide up the year and name each month. Once they had gathered, they quickly got to work on their primary task: drinking massive quantities of alcohol. Once they were sufficiently wasted they got to work on their secondary task: dividing the year into 12 months, each containing an equal number of days.

Due to the successful completion of their primary task, the elders found the division more complicated that usual. Thus, the number of days in each month varied between 30 and 31 and one month was given the shaft and only got 28 days.

Fortunately, that month was February. Thanks to this meeting, February was short, the lawmakers were drunk and every month people were rewarded with a new picture of a model in a swimsuit. All was right in the world.

This utopian society lasted nearly four years, until March 1 in the year 4, the Emperor’s 50th birthday. This was not a good day for the Emperor as he had to put up with countless over-the-hill jokes in addition to receiving his first annual prostate exam on his birthday check-up.

This prostate exam was not a pleasant experience for Mr. Emperor, but his doctor insisted that men over 50 have their prostate examined every year.

Not wanting to disobey the doctor’s orders, but still wanting to avoid as many prostate exams as possible, the Emperor had few options. He immediately proclaimed that every four years an extra day would be added to the month of February as a special day to celebrate his birthday.

This allowed him to age slower and only have prostate exams every four years. This is also how the name “leap” year was coined.

So that’s the story of why we have to put up with 29 days of February this month.

I know it sucks that you have to go to an extra day of class this month, but I guess that’s better than getting your prostate examined.

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Peter Borchers is a senior in advertising from Bloomington, Minn. He always paid close attention in history class.