There are some things in life that, no matter how drunk/high/dumb you are, will always seem ridiculous. Like, say, every piece of clothing manufactured during the ’80s. Or that horrifying Coke-coffee hybrid they’re selling at Norris. Or – this one’s for you, Mo’Nique – the movie Phat Girlz.

Indeed, we college folk have witnessed some pretty freaky faux pas over the years, and I’m guessing that, as we mature, they’re only going to get freakier.

But suppose it didn’t have to be that way. What if, instead of reveling in these cultural pratfalls, we lured them into an Asian restaurant, ordered a reasonable amount of sushi, and chopstick’d them into oblivion? (Trust me, this totally worked in Rush Hour 2.)

In that vein, I’d like to formally condemn the “fiesta sombrero.”

Allow me to explain. Last Friday – which, for all of you who are, like, culturally retarded, was Cinco de Mayo – I observed something of a margarita-induced apocalypse: Everywhere I went, otherwise-fashionable Northwestern students were donning big, floppy straw hats.

Some of them bore company logos, like “Tecante” or “Corona.” Others featured really, really clever phrases, like “Drinko de Mayo” or “I’m wasted.” And a few, like mine, were just plastic, sombrero-looking chips ‘n’ salsa platters that, believe it or not, won’t stay on your head for more than 15 seconds.

Call me hypocritical, but I think these so-called “Mexican hats” are – hold up, shit’s about to get bilingual – loco.

Sombreros, when they’re not, say, shielding your face from the blazing sun, are highly impractical. They’re bulky, they’re itchy, and, as if that’s not annoying enough, they’re always in the way when you’re (sloppily) trying to make out.

Yet, in almost every bar, at almost every party, some drunken fiesta-goer busts out her self-proclaimed “happy hat” and starts swinging at a pi