Most of you are probably familiar with the craze that is Apples to Apples, a board game of intelligent, ironic and downright outrageous comparisons of famous people, places and events. It’s got to be the only game I know that can range from intelligent deliberation over politicians and war, to a sarcastic smackdown between your favorite heroes and cities, to a that’s-so-wrong-it’s-funny game (which usually involves the Helen Keller card).

Apples to Apples requires three or more people to play, and includes two giant decks of word cards. Each person keeps five red apple cards, or noun cards, in their hand. On your turn, you draw a green apple card, or adjective card, and show it to everyone, so that they can each pick a noun card from their hand that they think best applies to the adjective, literally, humorously or otherwise. You shuffle the noun cards and then read them out, picking the best fit for your adjective card. The person who put that card down reveals himself, earning a point and keeping your adjective card as a trophy.

The game’s definitely a hoot, but many of us aren’t all that informed or opinionated about every single celebrity, historical figure and event in the deck. It’s safe to say that we’d rather be giggling and guffawing over our own experiences at Stanford, and the famous and infamous people and places on campus. Besides, the limited number of write-in-your-own cards in Apples to Apples can’t possibly accommodate the vast numbers of hilarious comparisons and analyses we can make about the things around us at Stanford.

So instead, let’s imagine a game called Trees to Trees (for lack of a more catchy plant word associated with Stanford), a Stanford version of Apples to Apples. So it’s your turn, and for your adjective, you draw the infamous “Awkward” card, one of the most overused but just-so-useful college-isms in your vocabulary. Your friends put down their noun cards and you read them aloud one by one: “Black Squirrels.” They’re pretty creepy. “Random Facebook Friend Requests.” People who claim they know you, or just are lonely and want attention, are definitely awkward. “The Roundabout.” Getting in near bike accidents with people who go the wrong way, and the forced apologies that follow, sure can be awkward. But the last card, “dormcest,” is by far the most awkward.

The next person gets the card “Disgusting,” and has to choose between “shared bathrooms,” “IHUM kids,” “OSA policies” and “dining hall leftovers.” While those bathrooms can get pretty bad during the weekend, what with parties and absence of cleaning staff, dining hall leftovers take the prize: that chicken and those mixed vegetables were definitely yesterday’s entrees, and the dinner soup’s been sitting in the warmer since lunch!

The next player draws the “Sketchy” card — another trademark college-ism — and has to choose between “Dance instructors,” “grad students,” “housing inspectors” and “frat boys.” Frat boys have a certain reputation, but grad students just helplessly, naturally exude sketchiness with their mere presence at undergrad parties. Especially when they tell you their age.

And then someone draws “Dirty,” and has to decide whether “earth science majors,” “Full Moon on the Quad,” “co-ops,” or “Roxy Sass” best fit the mold. Dear old Roxy transcends dirtiness in every sense of the word, and earth science majors are a bit too literal to be an entertaining choice, so it’s between co-ops and FMOTQ. Co-ops may be filled with archetypal hippies, but at least they take showers and wash their dishes like any other dorms, so let’s go with Full Moon, which is just out of this world.

The guy next to you gets “sexy” as his adjective, and is offered “Dean Julie,” “Exotic Erotic,” “good grammar,” and “RAs.” As sexy as most of your RAs are, it’s not a good idea to tempt them with seductive compliments, and Exotic Erotic is so, well, exotic and erotic that ‘sexy’ just doesn’t fit it. Good grammar is hot, especially if you extend sexy to just mean “aesthetically pleasing,” but ultimately, I think we all love Dean Julie and her motivational speeches and class-year calls enough (as well as putting up with “show us your tits!” during Gaieties 2006) to give her the ‘sexy’ award.

It’s your turn again, and you get to pick who or what is the most “proud.” How endearing. Your friends make you choose between “freshmen,” “the Band,” “your parents,” and “Admit Weekend.” Admit Weekend is pretty insane, what with bright-eyed ProFros and the all-too-rare dorm cheer coming from a crowd of 100-plus people. Freshmen and the Band also have their particular ways of expressing their Stanford pride, but hopefully in your case, it’s your parents that are the most proud of you and of Stanford (especially when you get that high-paying career that’ll supplement their retirement plans).

I bet you’re just dying to hear more combinations and comparisons, and eager to make these nerve-wracking decisions on your own. What other game would provide an outlet for your school pride, sorrow (for the association of “the CoHo” with “missed”), and frustration towards IHUM and dining halls that you’ve been keeping in since freshman year? Someone better come up with a real-life version of Trees to Trees — hopefully with a more inventive name — you could make a fortune.