My first two years at Boston University were fairly typical: Good classes, friends, laughs, embarrassing moments, parties, movies, video games, papers, good professors, bad professors, girls, hours spent Internet surfing and more combined for a two-year blur that reeked of awesomeness, exhaustion and other unmentionables.

Little did I know that — among all the laughs and stories — between classes and video games, I would befriend the current Boston University Student Union President Brooke Feldman.

I’m not going to bore you with the story of how Brooke and I became friends. Nor will I titillate you with her dirty gossip or her annoying and quirky habits (of which there are many).

Instead, I want all the cynics who, last year, worried that Brooke’s ideas for the Union lacked substance to rest assured that I fully intend on using my friendship with Brooke to induce the changes as I see fit.

And frankly, I see fit to induce a lot of change. I’m not looking for anything big, dramatic or outrageously costly, just a number of minor changes that will enhance the BU experience for all of its students.

The time has come for BU to apply $25 from everyone’s tuition toward its students’ comfort, satisfaction and beauty. The students and faculty need, nay, demand, that BU purchase double-quilted toilet paper. BU dormitories, classrooms and various other facilities are stocked with rough, insensitive, chafing one-layered toilet paper.

I think I speak for all BU students when I demand the soft, plush, strong-yet-sensitive double-quilted toilet paper our tooshies deserve.

For those who think double quilted toilet paper is unnecessary and extraneous, I share with you this anecdote.

As a sophomore living in the 575 Commonwealth Ave., my bathroom was well stocked with double-quilted TP, and I dare say that my bathroom was the most popular in the entire dormitory. People visited just for the tooshie treat, and they left satisfied and happy.

“Be careful! You could poke an eye out!” This famous credo is responsible for most people in the world who still have their eyes. Yet despite the proven legitimacy of this renowned warning, it appears that most BU students have chosen to ignore their mothers’ words.

Whether caught in a downpour or unusually strong mist, BU students quickly don their canopy-shaped umbrellas. Unfortunately, the popular anti-rain defense quickly turns dangerous on the narrow sidewalks of Commonwealth Avenue.

Many BU students are short. Worse yet, they don’t understand the mechanics of being short. When short BU students open their tent-sized umbrellas, they fail to realize that sharp metal prongs, which protrude from eight different points, are at the eye level of the “normal-height” students.

We “normal-height” students have learned the hard way, walking on Commonwealth Avenue when there’s a chance of rain is like walking through a metal cactus patch. I have bruises and scratches on my face to prove it.

Soon, BU must address this issue. It’s the prerogative of BU administrators to protect its students any way deemed necessary, popular or not. I suggest an official BU umbrella with soft, blunt edges and a reasonable circumference. Each year upon arrival to campus, every student should receive a new BU umbrella and thereafter be fined every time a different brand is used.

BU is not a democracy and its students should not have the right to use umbrellas that are potentially dangerous and even lethal.

I can’t promise that any of my wishes will come to fruition. I can’t even promise that I will do all I can to bring them to fruition. All I can promise is that I will use every ounce of Jewish guilt in my body to convince Brooke Feldman to make BU a better place in the ways that I see fit.