One of the best things about writing this weekly column is all the feedback I get from… One of the best things about writing this weekly column is all the feedback I get from readers.

Occasionally, it’s a quick “good job” from a satisfied customer. More often than not it’s someone I have unintentionally offended calling me an unfunny, untalented, anti-Semitic – really? – fascist hack. Other times, they’re even mean. But my favorite kind of response, other than the 18 e-mails I received in one day from a pro-sled dog interest group for mentioning the word “Iditarod,” is suggestions for future pieces.

Believe it or not, I love it when people tell me what I should write about.

Not only does it make my job easier, it gives me an idea of what students actually want to read about. The only problem is, I can’t always use them all. They may be too short, too complicated or too illegal.

Usually, I just simply forget. And when the people who graciously took the time to care about my work see that I “ignored” their suggestions and wrote about something else, they take it personally.

I hate to disappoint. I have few allies to begin with, so I’m not exactly in any position to start burning bridges. So, I’ve decided to dedicate this column to some of the best suggestions I’ve ever gotten that never before made it in the paper.

Sometimes they are disgusting, like my friend’s theory on the futility of toilet paper.

Sometimes they are self-incriminating, like my former roommates’ many calls to write about our sophomore year’s Klepto Binge Night, a subtly named ritual in which we used the beautiful city of Pittsburgh as our own personal Ikea.

Sometimes the ideas are serious, like a group of girls finding a family of cockroaches inside their dorm. Sometimes they are funny, like those same girls, after their complaints were not taken seriously, taking said critters down to the authorities in a box and telling them to deal with it. Or, if they are from members of my family, the suggestions usually consist of “Write about me!”

One of the best suggestions I have ever gotten was a social theory a friend and I came up with, namely “The Reverse Wingman.”

Everybody knows about the traditional wingman, the kindly friend who goes to great lengths to assist his buddy in picking up women.

Our idea, however, had a twist. One day, while he was trying to impress a certain girl before class started, I showed up with a sloppy buffalo chicken salad sandwich.

Trying to finish it before the professor arrived, I accidentally spilled chicken salad on the floor and my shirt.

After a few weeks of similar situations, my friend began dating this girl.

Both of them attributed this to me making my friend look very, very good in comparison, and a new way to help your buddy find girls was born.

I had aided my friend by seeming pathetic, though I didn’t even realize I was doing it at the time. Unfortunately, I didn’t think I could get a whole column out of this idea. And it makes me look like an idiot. Oh well.

Probably the strangest suggestion I ever got was the idea now infamously known as the “Baby House.”

The Baby House is the inebriated brainchild of my friend who is unhappy to see people move away after graduation. To prevent this, she decided that we should all pitch in to buy a house in Oakland. Once we all settled in, we are all supposed to join in an enormous baby-making celebration.

Nine months later, with all the babies running around the house and all of us unable to definitively say which one belongs to which father, we would all be forced to stay in Pittsburgh, at least for the next 18 years.

It’s an interesting idea, if not also a misguided one. With recent breakthroughs in technology and communication, there are probably easier ways to stay in touch than producing illegitimate children.

Needless to say, I decided that I couldn’t do this to my readers, or my parents’ mental health.

Some suggestions I need to flat out reject. Trust me – you’d thank me if you only knew. If not, you’d be reading full columns titled, “Light or dark beer,” and “The Steelers are really, really awesome.”

This is what happens when people try to come up with column ideas for me at a party at 2 a.m. I appreciate the effort, guys, but no thanks.

But even when I don’t use the ideas, I am still grateful for the input.

I mean, at least that means somebody is reading. And, in the dying business of print journalism, that’s all you can really ask for.

E-mail Sam at [email protected] with more suggestions for future columns.