Stop Asking Me About Voting It’s Been 3 Years How Do You Not Know I’m Not American Please Stop
(04/29/24 11:00pm)
I AM NOT AMERICAN!
Below are your search results. You can also try a Basic Search.
I AM NOT AMERICAN!
Every year, I look forward to the month of Ramadan. Iftars, suhoors, and melodramatic Arab TV shows. Ah, what a joyous time of the year! Coincidentally, and in our contemporary moment, it also aligns with the release of UTB’s Joke Issue.
There are many reasons for one to begin their fitness journey. I, for one, started because I wanted to join my high school’s basketball team despite being 5,3. Guess what, it worked! But enough about me. The elephant in the room is the Penn Barbell Club — ranked the second most exclusive club at Penn after UTB. I’d like to know each of their individual reasons behind starting in the gym: Fame? Fortune? Forinication? Perhaps there was nothing to do but that.
I. Am. Shaking. I am enchained within my tower (studio room with my cat) due to the horrific events of Monday, February 26th 2024. A fever of 38.7c —sorry idk what it is in fahrenheit-– plagues me, my chest tightens with every breath, and this curse grows stronger with each passing step that Amy Wax takes in Penn Carey Law. I fell victim to her, for I was the one who took this picture of her strolling through the building casually with her protection charms all around her neck.
There’s a myth, nay, a rumor, circulating around the office. A misconception that this publication needs to take itself seriously. What the fuck!
First Encounter:
There’s certain social obligations that one must fulfill in this University. For example, one should avoid controversy. Ted (audience engagement manager of UTB) disagrees with this. I (UTB MLM) do as well.
1. THIS IS FACETIOUS I PROMISE THIS IS IN JEST THIS IS FROLICSOME ALL IS WELL
There's not much to be said here. Huntsman kinda looks like the panopticon, at least to me --- and my opinion matters much more than anyone who was involved in designing that building.
To whom it may concern, staff of Wilcaf, and otherwise:
How to navigate one’s headspace? We ask this question because we seriously don’t know why this lady did what she did. If we were to describe this lady we would say: petite wasian queen. This matters because her mannerisms and tonality pertained to her identity and we love wasian people. What is the motif behind an elderly woman with a kind voice approaching us as we merge with the biopond? What is the motif of us telling her to go away? We attempted this endeavor to no avail because she took a picture across the pond that revealed our state of mind, intriguing because we never got her state of mind in turn; what becomes of us now that we know that she knows us better than we do her? In our time with her, she told us the last time she was at Penn was 1982. Wow! We said. And then silence.
Here is a list of dos and don'ts:
Preface: I live off-campus in a comfortable building with central AC / heating and electric stoves, but this is still of utmost concern to me. This is because I lived in Harnwell (22nd floor) last year, so I feel I still have the right to comment on this. I loved it so much when I had to, like, go to the right turnstile instead of the left one because the left one was eternally broken. Eternally blocked by a chair, sometimes plastic and other times not. I think it was a metaphor for my sophomore year.
There comes a special time in one’s life, and that time is the illustrious fraternity/sorority date night. You’re 19 and on fire, you’re desirable, you’re powerful, you go girl! Rush went sooooo well. You met some amazing people (and that Bitch Caitlyn too ig) but you know the end is nigh if you bring a boring guy to the most important event of your life: your date night. Beautiful, chic, modern women never struggle with this, though, and neither did this nondescript sorority girl. She knew she needed to take action before turning 20 and dealing with the death of her teens and losing the currency of her youth. She already had someone in mind, it was her prerogative.
There’s a deal that I made to get into this club. I will not be saying anything that I cannot say, but the truth just has to come out someday. Today is that day.
The other day, I walked behind our beloved president Liz Magill. Her blonde hair shone as always, and she was quite poised. I had but one thought: “Wow! Her perfume’s so nice I can smell it standing 8 feet away from her." Maybe with enough money and alumni donations, I too will command the wind to carry my signature scent (Prada Paradoxe) all over locust.
Are we the root of the problem? Do we, as students, not appreciate the effort it takes for these professors to read the material they assign to us and read to us what we already know? The answer is yes, but with a twist. You’re the problem. Not me! I’m fine, and so are my sweet and beau co-writers at this publication. You’re the issue though, and you should really stop blaming others for it, it's not so chic…
The truth behind rushing is that it’s not a personal experience meant to introduce the current members to your sorry soul. It’s actually a lot like consulting recruiting! Everyone wants to see you regurgitate some menial information regarding them to ensure your commitment to the upcoming dues that will surprise-bleed your pockets. However, dear loser (note to editor: change this to reader), we have provided a jargon et. al list that is sure to ease your rushing experience. After all, there’s nothing better than easy admissions – ask the test-optional kids!
Contrary to what my creative writing professor and ex-seminar classmates may think, I actually totally understand the feminine gaze and women’s mindsets and am totally never misogynistic.
I am writing this a day before the holy month of Ramadan, and although this article may be untimely, I shall tackle a rather important issue we have here at Penn. Far too many days have gone by with me overhearing “I’m gonna get halal” or being asked “Should we get halal for lunch” or straight up being asked “Could I get chicken over rice with only white sauce” (the last statement being made by crackers who can’t handle the ‘red’ sauce and somehow think I’m a halal food truck worker). Anyways, I pose two important questions here: