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We've all been there. Your middle school class loads into a yellow bus and drives for hours through the exurbs. Then suddenly, a warehouse decked out in faux masonry with two towers emerges from the middle of the industrial park. It's Medieval Times, of course!
August 27th, 2022. NSO. Me and the loose collection of gentlemen I found in a Quad lounge enter Commons for the first time. The food smells delicious. We feel a profound thankfulness for the privilege of dining here for the next nine months. Taking our seats, we discuss our ratio for the evening. Is it better to go to a party with thirteen guys and zero girls or thirteen guys and one girl? At least you can pass off the first option as a guys’ night, right? The second is just an admission of complete and utter failure.
My friends say I am a “straight chiller," but this was perhaps the biggest test of my lifetime. I know the truth. It might be a hard pill to swallow...but I’m willing to. I know their motives. I know it all.
I hate to say it, but this preprofessional environment is really starting to get to me. I sit here scrolling through LinkedIn, looking at these suckers posting their corporate internships for biotech startups and some sort of finance thingy. Meanwhile, I’m sitting here skipping the John Smith Interlude of the new Lana Del Rey album because that’s the sort of priorities I have. Should I be trying something different?
An advice column about love, life, and rock n’ roll, run by two of the sveltest broads in all of Pennsylvania. To make you more comfortable in this space, we’d like to introduce ourselves. We are Maya Kreger and Carey Salvin, both self-declared role models and the least self-indulgent people you’ll ever meet. In the end, we’re just two girls hoping to spread goodwill with our life-changing and fully ideated ideas. We are here to answer your questions, no matter how outlandish or simplistic they might be. You're welcome! If you have any issues that require our assistance, fret not and submit your questions here.
According to a recent study by the Wharton Marketing department, frequent marijuana use can set you back from your bikini body. As a self-educated health and wellness guru, here are some methods to ensure you end the week with what looks like the beginning of a summer glow:
As a shy girl who consistently correlates her naive courteousness with having “southern charm,” I have mastered the art of avoiding catastrophe while remaining composed and kind. It is difficult to remain this way though in Philadelphia where the people move quickly and the vehicles move even quicker. Some may say the drivers are reckless but I say the pedestrian is equally complacent in crosswalk accidents. There is no reason to be aggressive when trying to communicate with impeding drivers. Here are some passive alternatives that are equally effective in preventing collisions:
Ugh. Just UGH!
Damn, it’s like really nice out. But the weather app says 50% chance of rain, low of 59 Celsius high 78 Celsius for tomorrow. What should I wear?
Beep boop beep boop.
April means that a lucky batch of 2,400 seventeen-year-olds and a few degenerate twenty-odd-year-olds will commit to attending Penn this fall as part of the class of 2027. In President Liz Magill's words, this is set to be one of Penn's most diverse classes, with students from 49 states and 5 countries.
I sat at my laptop on a rainy spring night
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:
March 18th, 2023 began like any normal St Patty’s Day. Breathalyzers read 0.5 when exposed to the open air. Darties were beginning and getting shut down in the same exact millisecond. Eagles jerseys emerged from their drawers for the first time since Patrick Mabitchmotherfucker cheated the Birds out of the Superbowl. Life was as it should be.
Check it out. The building behind the former Mcdonald’s is actually sort of pretty, somehow. And the side of the Radian is surprising, in a comforting way, with all its angles and such. I think I’m starting to like it here.
BIRMINGHAM, AL – For just the third time in March Madness history, a 15 seed has made it to the sweet sixteen. Princeton took down the University of Arizona, who many projected to win the national title, before handedly defeating another formidable opponent in the University of Missouri. Next up is a tough, but not clearly not impossible, game versus Creighton in Louisville. Jokes aside for a second, let’s tip our cap to our neighbors to the Northeast. My roommate is from Princeton, and I usually take NJ Transit to New York out of Princeton Junction, so this one hits close to home for me. I am proud, I am in awe, and I am above all else happy. Those games were electric.
With dried sweat caked to my body and dirt under my fingernails, I awoke on the steps of a massive building. My mind was numb. I had little recollection of the day before, and certainly no idea how I had ended up here. Barely managing to pull myself off of the ground, I rose to survey my surroundings. There was a river nearby, lined on the bank nearest me with trees, grass, and park benches. A long, wide, empty boulevard separated me from the river. In the other direction, I could only see the massive compound of stone structures to which the steps I stood on led. I reckoned that the rest of this small-seeming city lay beyond, but I could not be sure. Since waking, I had not seen a soul. I had not heard a thing other than the wind in the trees and the soft flowing of the river. It seemed that no one was here. Then things started to click. I must be in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.
UNIVERSITY CITY, PHILADELPHIA - Days before the start of Spring Break, neighborhood philanthropist and avid patron of the arts Kelly Writer was reaching a breaking point. Nearly thirty years ago, she opened her doors to the many brooding souls of Penn who needed a place to drink tea, write poetry, and wear turtlenecks and stuff. Now, her home was becoming overwhelmingly sad and boring. Where once the upandcoming spirit of artistic innovation permeated the air, the house now smelled like leftover halal and vape juice. Kelly began to consider the idea that her project was nearing an end.
A fenceless locust? A good Commons meal? That one off campus date night and the other on campus one? Yeah, none of these events truly unfolded. I’ve been rather observant recently. Its a wonder, actually, the unchanging nature of things around us. When was the last time you weren’t preparing for, taking, or recovering from a midterm? When is the last time you read a piece of UTB’s that did not leave you joyous/existential? None of the aforementioned events had ever happened.
Step into your imagination. Take a journey with me. You’re eating your chicken-and-rice bowl outside of McClelland. It’s delicious. The exotic blend of sauces are reminiscent of the majesty of the Silk Road, so much so that your mind is transported there. You see spice traders filtering in and out of the bazaar. Wait, there’s Marco Polo! Oh, and there’s a horde of Mongols under the command of the ferocious Ghengis Khan!