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A tragic scene will play out tonight at an off-campus frat house, as local brother Josh Williamson (Ψ ‘25) remains completely ignorant to the fact that his life satisfaction will peak at 2:23 am in a sweaty basement. Reports say that he’ll begin his night by getting excessively intoxicated, spending several hours jumping around to overplayed pop music. Several minutes before his peak, at 2:21, Williamson will meet his one and only soulmate, someone named Sophie or Samantha or Sandy or something like that (? ‘25). They’ll have the most amazing conversation that he’ll never forget before he proceeds to say something absolutely out-of-pocket in his drunken fugue, completely ruining his chances of ever getting with her.
Imagine you go on a date and the girl has choppy dyed purple hair and won’t shut the fuck up about liberal feminism. How would you feel?
Penn has selected Chinese philosopher of the Spring and Autumn Period, often considered the paragon of Chinese sages, Confucius, to serve as the University’s new provost, said President Magill.
One (singular) thought roamed the minds of all women at our school today.
Late last week, the Political Bureau of the Communist Party of China Central Committee released its annual ideological orthodoxy report, ranking Penn second. Penn was rated lower than Peking University but came ahead of other institutions such as Moscow State College, Kim Il-Sung University, and Columbia University.
I’ve been rather je ne sais pas as of late. Each morning, I find it hard to get out of my twin XL bed. I take the Rodin elevator at peak times just to feel something. One could say I’m in a rut. It’s rather hard to lead the life of a beautiful girl, let alone a Penn student. I go from class to class in a state of general disarray, feeling my sweet sweet life slip past me…
We the California girls make you folks on the East Coast look like potatoes, or so this is what you say about us California girls. As a California girl, I feel so far superior to all of you Wawa-lovers that I can't even look at you to ascertain whether you do in fact resemble a potato. The term "Wawa-lovers" hints at the fact that our superiority comes from our superior diet. My superior diet consists mainly of açaí bowls, which are unfortunately, scant in these parts. I have exhausted Playa Bowls (which I frequent after running 9 miles before my 10:15 AM in McNeil) and SoBol which I joke is just "so-so." I often ponder whether my superior education in the state of Pennsylvania is worth the slight demotion of my diet from abundant, local (the block I live on) juice cleanses to the monotony of only two (2) açaí spots with only forty (40) options per menu. Beyond pondering, I am always hunting (not to be confused with big-game hunting, I am a vegan who eats eggs and fish) for a new açaí spot to diversify my pallet. That's why I was thrilled to find what Penn students refer to as "SAE."
As I walk down Locust Walk, pretending I’m going to class, I see that there are multiple groups of what seems to be families touring campus. I make eye contact with a middle-aged asian couple, and their faithful son, presumably a high school junior. The parents' eyes and faces are expressionless, but I know what they are thinking: “if this bland Chinese boy can get into this school, then so can our son. He has no excuse.”
Now that the seasons have changed and your socks are wet because of the weather, not because of your own sweat and tears, you may be wondering how you can dry your soppy socks after a dreadful trundle down Locust Walk.
After a tumultuous day filled with family arguments, bickering, and long check-out lines, you’re finally settled into your shoebox of a Quad dorm room. Between sobs of bittersweet sentiments, your mom finally speaks her truth – she’s afraid you’ll never make any friends in college. And let’s be honest, she might be right! But need not fret, because you can flip the script with these 7 lies guaranteed to get you friends here at the University of Pennsylvania.
I wish I could just live even one day as a middle school girl in Shanghai again. Those were the best time, and those were the worst time. I did physics with my ex-boyfriend, his new girlfriend, his best friend (my new boyfriend). I went to Costa Coffee at 6:30 am and trained myself to drink Americano. After school I curated horrifying vibes (listening to The Darkest Day by Lana Del Rey and thinking harrowing thoughts) on my way home to read Lolita (Chinese translation). I lived the life of an ascetic in order to prepare for the High School Entrance Exam. I fancied myself a femcel version of Hermann Hesse.
We all know the fable of the boy who cried wolf. The durability of the tale reflects the durability of the philosophical archetype behind it. I am someone who fibs for aesthetic purposes. The signification system is all fine and good when I stay in jest mode: a tectonic structure of language that favors signifiers over signified. But it doesn’t stay that way. The system collapses when I want to arrive at the truth without having to pass through the convoluted maze of satirization. If I were to have a safe word for whenever I want to exit the facetious semiotics – and I’ve already picked the word (bipartisanship) – I would simply abuse the word to maximize the comedy. I have practically no defense against the disintegration of the truth-value. I have only myself to blame when my veracity is perceived by others as jest.
“Let’s grab lunch!” you exclaim to an acquaintance — with mutually understood faux-excitement — as you close out an awful 3 minute slog of “How are your classes?” “Where are you living this year?” and “You were in PennQuest, right?”
The University of Pennsylvania has become the first American university to hire several fighter pilots and launch an Air Force, as newly appointed President Liz Magill attempts to appease activists long demanding that Penn pay PILOTs (Payments in Lieu of Taxes) to the Philadelphia city government.
I (19 M) was hopping around a bit last weekend, function to function, you know how it is. The life of a super cool socially active Penn student isn’t easy, and sometimes being so in-demand by every fraternity gets exhausting. You may be wondering, “don’t all these parties get sort of repetitive?” And, let me tell you, they did, until last night.
i groweth melancholic, i beginneth to chant in rhyme
Do you remember Steve? Steve the guy with glasses and a Patagonia shirt and khaki pants and a smug grin on his face like he just snorted the HARDEST line before coming to TA CIS 160 class every Friday? Yeah, that Steve. Yeah I know he was soooooo smart. A little too smart. Like we get it. Like we get that you went to Andover and grew up in the Bay Area.
No, it’s not the Biolux™ Dentures – I’m smiling due to my joy!
This quiz will determine whether YOU get into heaven.
Ah, convocation. We all remember it, don’t we? The nostalgia of getting the e-vite that begins our careers at this wonderful university is a feeling that has loomed over every aging sell-out. What an absolute shame that the class of 2026 will not be experiencing said nostalgia, as the precious event they were totally underdressed for (I saw those pics y’all looked terrible) was rudely interrupted by individuals demanding the right to live.