UTB Extends Their Spring Stay (with DMT!)
(03/24/21 1:56am)
UTB gets creative with their drug use to expand their Spring Stay.
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UTB gets creative with their drug use to expand their Spring Stay.
In in the age of the coronavirus pandemic, many of our favorite restaurants and dining halls have been closed, forcing us to cook our own meals. The entire process of choosing meals, going to ACME, and then actually preparing and cooking them is spiritually and emotionally draining. It’s so difficult, in fact, that we’ve compiled a list of things that are easier than meal-prepping for one.
Chad F. Daniels
Friendship. Laughter. College. Salad. Memories. Booths. Almost ripe fruit. Long lines for pasta.
What is that succulent scent wafting through the hallowed halls of Harnwell? God damn it. Is that steak au poivre? Damn it! That’s unmistakable. That guy across the hallway is making steak for the fifth time this week. Every single night, man. Every single night I go to sleep with that distinctive smell on my nostrils, and every single night I have this recurring dream: my eyes open, I find myself adjacent to a Parisian boulevard, sipping a fine apéritif, mulling it over in anticipation of my first bite into the heralded main course: a feast truly fit for a king, savory motes of bovine flesh floating over the undertones of a fine peppercorn crust, an oasis for my impoverished taste buds; I watch the sun glide past the abutments of the Arc de Triomphe, descending, lightly, as if pulled by string, through the glowing peephole that is my imagination. But as dawn breaks, the only solace to my deep-set carnivorous desires is the tough, economically-calculated gristle of a Big Mac. Dear Lord! How did it come to this? Christ, how did it come to this? I’m literally sitting here, a captive in my own dorm, as that kid across the aisle is living it up with his haute cuisine and sous vide, while I have to scrounge up whatever I can from last night’s McDonald’s misadventure. How excellent! I feel nauseous. Oh, sorry — I meant to say I feel nauseated — ah, there it is! There it is again. The smell of simmered heavy cream, delicate cognac, added salt to taste! An experience so Sisypheanously out of my reach, through barriers of drywall, across the cool expanse, aromatic particulate crossing the gap between rooms, infiltrating my olfactory factory, electrical impulses triggering, scattering electromotive forces like billiards, hardy neurotransmitters crossing the gaps between cell bodies, these signals of decadence finally achieving a perfect quincunx at my mind’s eye! Holy moly guacamole, I need that steak! I’m slobbering like mad over here: awooooooga! Somebody throw me a bone, preferably one with some damn meat on it! What will it cost? (A steep price, I’m sure of it.) When will it end? (No time in the foreseeable future.) How can I still smell that damn steak days after it’s already been devoured, savored, enjoyed, relished, and fancied? (The window is broken; it can’t be opened.) Why does it persist into my dreams, and why does it persist into my nightmares? (The A/C is broken; air can’t be circulated.) Why has it come to define my life? (The lights in the dorm are broken; nothing can be seen.) Yes, yes, an infernal dance for the culinarily snubbed seems fitting. Doesn’t it? (It does.) It’s settled then. I’ll do it while my limbs still wield the potential for movement! I’ll do it as the days turn to years! I’ll do it so long as my tongue still hungers for the taste of life! I will dance! Dance, you tragic clown, dance!
Even before he came to Penn, Leon Jefferson (N ‘24) was a huge self-described foodie. But when he arrived in Philadelphia for the first time, he wasn’t sure if he would be able to maintain his passion for enjoying and photographing the culinary arts. After all, most college dining halls don’t exactly have the best reputation. But much to Jefferson’s surprise, he found that Penn more than delivered on its promise for high-quality food on campus. He found that 1920 Commons, the flagship enterprise of Penn Dining and Bon Appétit, exceeded all expectations and is, in fact, the culmination of human culinary achievement.
Penn can be a scary and confusing place to navigate. But don’t worry! To help students turn the challenges of Penn into opportunities for growth, we at UTB have discovered the easiest tips and tricks to success!
With the impending opening of New College House West, Penn Residential Services has decided to rename the Quad to “Prehistoric College House South.”
Tragic! An exclusive interview with architect Joseph Redd went horribly awry last Tuesday after he came to the realization that his buildings were, indeed, still standing.
Welcome to Ego of the Weak, our weekly segment here at Under the Button where we interview members of the most morally reprehensible, unnecessary, and borderline psychotic clubs on this pathetic campus. For this week’s installment, we’re sitting down with Under the Button (talking to ourselves), to reflect on the error of our ways.
It must be said. People on the second floor of Panera Bread on 40th and Walnut, please stop staring at me.
Fiona Qu (E '23) is the total package! She’s hot, witty, nice, and she consistently produces top-notch stories and essays to submit to the creative writing workshop that you’re in together. Last week she turned in a gut-wrenching personal essay about the semantics of pears and separation. The week before last week she did a scintillating retelling of Grimm’s fairytale set in modern-day Israel. Just last night, she emailed the class with a capitalist diaspora semi-autobiographical second-person manifesto disguised in an ostensibly mundane story regarding intimacy and premature ejaculation. Not to mention that she always beat the deadline by at least 24 hours.
With Penn’s fraternities and sororities continuing on as normal, members of the West Philadelphia community are outraged by their apparent disregard for the community at large, and rightfully so.
Hey besties!
Zoom has finally released the one feature we have all been dying for, “Anti-Pin.” For some reason, it always seems like the one stuck up bitch you hate is the only person in your class with their camera on. You get to watch them basically the whole class with no way to hide them from your screen. Some have gotten so desperate they have to use a post it note to cover the ugliness up. Does the bitch keep their camera on just to ruin your day?
Jared felt a strange sense of admiration mixed with a sharp pang of jealousy towards the Du Bois COVID-19 testing center. He was confused by how this white tent could attract nearly the same amount of students as the ragers thrown by him and his brothers. "What do they have that we don’t?" wondered the Wharton junior as he scootered past the line of people.
Jacob promises he has not had anything to eat or drink in the 30 minutes before his COVID-19 spit test. Nope, not even one thing. Anyone who would say otherwise is a lying little weasel and is falsely accusing him of an offense he did not commit. Jacob would never do something that could dilute the test and make it faulty. How his spit test came back the exact same shade as a blue raspberry Jolly Rancher is beyond him. Perhaps someone put dye in it when he wasn’t looking? He promises he was framed! Jacob doesn’t even eat Jolly Ranchers.
First you stay here for spring break and labor tirelessly studying for your fifty-four midterms next week. Then you stay here for the summer, slaving away in some obscure lab researching things you don’t understand. And then after that, you think you are free as you walk across the stage and they hand you a shiny piece of paper.