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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!
Everything is different these days. The bricks on Locust Walk have a new texture. It’s a mild fifty degrees in the dead of winter. The Stranger Things boy is gay now. The university is facing an identity crisis.
We’ve all been there. Your mom/roommate/professor approaches you and drops some seriously awful news. Her cat has feline leukemia. His lake house and puzzle collection were swept away in a mudslide. Your grandma has a UTI because she holds in her pee.
So, the other day around 6:00 PM EST, I got a strange feeling of hunger. I felt so hungry that I could have almost eaten a meal. Are you familiar with such feeling? Anywho, I meandered throughout our lush campus until I found myself in a familiar setting: the cozy enclave that I like to call McClelland.
Hey everyone, and welcome to the final stretch! You've made it this far, and there's not much more to go. I know you can do it, and deep down, you know it too. Here at Under the Button, we are all in your corner. And we agree! It really is time for break -- time to be free of finals, to be away from your failed situationship, to have a bedroom to yourself, and for the only thing that really matters: quality me-time.
The Penn Germanic Studies community has been left reeling after the recent theft of an historic manuscript from Van Pelt Library. On Monday, the Kislak Center for Special Collections, Rare Books and Manuscripts announced that foul play was suspected in the disappearance of Altdeutsche Märchen, Sagen und Legenden, a 19th-century compilation of German fairy tales and mythology first published in Leipzig, Prussia.
When will you break this cycle?
Sources report that HIST 1240, Scars: Impacts of the Cold War, just got way more intolerable. The conversations in this ten person seminar are dominated by pushy, reactionist college sophomore Aaron Smith. Things are taking a turn. Smith, known for butting into conversations with "just to play devils advocate" followed by something wildly insensitive, just came up with a new slogan. "I don't wanna yuck someone's yum."
The place might have been commissioned by Hamad bin Khalifa Al Thani. Laminated floor to ceiling, every surface a design boardroom’s fervent debate, a commemoration of wealth so immediately productive of crowds and jammed traffic that going to class evokes the splendor of attending a 2016 makeup product launch at a Los Angeles mall, the one-hundred-forty-million-dollar Huntsman Hall manages to strike a nerve in anyone who steps foot inside. Can you belieeeeve Pret has four Philadelphia locations, and TWO of them are in Huntsman Hall: one on the ground floor, and one on the second floor, for the MBAs of course.
I am writing to you from the corner of my late roommate's funeral. Very sad. And would you like to know the saddest part about her death (I’m telling you either way)? It’s that her death was 100% preventable.
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The first fire was the fire of falsehood, “when we do not fulfill what we promised.” Next came the fire of avarice, “when we place our love of worldly riches before the riches of Heaven,” then the fire of discord, “when we do not fear to offend the souls of our neighbors even in superficial matters,” and the fourth the fire of irreverence, “when we think it nothing to despoil and defraud those weaker than ourselves.” The four rolodexed through my mind as I made my daily trek to the dining hall. Interactions all doomed from the start. Damned by their own inertia, they collapse in on themselves and follow this tragic pattern.
After waiting two hours for an eyedropper-sized bottle of perfume and the Glossier "experience," college sophomore Elaine Miller was devastated Tuesday afternoon. She missed her STAT-1010 midterm.
On November 16, 2022, a select few University of Pennsylvania performing arts groups held their annual Family Showcase Night in Irvine Auditorium. This is the event of the year for many empty-nesters who now have nothing better to look forward to than amateur standup comedy, a cappella, and interpretive dance. Unfortunately, a Penn A Cappella group (they wish to remain anonymous) encountered disaster after a practically life-threatening mistake was made. Thanks to in-depth and immensely involved research, Under The Button has compiled a comprehensive timeline of the tragedy.
Family weekend brings all kinds of parents to campus. Some want to see where their kid eats lunch, and some want to relive their college glory days by drinking beer with 20-year-olds. Either way, it’s the long-awaited event of the season for many. Even if your parents don’t come, it’s still an exciting time — you already know that your roommate is rich, now it's time to see if they also have a hot dad.
“Damn, still got at least a half hour left,” Adam Penner, Penn dad and self-proclaimed “history buff,” muttered under his breath in between rounds of flip cup. At that point, Adam was enduring his sixth hour at Penn and ninth hour of “family time” that day. "That is," he continues, gesturing to Mrs. Penner, “if you count the three hour car ride with Drinky Von-Pees-A-Lot.”
I really do! I loooovvveee Venn Diagrams.
This past weekènd, we were at a social soirèe with some of our closest acquaintances. Upon entrance, we encountered a lackluster scene. No formidable music was present, nor were any good feelings to be had. They didn't even have champagne, only sparkling wine… from *gag* Milan *gag*. (P.s. There is NOTHING to do in Milan. It is DEVOID of activity.) How were we supposed to quench our dire thirst with this pedestrian imbibement?
BUSTLETON AVENUE, PHILADELPHIA, PA – Hi Penn, I’m standing here outside of what used to be the “Broken Bones, Broken Hearts” Animal Shelter in Northeast Philly. And I have grave news. Just minutes ago, this building and all of the dogs, cats, bunnies, and other pets who lived here were blown up like helpless passengers on a plane crashing into a volcano.