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After a long Thursday night avoiding her responsibilities, Katrina Sarai (C ‘22) stumbled into her room at 2:30 A.M. only “moderately to severely high” and “just a bit tipsy.” In the perfect state to be productive, Sarai buckled down to get a head start on that Astronomy 001 homework due at 8:00 A.M.
While in years past finals season has been a never-ending marathon of free food, study breaks, and playful puppies, all of these resources are schedule to change as the University adjusts the College’s budget for the 2018-2019 school year. Instead of providing hairy, mangy pups with slobbery mouths, the College has instead decided to invest in a far more adorable critter: the cockroach.
Ho ho ho. 'Tis the season, and if you have anything lower than a 4.0, your ass is grass and your family is going to mow it. But that’s okay—in preparation for the holiday season, UTB has made a guide on how to hide that GPA from your judgmental Aunt Sharon.
You bolt upright in bed, your body and sheets soaked in sweat.
As you turn and start to make a break for it, a gigantic, hulking shadow blocks your way. You gasp. The Penn Quaker shambles towards you, taking enormous, rattling breaths. You shriek, and run into the atrium, right into the benevolent arms of Amy Gutmann.
“OMG!” you shriek ecstatically. “My dream come true!” You run into the atrium, fumbling for your phone in your pocket. In your haste you trip over several shackled skeletons but you catch yourself before you fall into a puddle of fresh blood. “P-president Gutmann,” you gasp between heaving breaths, “I’m such a huge fan, PLEASE, we have to get a selfie!”
Following at a safe distance, you spot Jeff ducking into College Hall. Not letting him escape your sight, you pursue Jeff through a hidden door and discover a secret basement. It’s dim, and you can barely see yourself place one foot in front of the other. Only the echoes of Jeff’s steps tell you that you’re going in the right direction. Gradually, as you keep walking, gentle candlelight flickers on the walls. Jeff heads through a cavernous passageway, and close behind, you peek through it from behind a corner. Inside is a large atrium, illuminated by thousands of flickering candles.
Mm, YES Jeff knows how to work that trunk of his. You’re both feeling the music that night, and when the time’s right Jeff slowly turns around and encircles your neck between his arms. You aggressively DFMO — aggressively, and just like that you’re off to the races, which is to say, you lead Jeff back to your room and get to work.
It’s 3 a.m. at this point and the party is starting to die down. With Mindy still against the wall with her mans, you decide to get a light drink before snatching her and hitting the road. “Triple vodka shot with orange juice,” you tell the brother manning the bar, proud of yourself for making sure that your body gets enough Vitamin C. Your hands touch as he hands you your drink, and as you look up into his gorgeous, bloodshot eyes, sparks fly. “Jeff?” you ask. “From Writing Sem?”
You eye Mindy and her new man like an eagle, looking for the perfect opportunity to strike. The copious amounts of alcohol that Mindy’s been consuming all night suddenly catches up with her, and she runs off to the bathroom to yak up her entire digestive tract. Like a leopard you approach your quarry, and with his back turned to you you put your hand on his shoulder and turn him around.
Mindy can wait until you’re available. Which, when dealing with her, will be never. Tonight you’re going to do a little R&R, watch some Netflix, do some light homework catch-up — Wait, holy shit did you just see Jeff leave his dorm room? Like, it sounds creepy, but you could totally follow him.
As you slurp on the ambrosia of the gods and look out into the barren West Philadelphian streets, you know leaving the sweaty, smelly, crowded frat basement was the right call. Someone taps you on the shoulder, interrupting your quiet meditation. You turn around and see that it’s Jeff again, who is obviously infatuated with you. You’re impressed and lowkey a little bit creeped out that he followed you all the way here from the party. But also, you just finished your milkshake, and nothing makes you hornier than a stomach full of $3 Shamrock Shake.
You meet Mindy outside of your building looking about as appealing as Philadelphia’s treasured mascot Gritty. Which is to say, you look irresistible. Mindy’s so impressed with your I-couldn’t-care-less aesthetic that she shoots you lustful glances as you make your way to the Yo Kappa Kappa party. You would be flattered, but you know that you can do much better than Mindy.
With Mindy you roll up to the Yo Kappa Kappa party looking like hell on wheels, and all of the boys are trying to catch a look at you. Or maybe they’re just staring at the giant rip down the back of your pant leg that you won’t discover until much, much later.
After agreeing to go, you rise from your bed and look at yourself in the mirror. An ogre stares back at you. If you’re going out you should really try to fix that. But then again, putting on actual clothing and combing your hair and just generally functioning like a normal human being are beyond your grasp. What do you do?
Braving the cold nighttime air, you bundle up in your favorite Canada Goose jacket and start for the long, lonely trek to your nearest local Wawa. You order the Mac & Cheese cause that shit slaps. You duck and dive through the hordes of drunk college students to make it to the register. The person in front of you finishes paying and turns around. Surprise! It’s Jeff, and he’s ravenous for a turkey and cheese hoagie with a side of your booty. He winks at you, and you melt like the cheese sandwiched between a warm Wawa panini.
At long last, you get the notification that your GoPuff delivery has arrived. Excited at the prospect of ice cream at 2 a.m., you open your door and step into the night air. A mysterious figure in GoPuff uniform is standing in front of you. As he slowly turns around, you gasp in astonishment. That gorgeous face and bod belonged to none other than Jeff from Writing Sem! And LAWD is he a hella cute delivery boy. “So,” says Jeff, “Wanna split these Sour Patch Watermelons with me?”
It’s been three hours, and after quintuple texting Will M., it seems like you won’t get lucky tonight after all. That’s okay, though. You’re a strong, independent individual and you don’t need no man. You go and sit outside your building in the cold night air, and it seems that even the squirrels are having a better night than you (they are).
Will M. responds in three minutes flat, and suffice it to say he likes your butt, and he wants to be the stuff inside of it. Thanking your acquaintances for all the alcohol you just wasted, you go back to your dorm and wait in anticipation for that knock. You sit for an hour and it never comes. You're starting to get nervous about your next GBM. Do you send him another text?
You break eye contact with Jeff. He’s the predator and you’re the prey, and you’re gonna make him work for his — oh shit, you tripped. Being a helpful guy, Jeff walks over and tries to help you up, but he’s so drunk that he falls on top of you. In that instant the two of you just click. “Wanna fuck?” asked Jeff, and you know that you’re always DTF.