Below are your search results. You can also try a Basic Search.
I’m going to be honest and brief. It’s Spring, and my balls are sweaty. No matter what I do, they sweat and itch. Plus, the other day when it went up to 80°, it felt like they were going to melt and run down my leg. This makes me very nervous about my reproductive health. My kids are in there, and they get squirmy when the heat rises. I don’t know how to calm them down.
The bathrooms in DRL, though nothing glamorous, are a place I spend lots of my time. It’s not by choice but by necessity. Although some people around me in adjacent stalls may be receiving head from gentlemen they matched with on Tinder or Grindr, they do not spend as much time staring at the tiled floor or desperate flyers for psychological test subjects as I do.
We live in a cruel, capitalistic world. That means rent is expensive, and anyone who lives under my roof needs to pay their fair share. A mouse moved into my apartment without giving her deposit or first/last month’s rent. Unfortunately, I’m going to have to brutally murder her and her entire family because she isn’t paying her fair share. I don’t make the rules; I just enforce them.
Nothing lifts up the spirits more than warm weather making its way across campus with frat boys lounging on decaying couches, women wearing sundresses that reveal the purplish-blue color of their shivering knees, flowers framing your view of overflowing trash cans on Walnut. What bliss!
Men only want one thing, and it’s disgusting. However, I too only want one thing: a man to be my emotional support animal. Emotional support animals are extremely helpful to anyone suffering from anxiety, depression, or who only wants to use men as a tool for their entertainment rather than getting entangled in the horrifying world of dating. Yes, it would be nice to have a boyfriend, but I’d prefer to have a boy as my emotional support animal. I give him food and water, and he sits at the foot of my bed and can’t talk back to me. This is my ideal relationship.
Fuji Fraternity is planning their annual spring break trip. However, rather than acting like colonizers in Puerto Vallarta or destroying local culture in Mexico City, they’re going to take things in a different direction this year: they’re taking a tour of Southeast Asia to “find themselves” and marginalize others along the way.
If you’ve ever heard an effectively pre-pubescent high school boy stutter through the prologue of The Canterbury Tales that he was forced to memorize by an English teacher somewhere along the line, then you’ll understand why Chaucer makes me wet. The middle English that sounds like a haunted nursery rhyme, men mounting horses, cuckoldry — what else could possibly be involved in your wildest sex fantasies? Everything else I've tried to masturbate to pales in comparison.
I knew that life could be challenging. I had to ask my parents twice for a Canada Goose jacket before they bought me one in middle school. I actually had to pay someone to complete my application to Penn, even though I’m a double legacy and the application is just a formality. But last Wednesday, I experienced the true difficulty of a world set against me. I ordered a vanilla latte at Pret, and I had to wait eight minutes before they gave me my drink.
In this day and age, it can be hard to find your footing when trying to convince someone to sleep with you in your twin XL bed, all based on the vague allure of an unsatisfying or faked orgasm. However, this didn’t stop James Fulton (C ’20) from trying an alternative method to lure a girl into his unsanitary dorm room.
All of us have heard of the alleged health benefits that come with drinking kombucha, and we have all witnessed the spread of the fizzy, multicolored drinks across shelves at every grocery store, from FroGro to Whole Foods. For some, the high price tag keeps them away. For others, the fermentation from a floating piece of mold that looks like a breast implant is enough to prevent them from consuming the drink. However, Simone Williams (C ’20) has cut costs and overcome all of these fears in one fell swoop: for the past three weeks, she has been constantly brewing kombucha in her asshole.
I can’t believe I actually have to write an article about something this obvious, but I think it’s time we all address the elephant in the room. Penn’s "lovable" Quaker has an overpowering fetish for other people dressed in animal costumes, and is using his role as mascot to mask his darker desires. Let’s look at the facts.
Fling is just around the corner, and it's safe to say there have been many different reactions to the performers who will be coming to Penn park this Saturday. While most students are confused as to why the All American Rejects have risen from the grave for this event, there was a greater upset when CupcaKke’s appearance was announced.
The day had finally come: I was sick of eating lint out of my pockets, and I had been standing in the self-checkout line at Frogro for three days. I had to walk, twenty agonizing minutes, to Trader Joe’s. I put this off for several reasons: I would have to decide between multiple types of fruit that are not covered in mold and make small talk with cashiers who seems content in their life after I entered the literal vortex of suburban hell.
While her Wharton friends were creating startups and her Engineering friends were working on complex machinery, Susan Goldberg (C ‘20) focused on developing an even more important idea: the best way to avoid making small talk on Locust. Susan paid a young, married couple to push her from class to class in a pink stroller.
Last Tuesday, an apocalyptic battle between Jehovah’s Witnesses and the street preachers broke out on top of the button, resulting in the deaths of at least three squirrels who were killed in the crossfire.
Wow! What a win for feminism: The Wharton School now has free tampon dispensers in Steinberg-Dietrich Hall! Although only six women were accepted into the Wharton class of 2022, this ensures that those six women can diversify executive boards across the country, all while menstruating! This is truly a revolution for future generations of Wharton women!
With Franklin’s Table recently opening up near 34th and Walnut, it seemed that the University of Pennsylvania was becoming something of a foodie destination. But now, there's no doubt.
There was chaos in the Alpha Sigma Sigma (ΑΣΣ) house last Saturday night. As the sisters got ready for a night downtown full of selfies and tequila shots, compliments were flying. One sorority member, Ashlyn Craig (C ‘19), recalls telling her big, Rachel Goldberg (C ’18), “Oh my god, Rachel, your ass looks so good in that dress. Ugh! Can I just be you already?”
Amanda Ashberry (C ‘19) just returned from a fabulous spring break hopping across islands in the Caribbean. She went to the Virgin Islands, Trinidad and Tobago, then finished up the week exploring Cuba. “It was just, like, such a culturally rich experience,” she told us over Skype, holding a margarita the size of her head while she lounged on the beach. She said she was especially excited to talk to her post-colonial literature class about her memories from the trip.
Last Friday night I drank a little too much, one thing led to another, and I woke up the next morning missing my left nipple. Yeah, the one over my heart. I’m pretty devastated, as you can imagine.