What is that succulent scent wafting through the hallowed halls of Harnwell? God damn it. Is that steak au poivre?

Please send in a picture (FULL BODY!!!) and a brief description of yourself. Include BMI, favorite position, income, and list of daily vitamins. I promise that if you are the right fit, we will have an amazing time together :) 

“It’s disrespectful towards those in the Philadelphia community who have always been hospitable towards these kids and literally can’t even get into an invite-only rush event. It’s bullshit.”

But is any of this effort enough to gear me up for the absolute bloodbath on the second floor of Panera Bread? 

I know what you’re all thinking: Aren’t there so many better reasons to sacrifice children than to welcome the harvest? The answer is no, there isn’t. 

When Jerry swerves and hits that sharp right turn, my heart drops to my ass, and suddenly I’m a devout Christian.

Yeah, just read it over and add a few suggestions or something. I’ll take a look at it once I get back from Smokes. Don’t be afraid to tear it to shreds — it’s due at midnight.

Tracking Penn students is the DP's ultimate wet dream.

I am a cool, chill girl who just doesn’t care about my birthday.

I just think that before we have a conversation about the negative effects of COVID, we should just quickly talk about the negative effects of the elderly.

Want to look like the most exclusive, hottest bitches in Philadelphia? UTB did all the hard work for you and found out where they all like to hang out.  

For the last time, Mommy: stop calling my Cheetos “junk food”. They are far, far more important than you will ever know.

You think sheets of paper are gonna rectify the damage of your blowing asshole?

Some have commented that plants are even better than digital interactions, such as Facetime or Zoom, because “My monstera can’t leave me like everyone else.”  

If you repent and pray extra hard, you will be saved.

We all know that doors are all a little bonkers, but these seven doors are TOTALLY unhinged!  

You, dear reader, are presented today with a similar, devastating predicament: Do you invite me to your party OR know that I will shut down your shindig out of spite and hot jealous rage? 

One measly day isn’t enough to process the trauma of calling your professor Mom, let alone one to four whole years of undergrad. Yo, Gutmann! Don’t leave me high and dry here.

Or perhaps all along they’ve been the thing stopping themselves from achieving happiness. No, that’s not possible--it’s not as though they sabotage themselves by having 7+ hours of screen time, eating 1.5 meals a day, and sleeping only 4 hours.

They thought that they were simply built different and that their stupid little February birthdays were safe. But now who has the last damn word?