Every year we’re stunned by Penn students’ sheer inability to submit funny shoutouts. Since you never learn, we’re making an example of some particularly heinous submissions. We’re not laughing with you, we’re laughing at you.
When I was a kid I would devour Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul. I would sit in my bathtub and soak for hours, reading and re–reading stories of broken hearts and bones, tales of ‘tough stuff’ and tragedies.
I think it stemmed from a typical t(w)eenage yearning to know what’s really up with our peers.
If you're reading this at all you're probably just, like soooo totally flungover (haha puns are just the best!) in bed on Sunday evening and are reflecting back on the 48 (or 72… or 96+) hours of flingin' flangin' fun you forgot to remember.
I am no fashionista. My mom picked out my first birthday dress (white lace), my Bat Mitzvah dress (pink raw silk), my prom dress (white lace again) and even my first college formal dress (tight and black).
Luckily, with seven female roommates, I have live–in style gurus.