A few days ago, the father of a friend of mine came to visit. This loving father -- we'll call him "Dale" to protect the innocent -- visits his son a few times a year, and I have always looked forward to his visits.
The first time I hit puberty was when I peed my bed. Well, according to my mom anyway.
"It's called a nocturnal emission," she whispered as we had the talk at our kitchen table.
Hi.
I'm the new editor-in-chief. Apparently, this is a good thing for me. According to a former section editor on staff here, it will help me to meet nice, wholesome girls who will believe (wrongly, I might add) that I'm both artsy and directed.
@Street Text:For whatever reason, I feel like I've been wanting you all my life. You don't understand, I'm so glad we're at the same place at the same time...
How do you tell someone you like her?
Religious Shoutouts: everything you ever wanted to tell Penn, religiously.
CAVEAT: The views expressed in the following belong only to the individuals submitting the ads, and do not necessarily reflect the views of 34th Street Magazine and its editors.
Satan, your history class despises you; we'd be indescribably grateful if you just shut the fuck up and never, EVER spoke again, you snobbish, devilish, patronizing, low-talking, ass-kissing, awful, awful, awful bitch.
Freshman Pharisee player and Jezebel who were naked in Pontius P-zilot's bed Saturday: We're sorry we barged in and fucked with you while you were hooking up.
JESUS: This Taiwanese/South American, Huntsman/artist superstar shows us that if religious superiority like this is wrong then, hey, I don't want to be right.
CAVEAT: The views expressed in the following belong only to the individuals submitting the ads, and do not necessarily reflect the views of 34th Street Magazine and its editors.
I stand before you in protest. In protest of myself. I am intelligent, I scored higher on the SATs than the vast majority of you, I enjoy anchovies but don't eat beef, I drive quite poorly, I attend an Ivy League university, primarily because my parents made me, and it seems that white girls do not want to date me.
Not everyone can carry the weight of the world. Unfortunately as the sole representatives of culture on this campus, this burden often falls on our shoulders.
Throughout our 34 years of existence, we have dropped hints, names and occasionally bombs as to how you might attain an inkling of coolness.
For juniors and seniors, the end is near; and it's pretty dark. You've probably spent three years immersing yourself in the demography of cocaine use in east Angola in the 19th Century only to realize now that no one cares.
The nightmare is over. Thankfully, most of you neglected to notice as the third installment in the American Pie series (American Wedding) sputtered, wheezed and ground to a much-needed halt within days of hitting the box office.
This past Saturday night after one too many, I found myself sitting on my living room couch composing a list entitled, "Should these things be important to me now?"
1.
Over the course of my three years at Penn, I've been threatened with deportation twice, frisked three times -- not just checking my boots for box-cutters, but the full deal, burly mustachioed women and all -- and most recently, over Fall Break, denied entry into this land of the free/home of the brave by a smug U.S.