Letter

From The Editor: 2.18.10

Most of my friends don’t know where the Charles Addams Fine Arts Hall is. “It’s the glass and brick building on 36th and Walnut,” I attempt to explain. “Annenberg?” “No.

by SARAH BETH MCKAY

From The Editor: 2.12.10

I have never seen so much snow fall in an urban setting in my entire life. Not even close. Sure, I had snow days in high school — but in Atlanta, snow days mean a half-inch of winter white and a city of Southerners scared to drive while it’s flurrying.

by SARAH BETH MCKAY

From The Editor: 2.04.10

I'm all for supporting good causes, but there is little that gets under my skin quite like those pesky volunteers that stand on corners around campus soliciting money for various charities.

by SARAH BETH MCKAY

From The Editor: 1.28.10

So, you picked up Street. You’re probably sitting in class, not even trying to hide that you’re not paying attention to a single thing the professor says.

by SARAH BETH MCKAY

From The Editor: 1.21.10

A lot of people have really great stories about Y2K. And with the new decade and everything, these stories tend to come up.

by SARAH BETH MCKAY

Letter From The Editor: 12.10.09

To the Punchbowl: Whatever! As IF! Double loser with a twist! x 2 = YOU. XOXO Tiger Street

by SARAH AND ELIZABETH OLSEN

From the Editor: 12.3.09

This is my last editor’s letter. Ever. Even though Street is printing next week, by then the new board will have taken over and I will be completely washed up.

by JULIA RUBIN

From the Editor: 11.19.09

Oh, Shoutouts, you are a fickle mistress. Some people think you are too mean. Some people think you are too tame.

by JULIA RUBIN

From the Editor: 11.12.09

Last week I attended my first preceptorial ever. It’s not that I hadn’t wanted to go to one before this semester, but rather I was systematically shut out of every cheese-tasting, Barnes Foundation-going, ceramics-learning preceptorial imaginable for the past six semesters.

by JULIA RUBIN

From the Editor: 11.5.09

However paradoxical it may seem, college has made me and my friends much less crazy, at least as far as school is concerned.

by JULIA RUBIN

From the Editor: 10.29.09

Tomorrow is my 22nd birthday. This is officially a non-exciting birthday. Who cares about 22? Nobody.

by JULIA RUBIN

From the Editor: 10.22.09

Thanks to three consecutive midterms, I ended up spending Fall Break in Philly. I don’t even know if it could be called a break (how Penn thinks that canceling Monday’s classes constitutes a vacation is beyond me), but it did allow for some quality time with my equally midterm-challenged roommates.

by JULIA RUBIN

From the Editor: 10.8.09

For all of you non-journalism nerds, I apologize for the next 300 words, in which I will proceed to totally geek out.

by JULIA RUBIN

From the Editor: 10.1.09

I went to my first Penn party the January of my senior of high school. Fresh off the high of my early admittance, I visited a friend from home who was a freshman living in the Quad, and took in all of Penn’s earthly delights.

by JULIA RUBIN

From the Editor: 9.24.09

As humans, we are all driven by fear: fear of loss, fear of failure, fear of insignificance. But we college students (or, at least, we Penn students) are driven by another type of fear: the fear of missing out.

by JULIA RUBIN

From the Editor: 9.17.09

Let’s be real: freshmen are on the bottom of the food chain. Most arrive at Penn without any friends, some have to live sans AC in Hill and pretty much none can get into Smoke’s.

by JULIA RUBIN

From the Editor: 4.23.09

With Fling (regrettably) over and reading days just a week away, I sat down to write this semester’s last letter with a mild case of writer’s block.

by JULIA RUBIN

From the Editor: 4.16.09

Twas the day before Fling, and up to campus’s edge, Not a creature was stirring, not even a pledge. The booze had been smuggled into the Quad with care, In hopes the RAs wouldn’t know it was there. The students in class wished they were in their beds, With visions of fried Oreos dancing in their heads. Tonight’s festivities would include a downtown jaunt, Mashups and dancing at our fave nighttime haunts. Papers and exams seemed so very far away, Kegs and eggs is how kids would choose to start their day. Friday would bring inflatables and the yummiest of food, A cappella performances would help complement the mood. Fling wouldn’t be complete without a funnel cake or two, Not to mention a trip to the Zete petting zoo. The DP’s Quad booth promised photos and more, Oh, there’s such well-deserved fun in store! The Green would be filled with lots of earthly delights, (Study the back of our insert so you don’t miss the sights.) When nighttime cometh, Akon would take the Fling stage, With the Guster boys in tow (check out our first insert page). But be wary, dear reader, of your Flungover state, Make good choices, drink water, be smart and be safe. And when Sunday comes, there is one thing you must do: Submit lots of Shoutouts, we want to hear from you! Stage Five Flinger, Julia

by JULIA RUBIN

From the Editor: 4.9.09

This week, my favorite pair of jeans died. RIP black ankle-length skinny jeans with the contrast stitching.

by JULIA RUBIN

From the Editor: 4.2.09

We love lists. We love making them, reading them, crossing things off of them. Each issue of Street starts with a story list and ends with a production checklist.

by JULIA RUBIN

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