Letter

Most of my spring break was spent in a bubble bath with three of my best friends. Upon arriving in Montreal, where the drinking age is 19 and the dollar is strong, we were probably most excited to discover that our hotel room included a large Jacuzzi tub.
March 20, 2014 at 9:07 am

In part two of my tween–obsession saga (for those of you following along, yes, I’m still listening to One Direction), I have a crush on a group of teenage–boy Vine stars. Rereading that sentence made me gag a little.
February 27, 2014 at 9:08 am

Yesterday morning I fell down five icy stairs on my back porch. It was incredibly painful. I sat there, alone in the cold, clawing for my phone, for two freezing–cold minutes.
February 20, 2014 at 8:53 am

As the Editor–in–Chief of an arts and culture magazine, I feel it is both my civic and editorial duty to admit that I have fallen under the spell of One Direction.
February 14, 2014 at 9:24 am

Yesterday I went downtown to treat myself to a haircut and some much needed off–campus alone time. Seated comfortably in the safety of the rear¬–most station, I was ready to let my mind wander from the consuming topics of the Penn bubble.
February 6, 2014 at 9:49 am

Bobby Blue, medium rare, crunchified, sweet potato fries and fry sauce on the side, thanks. My name is Chloe Bower and I’m a burger addict. More specifically, I’m a Bobby’s Burger Palace addict.
January 30, 2014 at 9:02 am

On Wednesday of last week I was only registered for two classes. Not too dramatic, I know, but for me, under-enrollment was traumatizing.  Advanced Registration had never failed me in the past.
January 23, 2014 at 9:08 am

British things I can't live without
July 26, 2012 at 12:00 pm

I have a secret to share with you. Ready? I hate writing these letters. I'm not particularly funny (at least on purpose). I'm not witty or clever or profound.
December 1, 2011 at 2:48 am

Rather than use this space as a letter, I’m going to make you a list. If you remember from a few weeks ago (for the three people who read these beside my beloved Mom and Dad), organized girls love lists.
November 17, 2011 at 2:25 am

Penn’s changed a lot since I first settled into a cramped Hill double three and a half years ago. No more happy hour specials at LTs.
November 10, 2011 at 12:01 am

I have a theory about being brilliant. If you do something I don’t know how to do, then you must be the best at it.
November 3, 2011 at 1:07 am

Halloween makes people uncomfortable. Some can’t handle all the costumes, all the candy, all the frat parties named with terrible rhymes. But others get into it.
October 27, 2011 at 2:53 am

Lists are like crack to organized girls. We can add to them indefinitely and make them look elegant and important with curly handwriting.
October 20, 2011 at 1:48 am

I had big plans for Fall Break. I wanted to go to Vegas. I had visions of flaunting my legality. I would sit at a slot machine, shmooze with Cher and sneak into the Real World suite at the Palms. Then Yom Kippur happened. With a last name like Goodman, I knew I couldn’t spend the holiest day of the year parading around with would–be Vegas showgirls.
October 13, 2011 at 3:45 am

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.
September 29, 2011 at 2:37 am

My first concert was a really sweaty My Chemical Romance set at the Downtown in Farmingdale, New York.
September 22, 2011 at 1:06 am

Being Google–able sucks. We crazy college kids can’t really do stupid stuff anymore. Well, that’s not true.
September 15, 2011 at 3:38 am

As most wrestled with the rained–out Quad activities on Saturday, I was knee deep in New Orleans. No, I wasn't going through Mardi Gras withdrawal.
April 21, 2011 at 2:03 am

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.
April 14, 2011 at 2:09 am