Take a break from midterms and feast your eyes on this tale of booze, campus bars and would-be debauchery. And for all you complainers, this one’s written by a dude. As always, your comments (nice or mean) are appreciated.
“I could totally drink you under the table.”
I waited for her to chuckle. Explain she was kidding. Say she was really drunk. Anything. Attractive girls do this all the time; they try to pique a guy’s interest by challenging him—usually in play wrestling, poker, drinking or some other activity at which males are clearly superior and know it. It is a frequent, albeit juvenile, flirtation ploy. But Teeth Girl stared me down in a way that meant business—no coy glances or coquettish smile, only a stern look that meant one thing: a serious challenge.
I was conflicted. It felt wrong on many levels. She was three weeks into college, too young and stupid to know better, and fairly drunk to boot. Ah, screw it, I finally decided—it’s just a fucking drinking contest, not Russian roulette. Nobody is going to die or get hurt.
Tomorrow, we agreed, we would start fresh in my room. She came over to my place around nine to commence the festivities. We did the first three rounds consecutively. She kicked back shots of Barcardi like a guy. She showed no sign of any strain—her face devoid of the sneer-shudder common after taking shots.
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Are you down with bureaucracy? Posters? Unfulfilled promises? If any of these things appeal to you, go figure out how to run for office on the Nomination and Election Committee’s website. Seriously. The rest of us will be anxiously waiting for the great Awkward Video Battle, so don’t disappoint.
ELECTION WATCH 2010 WOO.
In case you haven’t been checking any listerv you’re on, ever, we’d advise you to check The Real World (on MTV, not to be confused with the actual real world) tonight at 10 p.m. You may or may not get a glimpse of some of our fellow Quakers keeping it classy… and by classy, we mean not at all. We won’t drop names, but you can pretty much just ask around.
Can’t wait/have something better to do than watch Real World? There’s a sneak peak here.
In this week’s installment of Pennetration, we bring you across many timezones to Australia. The famed junior semester abroad is supposed to be a “cultural experience,” but usually ends up being fueled by sex, drugs and techno music. You take your pick with this tale from way down under:
Before I set sail for my semester abroad in Australia, I frequently fantasized about the possibility of getting lucky on a beach with a gorgeous Australian surfer boy who would rock my world down under, over, and every way in between. But a month and a half in, my fantasies had not yet been translated into reality, leaving me frustrated, horny and on edge…going out every single night with a mission to get some from any man, nationality aside.
Until one night, the most bizarre, coincidental and sexy encounter of my life occurred. My friends and I arrived at a swanky Sydney nightclub, and the first thing I did was look for the nearest bathroom. The downstairs line was ridiculous, so two friendly Australian girls insisted I go to the upstairs bathroom with them where the line would be shorter. I was standing the bathroom line in this bar I wasn’t even planning on going to in the first place, when a hot Aussie man in line behind me decided to strike up a conversation. I mentioned I was from New York, and he responded that he had spent a summer there as a camp counselor. Instantly I realized why I kind of sort of recognized him.
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I was a prude. It’s pretty undeniable. In high school, the pool of eligible bachelors (if you can call them that) seemed exponentially smaller every year, so let’s just say the sex scene at college was a shock to me. Here I was, the same skinny long-haired brunette I had been four months earlier, but now boys were not just interested, they were pursuing me! Things moved rapidly: the second night of NSO I innocently asked an older boy where the bathroom was and five minutes later he was convincing me to come back to his apartment. Needless to say, my freshman year very quickly became an experiment in regrettable hookups.
Fast forward to second semester. I felt infinitely more comfortable in my skin than I had just months before. And after yet another relationship/hookup/arrangement/whatever-you-want-to-call-it fizzled, I had no qualms about going out with the intention of getting some. And that is exactly how the following story started.
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In the second installment of Pennetration, your one and only source into the scandalous lives of Penn’s sexual elite, a Penn gal writes of her encounter with the infamous blogger/self-proclaimed asshole Tucker Max.
Let me preface this with: Tucker Max is the fucking man.
I could try to describe his greatness, but I’d prefer to use his own words. As Tucker writes in the introduction to his website, “I get excessively drunk at inappropriate times, disregard social norms, indulge every whim, ignore the consequences of my actions, mock idiots and posers, sleep with more women than is safe or reasonable, and just generally act like a raging dickhead.”
I’ve always sort of fancied myself the female equivalent of Tucker Max. He has unquestionably been one of my biggest influences, in both my personal conduct and my writing style.
When I was a sophomore in high school, one of my male friends introduced me to the Tucker Max website. Right away I thought, “This dude is awesome!” I read through his many chronicles of drunken debauchery, which many times made me laugh so hard that I cried, and found myself strongly identifying with Tucker. When I heard Tucker was going to be in town…Continue reading.
We’re proud to present the first installment of Pennetration, UTB’s new sex diary column, featuring sex, vice and everything nice on our Ivy League campus. If you like what you see and are bold enough to divulge your escapades, send a note to contact@underthebutton.com. We’ll keep your identity under wraps, promise! Without further adieu, introducing our first brave volunteer: The Newly Single Junior Girl.
My sex life as a single chick in college began at the beginning of junior year when I was dumped by my boyfriend of over two years. I was shocked and heart-broken, but probably should have taken a cue from our sex life. We hadn’t had sex in weeks, despite my silent but extremely eager horniness. While I was emotionally destroyed, I still had a desperate desire to fuck. Needing to change my mindset about what was sexually off-limits for me, I threw myself into the flirting game. Even though I was shaking my ass and having fun, this was not the tactic that got me my first post-dumping fuck.
And so I met a well-endowed freshman. Continue reading >>
We’ve been getting lots of tips pointing us to a new blog by Penn students, Bar for the Course, in which two senior girls document their adventures at as many Philly bars as possible before graduation. While we appreciate Brynn and Emily’s efforts, we can’t help but notice similarities between the graphic from the How to survive at Penn feature we ran last year (left) and Bar for the Course’s staple graph (right).
Given the name of our blog, we figured it was probably about time we got a little sexier and a bit more scandalous. After all, sex sells, right?
With great anticipation, we announce UTB’s newest venture: a weekly series of Penn sex diaries.
Have you ever done it under the button? Slept with a TA? Had an epic walk of shame? Whatever your story is, we want to hear it. If you’re interested in spilling your hot and heavy beans, let’s get in touch. Send us an email at contact@underthebutton.com.
If you’re concerned about your reputation, we take anonymity seriously, so your identity will be concealed.
Check back next Monday for the first installment.
Here’s a good one from the gossip grapevine: Greek ladies report that during the first day of sorority rush, some freshman girl had the oh-so-brilliant idea of writing “Santa Claus” on her calling cards instead of her real name. But after making a few rounds around the houses, the sorority girls couldn’t take the confusion and kicked “Santa” out.
The best part? The impostor didn’t understand why she was getting the boot.
A couple of weeks ago myGreek.org launched at Penn. Pretty much everyone we know, Greek or not, got an email about this “Greek social networking site,” so we were intrigued. We snooped around the site for a week or so, and we have some thoughts.
1. Anyone can join. And we mean anyone. Yes, anyone can join Facebook now, but you need to have a valid Penn email address to be part of the Penn network. Not true over at myGreek. There is literally no verification, so that totally cute girl listed in the TriDelt composite could very well be a creepy guy who lives in his mom’s basement. There is a “secure your chapter” option, but it doesn’t look like anyone (save for Beta and AXO, that is) is using this feature.
2. Penn chapters include Theos, Owels [sic], and Bones Gate. Doesn’t sound too Greek (or legit) to us.
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Good morning, Van Pelters. Gossip(y) Girl(s) here.
The other day, someone forwarded us this email in which some dude (actually, a now Penn Law student and former class prez) recounts a conversation he overheard in Van Pelt. We laughed, but didn’t think much of it…until we received the email on like, twelve other listservs we’re subscribed to. When we looked back over the email, we had a number of concerns, including but not limited to: why is everyone declaring their love in Rosengarten? Also, did this guy sit there transcribing this whole exchange? Considering how quickly excited freshmen speak, we find this words per minute count to be impressive. Oh, and…to all the “Obnoxious Girls” and “Awkward Boys” out there — we salute you.
In the unlikely case that you didn’t receive the email (we simultaneously envy and pity you for not being subscribed to eight zillion listservs), the full text is below the jump.
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Our first snow pic comes to us via star tipster Jayme van Oot (mad props for the Button cameo!):
Our photos after the jump, complete with old timey pipe smoker.
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Street is all about telling you what’s up. And this week we tell you all sorts of crazy stuff, like about how the military loves Penn and how gluten-free doesn’t have to mean fun-free. We also break down your winter break film schedule (and your study music playlist). Our Ego of the Week is a senior society all-star, plus the Roundup reminds you that there is life outside of Van Pelt. And did you know about all this super important stuff that happened?
So pick up an issue right now. Or download the PDF. Read it, savor it, love it. Because this is the last regular issue of Street for the semester. But fear not, next week we will print our annual joke issue (plus Cultural Elite!).
PSA: This is not from the actual Penn LGBT Center. Uncool, “upennlgbt@gmail.com” — we know who you really are…
