Because we’re thankful for ya, the staff here at UTB put together a li’l Thanksgiving bingo card for your eNjOyMeNt. Click to enlarge, print, and cut it out (god bless if you actually do). See if you can get bingo before the food coma sets in, or blackout before Grandma blacks out. Hurrah, hurrah, happy Thanksgivukkah!
Hear ye, hear ye! Calling all hungover Batmen and walk-of-shame sexy felines: now is your chance to repent your sins! Or rather, try to remember them. As per tradition, UTB wants to hear about your Halloween, but you can show better than you can tell.
Anonymously expose your ex, that random guy at a party, or yourself—we won’t judge. Spend your morning after the right way: sifting through your phone and sending whatcha got to email@example.com (area code included!). Check back to see if your drunk confessions or dirty talk made it on the blog! [Names not included, dignity sold separately.]
After Penn’s premier chocolate chip cookie-dough pancake factory closed in May 2011, we were left with a 40th-and-Walnut-sized void in our hearts and stomachs. Fast-forward a year and a half, and surprise! HarBar! Though the soft opening of the seasonal, healthy joint went down last week, we stopped by for the official first day (hard opening?) Thursday evening with a list of questions to be answered:
Why the tacky fountain outside?
What does HarBar look like inside?
Would the average Penn kid have a reason to come here?
Should you take your date here?
If you do, should you and your date sit downstairs or in the swanky upstairs room?
Remember, UTB Writers' Meeting Tonight!– Meet us at 4015 Walnut (directly to the left of Metro Bakery) tonight at 6:00 p.m. to learn about how to get involved with Under the Button this semester. Check our post earlier this week for details. And remember: FREE BEER!
Seniors, Hey Day was– what? Almost five months ago? Anyway, we can’t say that we had fun until the Class Board officially says we had fun, and so they made this video to tell us that YES! We did have fun! See? Look at all those drunk eyes and sheepish grins; feel the crunch of styrofoam in your mouthhole at 0:47; hear the ecstatic screams of a girl and her hamburger at 2:01. Too bad we remember 0% of it, because apparently it was the best day of our lives. Right, girl at 2:06? Preach.
When I came to Penn, I thought of myself as a poster child for anonymous hookups. As a naive freshman, nothing seemed better, but the trouble with having a bunch of one-night stands began at my freshman year sorority bid party. I started making out with a good-looking guy. I was confident with him, kind of bitchy; it was hot. He asked me to guess which frat he was in, but I couldn’t. “You’ll see when we go there,” he said. It wasn’t a suggestion or a question—and I liked that, because it was obvious I was going home with him. He was teasing, being kind of an asshole. Exactly what I wanted. He never even asked my name.
We went back to his house, where we put on some music, drank more, danced around and made out. He finally asked my name when he was saving my number in his phone, but part of the excitement of the hook up—all hook ups, for that matter—was the anonymity, so I didn’t tell him. “Just save it as Wednesday Night,” I tried to say seductively (it was probably just embarrassing). After I spent the night, he never called. I was slightly disappointed, but I took it in stride. Read the rest of this entry »
How rad is this vintage pic from 1953? Not quite the Jazz Age, mind you, but channeling some of that glitzy energy nonetheless. This ball was part of Penn’s Junior Week, which included a series of social and athletic events around Thanksgiving that culminated in a Junior Cane March. At some point over the past century this ceremonial student parade transformed into a drunkenfree-for-all, but hey, no one’s complaining.
We’ve all been there. It’s 2:15 a.m., and where are you? In the corner of Smoke’s, standing quietly and hoping nobody will notice you’re still alive. “No, it’s okay. I know him,” you say defiantly. Sure you do. After a few minutes of drunken one-sided arguments with your least favorite bartender, you leave, convinced that it was your choice in the first place and no, you will absolutely not be coming back (until tomorrow). You let your feet take you where they will take you. They take you to McDonald’s.
The late night of all late nights, McDonald’s is a place to see and be seen past closing time. You will not be judged, because everyone else looks exactly like you: drunk, desperate and, most of all, hungry as balls. But it’s not all fun, games and barbecue sauce. You have a decision to make–a difficult one. Below you’ll find a breakdown of the messages you’re sending by putting that greasy, delicious (almost) food in your mouth: wanna get laid? Trying to hide a debilitating sauce addiction? Read on.
A Big Mac–You get an A for effort. The Big Mac, otherwise known as the Kingpin of sandwiches (something we just made up), poses a formidable threat to your well-being and will violently destroy your appetite. You’ve got guts, and you just don’t care that you’ll be puking them up in, oh, 20 minutes. Read the rest of this entry »
Remember when Wine and Spirits on 41st closed? Of course you do. Luckily for all you Quaker tipplers out there, Penn Delivers is here. Now, the delivery service is not exactly new on campus, but we thought it’d be in your (liver’s) best interest to remind you of it.
It all seems pretty legally questionable, but here’s how it works: email or text Penn Delivers [at ( 240) 997-2431] with your order, desired timeframe of delivery (Tuesday, Thursday, Friday or Saturday, from 3 to 6 p.m.), and email (or phone number). If you don’t want to pay cash on delivery, you can charge your booze to PayPal. There’s a $5 delivery charge and a $2 convenience charge tacked on to each item, but that’s a small price to pay for lugging your lazy self on to SEPTA to get your own sauce. Oh, and obviously, you have to be 21 or older to buy.
The typical sequence of events on a Penn weekend night: you get trashed at Smoke’s and then meander on over to FroGro for some late-night munchies. Multiply that by ten and you’ve got our new friend in the video above. We almost feel bad for this kid, but if you fall asleep on the shelves at FroGro, that’s your deal. Use some discretion next time, yeah?