On Homecoming Saturday I flirted with the full spectrum of past, present and future. First, I ran into a recent graduate with whom I used to have an infatuation; I later high-fived a guy from class at the ’Pelt, then, that evening rekindled my cougar instincts as I awkwardly introduced myself to the freshman with the voice of an angel, who had read my blog along with all of the Penn Six list serve recipients. Great job Saturday, guys.
My Homecoming really was full of shoulda…woulda…coulda sentiments, but it was with the additional overwhelming festivities of the weekend that I came to the unnerving realization that despite the fact that I have the libido of a 16-year-old boy, I do not want a single guy to step foot in my bedroom this year.
I’ve had the same room off campus since my sophomore year. It’s quiet, and the floor space is spectacular. However, about a week before moving into the place back in 2006, my mom and I went to Sleepy’s. When I settled on the perfect mattress, jumping up and down with the salesman who was allegedly as ecstatic as I was, my mom broke the moment as she said, “great–we’ll take it in a twin.”
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Me-yow!
When I was in high school, I dated a younger guy off and on for a couple of years. For the most part, driving him everywhere and calling his mom for permission to go to the movies didn’t get to me, until one day when we were fooling around watching TV. Suddenly, on came the Pokemon theme song. Now, I would not be caught dead watching that show–even to this day, I much prefer quality old school Nicktoons to any anime bullshit (Sorry, D)–so to say it was alarming when my boyfriend squealed with excitement, “oh my god I looooove Pokemon. You’re my Pikachu!,” would be an understatement. When we officially broke up and I hooked up with my first college guy (a senior with a record deal) three days later, I concluded that never again would I rob the cradle. Until now.
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As a transfer student, I have the lovely experience of not being a freshman while often getting treated as if I were (for the record, I didn’t ask to live in Hill, and those upperclassmen choosing to live here again are crazy). But rather than dwell, I’ve used my social pariah status to study the ways of the first-semester freshman. You may think think that the giant scarlet “F” you felt like your were wearing on your forehead during NSO has disappeared as you settle into October, but there’s still a lot to learn. Here are five of the most egregious errors.
Tip 1: Penn Swag
I love Penn as much as the next student. And when I heard about Bursar for the first time, I loved Penn even more (Penn 1, Indiana University 0). After all, the best part of shopping is using the credit card you swiped out of Dad’s wallet. It’s great that you want to rock that school spirit. But we can tell you’re a freshman when you wear a different Penn shirt every day, carry your Penn coffee mug everywhere, and never take your Penn baseball cap off.
Common Freshman Misconception: That $1,000 dollar Bursar credit? You haven’t paid for that yet. It’s like a credit card limit. So good luck explaining your shopping spree at the bookstore to Mom and Dad.
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The UA prides itself on their commitment to sustainability: the word appears many times in their list of accomplishments. Apparently, though, the incoming freshman didn’t quite get the memo?
The Penn Environmental Group must be so proud. Glad to see that we’re keeping Penn beautiful.
