Old school Penn football

Homecoming is tomorrow, which means alumni, free food on college green, and, oh yeah, the game!

The Homecoming game is the best football game of the year because people actually go to it. I remember going to my first game freshman year and being disappointed with the lack of attendance in addition to the lack of school spirit. Having a stadium that can fit 52,593 for a school of 10,000 undergrads is clearly not helping the problem.

Coming from a high school with enough spirit to share — even if our team was having a bad season — it was sad to see the lack of support the Penn football team was getting from students. In high school we would tailgate, the guys would paint their chests blue and red (go Patriots!), and we would all be ready to run onto the field when we won.

I am especially thankful that I had these experiences before I got to Penn. Otherwise, seeing the pictures of all my friends at Alabama or Auburn games would send me into a deep depression.

But Homecoming gives all of Penn’s school spirited the chance to feel not so alone. With all the alums back in town and midterms mostly over with, Franklin Field should be a little more full than usual. And if that doesn’t get people to the stadium, hopefully the free stuff will.

Let me get this straight.

You and your friends went to McDonald’s “in the early hours of Sunday, October 19th.” Their employees were mean to you. You had them fired.

Really?

The Daily Pennsylvanian article reported that the group of friends initially entered the restaurant so they could use the bathroom. You couldn’t hold it? Or better yet, partake in a little public urination?

Anyway, they made you order and the cashier, as cashiers often do, made a mistake that required help from the manager. Fair enough. But at this point “you had already complained about the service.” Service that was probably tired of deciphering slurred orders from the several dozen patrons that pack Mickey D’s “in the early hours of Sunday” (read: the end of Saturday night).

But it gets better. The manager comes out, and, in an effort to waste valuable minutes of your life (I’m not exactly sure what your next destination was…) tells the cashier to take her time. (more…)

In my basement lies — both literally and figuratively — my childhood.

In the affectionately named “Barbie Graveyard,” one can find scores of Barbies, Barbie heads and legs, a broken ping-pong table covered in potential hand-me-downs waiting for their moment to shine with my non-existent younger sister and awesome board games such as “Ask Zandar,” “Mall Madness” and “Dream Phone.”

These playthings not only characterized what I did with my free time (i.e., all of it), but who I would choose to associate with. Classmates would have their parents arrange playdates for us because they heard rumors about my unparalleled Barbie collection.

My “best friend” admitted that she preferred my sister to me because my sister did not share my slightly obsessive — yet way ahead of my time in terms of comprehending sanitary procedure — rule forbidding my Barbies to share clothes.

You may think that fostering friendships at Penn is more complicated than Barbies. It isn’t.

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The sign in front of the Annenberg Public Policy Center construction site

Walking down Locust one day, I noticed the usual group of naive tourists taking pictures with Benjamin Franklin and his pee-stained bench.

But something seemed out of place this time. No, it wasn’t the nationality of the tourists. They were Asian. Nor was it the color or the bench. It was still pee-stained. Instead, there was a little red sign planted next to Benny’s bench.

Having never noticed this sign before, I took a closer look. Apparently, if I called 215-525-1562 and entered a number from one to ten, I would Discover Penn. Interesting.

A little Googling led me to a site from Facilities and Real Estate Services that shows a map of all the sites that have a Discover Penn sign. I decided to call the number and listen to the descriptions of all the locations if not to learn more about Penn, then to listen to Amy Gutmann’s smooth voice.

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Voting is sexy...and civic!

“Vote or Die.”

I wholly agree, sir.

“Rock the vote.”

I think I will.

“Get the fuck out and vote.”

Okay!

Whether you’ve elected to Barack the Vote or Drill Baby Drill is up to you. But if I find out you just couldn’t make it to your polling place or the line was too long or you got arrested for intimidating other voters, I think less of you.

The second most unsettling political expression I’ve heard this semester is “Don’t Vote.” (The first? A serious statement that “Obama is a Muslim,” said on Locust Walk.) And while I’m not happy that I heard it here on The Spin, this nasty little “Don’t vote if unless you ‘get it’” argument is alive and well all over the country.

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Halloween, Old Hallows Eve, was historically the night before All Hallows’ Day, or All Saints’ Day.  It was a time of religious festivities, and the Church celebrated the day as the Vigil of All Saints.

In a strategic move to modernize the Church, Pope Benedict XVI anounced last week at a press conference that, starting this year, the outdated vigil will be replaced by a world-wide costume competition. Pope Benedict urges all members of the Catholic church to “go all-out, be creative, and really try to get as sexy as humanly possible.”

He recommends costumes like the “naughty nun,” “Adam and Eve,” and his personal favorite, the “angel fantasy adult costume.”

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Italian Market

With Parents’ Weekend close behind us, people may be wondering about what to do with their parents next year.

Nah, I’m just kidding. You have too much other stuff to be thinking about.

As a junior, I’d say this is the first time I’ve taken advantage of the designated weekend in which I am encouraged to invite my parents to my home away from home (unless you count freshman year when they came to campus and we went to Greek Lady and I showed them my room in the Quad/Fisher Fine Arts).

Oh no… This year I pulled out all of the stops, and for those of you who spent your time at FamPAN or tent shopping on Locust, hold on to your knickers.

For old time’s sake, the weekend began at Greek Lady, and from then on, Penn had absolutely nothing to do with my weekend family-and-food adventure.

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Sniff sniff. Smell that?

No, it’s not the aftermath of your rommate’s epic trip to the bathroom. It’s the unmistakable smell of tension. For those living under a rock or in Gregory College House: the hometown Phillies are in the World Series, and the election is rapidly approaching.

With those two major events, concerns have risen regarding the response to their outcomes. Being the peace-loving individual that I am, I’d like to address anyone who is thinking of reenacting the climactic scene of Do the Right Thing.

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College. It’s said to be the most selfish time. You’re wrapped in the minutia of your personal life- what you’ll eat for breakfast, what you’ll get on your econ exam, what you’ll do on Saturday night and what you’ll wear when you do it. It’s so easy for us to fall into that dark, narcissistic pit. We seem to fit so perfectly inside our snug, egocentric cocoons.

But then why is the metamorphosis so agonizing? If leaving the nest is an organic, meant-to-be kind of thing, then why is it so scary, challenging and painful?

When you’re young, you’re not expected to fend for yourself. Someone else cleans and bandages your scraped knees.  Someone rubs your tummy and makes you tea as you contentedly watch Full House reruns. Someone is ready with a tissue to dry your tears.  And when you mess up, someone is there to reassure you that it’ll all work out.

And it’s not until those magical helping hands disappear that we begin to miss them.

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Know where this is?

Now that I’m in a new place, I have a lot of ground to cover.

In Madrid, there are parks, museums, bars, monuments, etc. to visit. (If you’re coming anytime soon, visiting Parque del Retiro and Reina Sofia is a must.)

Moving to a new city requires an effort similar to that of learning one’s new apartment, whether it be “Sweet, my shower pressure is like stepping into the kingdom above” or “Erm, Roommate, do you see this giant hole in the shower wall?” (True story.)

You have to explore every nook and cranny, or otherwise you didn’t really live there.

So why is it that I constantly hear of Penn juniors and seniors who have never taken the trolley?

Spending four years in one place implies that one should know said place, including said place’s transit system. Did you know that the trolley existed? Did you know it has stops between 15th and 30th streets, that dark abyss virtually unknown to Penn students? (more…)