I always loved the French language. Its melodic rhythms and complicated verb connotations excited me.

I was distraught when French AP was canceled my senior year of high school due to lack of student interest, but I consoled myself with the thought that college French would be better anyway.

I purposely refused to study for the placement exam, thinking that the early French classes would be enriching refresher courses. I looked forward to study-abroad and a possible French minor.

Penn ruined French for me before class even started.

French 121 met every day, dashing my hopes for a class-free Friday and complicating my already daunting schedule. I suffered through the mind-numbing workbook assignments and ludicrous class activities of the entry-level course.

For my final project, I spent hours upon hours struggling to make a travel slideshow that did little to teach me the language but much to create within me an intense abhorrence of the iMovie program. I eagerly awaited the more advanced French 130. I had high hopes.

These hopes were dashed almost instantaneously when it was announced that throughout the semester we would be acting as characters living in an apartment building.

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“Politically correct” terms are hardly found in other countries, but the US has become obsessed with using “non-offensive” terminology.

Like the case of the metric system, I think the US needs to follow the example of the rest of the world and ditch this crazy language system for the following reasons:

1. They can sound just as offensive.  The most obvious example to me is that of “little person” rather than “midget.” “Little person” seems condescending; why not just call them itsy-bitsy?

2. They are confusing and ambiguous. When I hear the term “differently abled” I think of someone who’s good at soccer but not football, not someone who’s mentally disabled. And then there’s terms like African American (yes, I’m going there). Is a black person whose parents were from Haiti still African American? If a black person moves to Sweden are they now African-Swedish? Or African-American-Swedish? We call white people white, so can’t black people just be black again?

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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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From dormitories built by world-renowned architects to top of the line dining facilities and gyms to scores upon scores of performances and activities, a modern university is more like a luxury resort than an institute of higher learning.

College is a time of fun and experimentation, a time to let loose, drink up, sleep late, and forget all the troubles afflicting the “real world.” College is a four year, all-inclusive, leisure vacation.

Everything we could ever want is at our fingertips.  Looking for museums? Theatrical performances? Rock walls? Yeah, we got those.

Even nightlife is included! Frats aren’t just places of brotherhood anymore; they’re competitive nightclubs that provide liquor gratis and allow all manner of raunchy and provocative behavior.

When kids are choosing a college or university, the standard of education is still somewhat important, but students are starting to look at other factors as well. (What’s the campus like? What kind of activities are there? How big will my dorm room be? Are there a lot of hot chicks? How easy is it to score coke?)

And each college is ready with its pitch as to why your “experience” will be better at their institution than anywhere else.

We’re living the high life right now. Our biggest worries are our midterm grades and whether or not we can go to MarBar and still wake up for our 11:30 a.m. recitation. So stop worrying about your grade on that midterm, put down your books, and go experience.

1. Every single issue is exactly the same. Looking at a year’s worth of covers, August 2007- August 2008, every new issue will apparently teach me the wonders of sex.  In April I can learn how to be a “SEX genius,” in May all my “Naughtiest SEX Q&A” will be answered, and if I flip back to January I will find out the secrets of “DIRTY SEXY SEX.”

Of course, I can find comfort in the variation between issues in the beauty section.  Some will provide insight on “fab hair” while in others the focus is really more on “bed-me eyes.”

2. It’s demeaning to women. This really shouldn’t require an explanation, but what the hell.  Men get awesome magazines like Esquire, that, while still indulging in articles about beautiful women and alcohol, manage to fill a good portion of the magazine with meaningful and witty articles. I am a woman. I enjoy more than eyeliner, celebrity gossip, and giving amazing blow jobs. Which brings me to my next point…

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“REGister to vote CHANGE of address… REGister to vote CHANGE of address…”

These words (cried loudly but listlessly by a middle-aged black woman at the end of Locust Walk) have haunted me the past few weeks. Like me, you’ve probably been bombarded with advertising of all media crying out for you to register to vote: posters, signs, flyers, even facebook groups and photos.  

A focus on registering citizens to vote is much more widespread than just the Penn campus.  That’s a good thing, because we should all vote, right?  

Wrong.

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I don’t want to be a lawyer. I don’t want to be a doctor, or an engineer, or a business executive. I don’t want to ever be required to wear a suit or a uniform. I don’t want to wake up early. I don’t want to be rich, powerful, or important.

Why the hell am I here?

What is Lil’ Miss Undecided doing walking among masses of students who have known from the age of six that they want to be a nurse, or own their own company, or work as a criminal justice lawyer? I can’t measure up to them! I can’t walk with that same self-assured gait, confident in my destiny and my place in the world. My laugh doesn’t ring with that sound of jingling coins that alludes to the prospect of financial security.

Did I really need to come to Penn to do whatever I end up doing? Have $200,000 gone to waste?

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Fountain of knowledge, keeper of wisdom, I thank thee for thy bounty and thy grace.

For you have stayed beside me throughout my years of folly (of which there have been many), delivering me from uncertainty and ignorance.  When I was low, you helped me rise up, provided me with insight, sagaciousness, understanding.  For this, I thank you, urbandictionary.com, for I would be lost without you.

As a pre-adolescent, I needed guidance, and you were there. My naivete was vast: I thought head was what came after neck.  But you were with me to turn my gaze downward, and I was grateful.

As a teenager, I looked to you to keep me informed about the goings-on of my classmates.  I no longer contemplated in vain the meanings of phrases detonating sexual conquest, or wondered how much dosh I need to get a dubsack.

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See how awkward long distance relationships can be?

After passing a steamy summer hooking up in your friends’ parents’ beds and taking photos of yourselves kissing, all you college-age couples are being forced to decide whether or not your bond is strong enough to graduate to a long distance relationship. I’ve compiled list of telltale signs that a fling is just a fling, with some tips I managed to pick up in all those US history classes.

1. Someone becomes too controlling. College is your time to be independent; don’t let anyone tell you what you can and can’t do. America didn’t stand for it when her first boyfriend, Great Britain, started to control her. Even though they had so much in common, she decided that she needed to break free and “just be single for a while.”

2. One partner develops a wandering eye. If your relationship isn’t strong to begin with, lusting after others in your area is almost inevitable. America first began eyeing her neighbor Louisiana while involved in a casual rebound with France after her messy split from England.

3. The relationship is one-sided. Don’t let yourself remain dedicated to a long distance partner if they won’t show you the same respect. After America dated hunky bad boy Vietnam, she was left feeling like she had given everything, and gotten very little in return.

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You’re a sophomore at Council Rock High School North living in quaint Bucks County, Pennsylvania. You’re bored.

By the time you reach fifteen, alcohol is old news.

You experiment with some marijuana, dabble in some DXM from a half-bottle of Robitussin left over from when your little brother had a cold,  and begin your high-school-long quest for a “totally awesome high.”

You want something stronger, but not too hardcore. There’s no way you’re trying coke (your friend’s cousin tried it once and had a massive heart attack and died) and you’re afraid that the guy outside of the Wawa near your house is going to shank you if you ask him again where you can get some OxyContin.  You don’t have much hope.

But then, one day, as you are casually browsing the inter-web (read: googling “buying drugs online”) you find it.

Snurf.

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