Scenes from the Philadelphia Marathon.

I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m a YouTube addict.

I mean, it’s simply amazing. Where else can I watch obscure music videos that only I remember? Where else can I revel in the absurdity and hype of the latest viral phenomenon?

Where else can I waste hours of my life that would be better spent on actual productive work? (Okay, so maybe that part isn’t so amazing, but still, you get the point. I love YouTube.)

Which is why the latest news regarding my beloved companion saddens me greatly.

UPenn and other schools creating their own YouTube accounts? No. That’s just not right.

YouTube was my gateway to the guilty pleasure of procrastination. My escape from the harsh and cruel world of academic responsibility. Now it’s decided to become part of that evil system? Looks like the Man has finally held it down.

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I know the historic D-Day (you know, the one with all the heroism, medals and movies about it) was June 6, 1944. But in my own exceedingly self-centered world (Susanville, if you will) the new D-day is December 8, 2008.

Why?  Because that’s when the South Street Bridge closes.

As a member of the Penn softball-playing race, let me say that the South Street Bridge can only be described as the sole, life-giving artery that connects civilization (my humble abode on 41st street) with distant savage lands (Warren Field).

While I knew that the bridge closing was looming in the future, my heart still sank when I got the e-mail and read about the “24-month project.” Nice try, Philadelphia: I know that really means two years, and by two years I mean three to five.

The Chinese did the Great Wall in, like, a few centuries; can’t we knock out this bridge project in a summer? Read the rest of this entry »

Image via Wikipedia

One piece of advice: before you do something — anything — please try to take some time to sit down in a quiet room, relax, and really think to yourself: “What are some potential consequences of my actions?”

I only say this because this week, I’ve noticed a lot of stories in the news about people doing some extremely stupid shit that could probably have been easily avoided.

It all started with Georgia Congressman Paul Broun, who claimed that President-elect Barack Obama may turn this country into a dictatorship much like Nazi Germany, policed by a “Gestapo-like security force.” He warned the country by saying,

“We can’t be lulled into complacency … You have to remember that Adolf Hitler was elected in a democratic Germany. I’m not comparing him to Adolf Hitler. What I’m saying is there is the potential of going down that road.”

You may not claim you’re not making a comparison, but saying the name of your new president and the name of the man who murdered six million Jews in WWII in the same sentence probably won’t get you any positive press anytime soon. Good luck living with that gaffe for the rest of your life.

Then, there was this news story from Idaho, which reported that second and third graders were caught chanting “Assassinate Obama” while riding their school bus.

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Thank you, whoever Photoshopped this picture.

In my last post before Thanksgiving, I thought it would be fitting to write about, well, Thanksgiving.

I’m not going to complain about how I have three papers to write over the break because that’s so cliché (but I seriously do have three papers to write). Instead, I’m going to write about a couple things I’m thankful for. Because that’s not cliché.

First of all, I am thankful for the new CVS that opened in the Radian. I no longer have to walk the four scary blocks to your other store on 43rd Street or trek the wretched six blocks to your evil twin on 34th.

Also, I am thankful for the nurse who gave me a Gardasil shot yesterday. You have restored my faith in Student Health, since the nurse who gave me a flu shot last week bruised my arm and made me bleed.

Thank you to PerezHilton.com for always giving me an excellent medium for procrastination. And also for posts like this.

And finally, thank you to the astronaut who lost her tool bag during a space walk. You make my typos seem so insignificant.

Whore?

Dear World,

I believe the trouble began with anime porn.

Apparently, human beings were growing so increasingly dissatisfied with sex and so ever-more infatuated with Tiny Tunes that the next step had become obvious: combine the two to form one dysfunctional fetish. Pokémon enthusiasts were thrilled: if a 10 year-old androgynous ball collector could get laid, maybe there would be hope for them!

And for the most part they failed.

And here, World, is where you really began to go astray.

These socially-inept losers somehow managed to discover a way to engage in a wildly fulfilling sex life instead of just watching cartoons with poorly coordinated voice-overs.

Enter Second Life.

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I need a babysitter.

Not for my kid. No, my kid is doing fine.

I need a babysitter for me. And I need one, well, I needed one just yesterday morning.

And so I’m here to openly give a new business idea to an (overly) ambitious Penn student: Penn Oversleeping Prevention Services (POPS).

You see, oversleeping is a major problem on our campus. We work hard. We play hard. And so we sleep a bit too hard sometimes.

For me in particular, oversleeping is a major problem. In the midst of a rough damn-near zero hours of sleep week, I missed my… 1:30 pm class. That’s right. I woke up at the classy hour of 4:30 pm. In the process I missed an oral presentation (whups…), office hours, and the deadline for the very blog you are reading now.

True, all of this could have been avoided with better time management, but that’s not going to happen for any of us. And there are probably other ways I could work on not oversleeping so severely and detrimentally. But, as they say, a lifestyle is a terrible thing to waste.

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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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The day after Penn fell to Drexel by two, it seems like we could all use a feel good, Rudy-esque basketball story. Penn, meet 73 year old Ken Mink: he is your Rudy.

Kind of.

Standing an even six feet and weighing in at 190 pounds, Mr. Mink might just be the septuagenarian maverick we’ve heard so much about.  Kicked off of his own college team (Lees College, if you’re wondering) for an incident involving either the use of shaving cream or soap (sources disagree) to vandalize his coach’s office, Mink has taken to the courts again to finish out his college career.

I would like to pause here and note that unless that shaving cream or soap was anthrax-laden, and “coach’s office” really means some kind of federal agency, dismissal from the team seems a little harsh.  Just sayin’.

Anyway, at 73 he’s looking for closure to that fateful season 53 years ago, and with a spot on the Roane State Junior College team, he’s put himself in a position to get it.

That’s all well and good, but the man is 73.

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