(Illustrations by Faryn Pearl)
There are two types of people at Penn: Those who read Shoutouts and those who can’t read.
Shoutouts are a universal holiday commemorating the 99% literacy rate in America.
Imagine, if you will, a Thanksgiving that offends everyone equally; a Christmas unexploited by Hallmark; a Hannukah that includes that other 10% of campus; a Kwanzaa understood by all; and a New Year’s that happens twice a year. Yeah, Shoutouts.
Here’s how some of us celebrated in the past few years:
To the only other person who’s had sex under the Button, on the Button, through a hole in the Button, on top of the Love sculpture, in the Blarney bathroom, at the top of 38th Street bridge and on the 8th floor of Huntsman: What a fucking year. Happy Anniversary, baby!
To the girls with the stripper pole right by your window: Just know that we skip Shabbat dinner every week to watch your sexy Friday night show. Keep it up, because we sure are. Love, AEPi.
To the unfortunate girl at the black light party on 40th: Sorry, I didn’t know cum shows up on skin.
To my roommate’s long–distance boyfriend: Please come back soon so she’ll shave her legs.