The desserts at new sweets truck Sugarcube are tasty.  

I walked into a seminar last week and no one had any paper.  

I recently asked a friend if she knew a guy I’d met.  

As the garbage trucks roll through West Philadelphia at 6:30 a.m., John MacDuffie Woodburn is roaming the streets on his bike.  

August calls itself “a twist on classic Italian.” In a sense, August succeeds in its twisting, but a more accurate description might be “improving.” At August, you’ll find all the usual suspects that lurk at the typical Italian Center City BYOB: the arugula and radicchio salad, the artichoke hearts, the almond-crusted salmon, the rigatoni bolognese.  

Unless you’re majoring in chemistry, odds are you can’t make much sense of the ingredients on the label of that nasal decongestant sitting in your medicine cabinet.  

Despite his overt anti-Semitic tendencies, there’s something undeniably irresistible about Mel Gibson shaving his legs.  

A real live Ivy League-endorsed major sounded so glamorous.  

“Hey.” When I visited Penn as a junior in high school, my tour guide leaped at each chance to brand Penn “the social Ivy.” We all understood, according to legend, that the parties would be abundant and the nights out would outnumber the nights in.  

As the spring term comes to a close, the books disappear and the party begins.