Worst place for a Penn kid to "act black": Du Bois College House
Picture this: it's Friday night and you and your whodis just blazed up a fatass optimo blunt filled with your finest cheba. After slurpin' down the last of your purple drank and Hypnotiq, you decide you want to holla at some thick bitties ... I'm talking 'bout nothing but 36-24-36. So, you roll over from your frat house to Dubizzle in the hopes of makin' it rain on some skeet ho, but along the way you stop and ask a Specta Guard, "Yo Cuz, you got a loosy I could cop?" He stares at you and laughs at your popped collar and upside down visor, but you give him a pound anyways, 'cuz you keepin' it real. You finally make it to Du Bois only to realize that: a) not all black people fit the outlandish and demeaning caricature illustrated by your sheltered view of popular culture, b) by deriving pleasure from this stereotype you are, in effect, propagating an institutionalized system of subjugation that is as damaging as it is incorrect and c) these lame-ass bitches ain't doin' nothin' but studying. Shit. You should just go back to the house and watch some more Chappelle Show.
Worst way to get an std: Penncard
This really happened to someone's cousin's roommate's girlfriend's brother. He didn't think it could happen to him either ... until one day it started to burn when he peed and he realized that the closest thing he had to a sexual encounter was handing his Penncard to the lady in the Starbucks under Commons before going home to jerk off. Turns out Starbucks does give out free samples after all. Seriously, next time you use your Penncard with someone you don't know without protection, Purell the shit out of that thing the moment they hand it back, right in front of them. Or wash your hands prior to all sexual acts involving plastic objects. Keep the clap to yourself by going out and Bursar-ing some condoms. And definitely don't take your Penncard to Wizzard's: they won't put that lap dance on PennCash no matter how many times you swipe down there.
Worst inanimate object to have sex with: the "Hand Gate" outside of Charles
addams
Clearly, this gate offers a lot of tempting variety. How can you explain why you chose "hand with microphone" over "hand with chisel" to poke your cooter with? Do yourself a favor and wave goodbye to "hand waving goodbye." Besides, is it really worth the extra tetanus shot? "Hand with staple gun" might think so, but your pledges most certainly do not. And if you're among the few (i.e. freshmen) who haven't yet encountered this Eden's apple of sculpture as the gates to artland, count yourself lucky: the Hand-Gate has been lying in the garden all year and we can only imagine what must have happened during last summer session. What stories you could tell, "hands holding camera" ... what stories you could tell.
Worst place to get a boner (aka hard-on aka woodrow wilson aka cocking up): Pottruck treadmill
The scene: Pat Benatar's "Hit Me With Your Best Shot" just came on the Shuffle. Judge Joe Brown is playing on the Pottruck television. The treadmill is on a steady 7.2 speed. You've been making eyes with the Jewess on the StairMaster for 11 minutes and 23 seconds. She's into it. Increase incline to 3. And then it happens. Fuck. It must be these damn Under Armour boxer-briefs. They feel too right. What should you do? You can't "grab your keys" - there aren't any pockets. If you try to pull an "elastic wasteband tuck" at this speed, you might injure yourself - or worse, expose yourself. You try to look around like everything's normal. You turn towards the Jewess who now looks not only disgusted, but concerned as you run hunchbacked. You look away and catch the intent gaze and a smile from "dude on the elliptical." Luckily the shower of sweat you get from the fat guy in front of you leaves your turgid vine wilted. Exhale in relief.
worst method of birth control: Frogro grocery bag
So, things are starting to get hot. Seems that girl from the TEP late night -- the one with the butch haircut and serious double-Ds (maybe double C's, B's . I don't know, she had boobs) - was receptive to your "kilo" scented Axe body spray. She stumbles back to your dorm. Your roommate's there, but he seems pretty caught up in World of Warcraft. Two and a half minutes of heavy petting later, you're ready to go for the gold. She asks if you have a condom. You say no. She seems reluctant. You think fast. "It's cool babe," you say. "I picked up Hot Pockets from Fro-Gro earlier, and I still have the grocery bag." She seems confused. "It's just like latex, baby. Trust me, I'm pre-med." You add, "And I love you." Play on.
worst job
after college:
Sorority field consultant
Get your black pumps and slacks out of storage and shine up your pin because you're on your way to becoming one of the most hated women in the eyes of 130+ college females. Job description: visiting chapters of "sisters" and "evaluating" their "policies" and "practices." But obviously, you, like, have to, like, talk about the sister's cute new designer bustier or how fat Britney looks after she got out of rehab. And of course there's those great networking opportunities, like meeting that woman at the convention who created those control-top panties so you look really hot in that new high-waisted skirt look they're showing. So basically your job entails schlepping to a new school every five days to see if they're holding hands or not at chapter. Beats international day trading or oncology. Yeah, you're set for life!
