To the girl in my creative writing class who wrote her personal essay about how hard it is to be beautiful: Would it help if I told you that you're not actually that pretty? and that your personality kinda sucks too? Feel better now? I do.
To the obnoxious Theta girls who used their Blackberrys to win Greek Week Academic Bowl: Thank God you guys won the Qdoba gift certificates cause you need all the food you can get.
To the girl on 4th floor Warwick who never flushes the toilet: That whole "let it mellow" wisdom definitely does not apply to dorm bathrooms. Take the two seconds necessary to push the little lever, and please God drink some water while you're at it, you dehydrated ass hat.
To TEP Senior: Please reenact sophomore year and get hit by a car so we can finally beat you in Quizzo.
Thanks, Team SDT.
To the DP: When your front page news includes "Hey guess what happened last year on Halloween?" and "How to Crank dat Soulja," it may be time to consider changing your name to "We'll let you know when there is real news, the crossword and sudoku are on page 14" Pennsylvanian. (PS: any thoughts about adding a word search?)
To all the girls that have put up their slutty Halloween pictures on Facebook: Thanks, I'll be typing with one hand this week.
To my drug dealer: You always cheat me, but I keep coming back. Does that make it love?
To the rhetorical question answerer in Engl 055: When you giggle I can't help but equate you with child molesters and people who drink Fanta and like it.
To my boyfriend's parents (who will read this since they are lame enough to get the DP every day): I have never met a more socially awkward, cold and unintelligent pair of adults in my life. If your darling son wasn't so good in bed, I would have dumped his ass months ago. Thanks for being assholes. PS - I keyed your car.
To my freshman stalker: Life isn't the same without your away messages. Please sign on to AIM, one more time. I need the comic relief.
To the guy I don't remember meeting: I didn't have my contacts in when you left this morning. Are you cute? Call me.
To the sophomore who imitated a certain French landmark during finals last spring: Don't think that this school forgot about that little stunt. Or that it EVER will.
To G Money: Your feet smell terrible. I'm going to stab you like that guy did if you don't buy some goddamn foot powder. I'm not kidding. I will kill your face.
To the Senior Class Gift Drive: Unless that gift is a naked hot tub party, you aren't getting a damn cent from me (08). PS- You stole your logo from the AIDS campaign, how does that feel?
To the girl who dressed up as boxed-wine for Halloween: I'll slap your bag all night long.
To my LinAlg Prof: I want my eight-dimensional column vector to be an element in your subspace.
To the Penn Band: Stop playing Bon Jovi and play more Final Countdown, and then play some more Final Countdown. Joey Tempest > New Jersey.
To the Wharton senior with a hygiene complex: No, I will NOT shower before we hook up. Or brush my teeth. FYI Purell is not lube.
To the kid with the guitar on 7th floor Harrison: My idea of relaxation is not listening to your fucking annoying Peter Brady voice. Just give up, you suck.
To the AEPi junior in my Urban Soci class: Take off the sweatband. You are not nearly cool enough to pull it off. And your friend, the class schedule keeper, sucks at life too.
To the big-haired Tri-Delt who was called out in the Sweeper and was crying about it on the front porch of Beta: The 34th Street editorial staff was on the next porch. It could not have been more awkward. or more perfect.
To Sigma Nu: The worst.
To Phi Psi: You owe me a steak knife. And while you're at it, learn some math. One plus one plus one does not equal 2.5.
To the girl attempting to get Phi Psi's steak knives: If at first you don't succeed, try, try again.
To the 42nd St. Party Crasher / Floor Humper: Thanks for the memories. And the videotape.
To Sphinx: Super cool embroidered polo shirts!! Your logo looks like the Lion King. Love, Friars.
To the Friar that wrote that last shoutout: The Editor in Chief of Street is a Sphinx so SUCK IT!
To secret senior societies: Stop shouting each other out. It's weird, lame and nobody cares. Love, the secretest secret society EVER!
To the DP Sports writers: Even though your athletic careers ended after little league, could you at least root for Penn athletics in our own goddamn newspaper instead of trash talking us? You uncoordinated freaks.Thanks, Penn Athletes.
To the sophomores in Beta who love each other more than girls: Get over it. You're not Kappa Sig.
To the sophomore girl who got hospitalized after Las Cazuelas last year: IT'S NOT LEMONADE, YOU FUCKING IDIOT.
To the beautiful blue-eyed Greek guy who worked at the front desk in Harrison: I'll be your Greek Lady if you'll be my gyro. Tzatziki!
To Theta: I say ignore your plumber's advice and go back to puking, you've all gotten fatter and uglier.
To bras: Thank you for supporting me all these years.
To Dzine2Show: You are a mess.
To the guy in my ConLaw Recitation: If you get your lisp fixed, maybe people will start paying attention to you. Nope, you're still dumb.
To Cameron Smalls: Come back!!
To girls at Penn: I used to think it was hard to touch your nose with your tongue... then I saw you.
To Penn Girls, this is you, head-to-toe:
Shempetta Hair
Primordial/Cro Magnon FOREHEAD
Cable Box Head
Bobbling Head
Shifty Bugg Eyes
Cinderblock Hook Nose
Putty Bee-Stung Nose
Foggy Teeth
Count Chocula Snaggle Teeth
Gargoyle Smile
Gefilte Fish Breath
Lagoon Creature Breath
Barrel Neck
Sagging Wet Blanket Tits
Turkey Tits
Rusty Door Knob Tits
Tree Trunk Sternum
Drooping Stomach
Exploding Hips
9/11 Ass
Hockey Player Thighs
Claw Hands
Wild Jungle Bush
UGG Boot Hidden Kankles
Gremlin Toes
Coat Rack Personality
... Did I miss anything?
(Editor's Note: We think this is really weird too, but someone took the time to write it and we respect that. Suggestions: read aloud and in funny voices!!!)
To the toddler playing in the basement of Van Pelt: You're making us all smile :)
To the girl my friend lost his virginity to: Thanks for turning my friend off of sex for the rest of his life. Not many people can claim that they completely killed a young man's sex drive.
To St. A's: Hope you enjoyed the steamy gift we left on your couch that you left on Locust. Sorry your Daddy wasn't there to clean it up for you, maybe he'll send a check to get it cleaned. Love, The Cleveland Steamers.
To our screenwriting teacher: Here's one shout out that doesn't mention semen or cocaine. Wait.
To Tri Delt: Heard Phi Delt's got a 9-week streak going in your "Frat of the Week" surveys during chapter meetings. Congrats on officially becoming the least self-respecting people on campus. PS: Beta step it up, Phi Delt should not be kicking your ass so hard.
To the lesbian house dean: We totally support you, but did we really need to know that you enjoy "eating out" as one of your hobbies? No thanks for the visual - The Staff
To the flamer sashaying out of Rodin in red high heels: You were so pretty and graceful. Teach us? - Alpha Phi
To some girl in the Quad: It was raining and I stole your umbrella. I wanted to return it but I left it at a frat party. Sorry. Don't keep umbrellas in the hallway.
To the girl who shat her pants on Baltimore last year: You may have gone away for the semester, but that doesn't mean we aren't still laughing at you.
To the guy in the Castle whose girlfriend got double teamed by Skulls: Whammy!
To University City Housing: We have mice, squirrels and cockroaches in our apartment and you do not seem to really care. The roof leaks. I imagine that you sit in a large room with piles and piles of our rent money laughing. Laugh now, but you are going straight to hell. PS: can you please turn on our heat? Spanx.
To my across-the-street neighbors who incidentally are a small Asian family with two young children: On behalf of my house and my next-door neighbors, the Beta off-campus, we would just like to say. we're sorry the real estate agents tricked you, but dang, they got you good.
To the kids who ride around on unicycles: A) there are no bicycles on the walk between 9-5, that includes you, too B) for all the effort that you are putting into riding that silly thing, you are probably going slower than if you were just walking C) you look dumb D) and you're creepy.
To the kids who practice tight-rope walking on the Green: Please refer to the previous shout-out parts C and D. They apply to you too.
To a capella at Penn: If you could sing as well as the artists whose songs you cover, you would be famous already. Stop ruining perfectly good songs by singing them out of tune.
To the Greek Lady: Way to lose thousands of dollars by closing early on the weekends. Now people are eating your food while sober and realizing that french fries inside a gyro makes no sense at all if you're not drunk. None.
To the guy who stole my router at a party: Really?
To the guy whose Teach For America interview lesson about ethanol turned into a lecture on chugging alcohol and Molotov cocktails: Seriously? This is what inner-city students need to learn? You're a douche.
To Beta: Dignity, unlike torn-up Hanes t-shirts, does not come cheap or appear at theme parties. Develop some character or transfer to USC.
To the boy behind me in the 3rd floor stacks who hocks a loogie every 5 seconds and swallows it: MAYBE IF YOU DIDN'T SUCK UP YOUR BOOGERS, YOU WOULDN'T ANNOY EVERYONE WITH YOUR WHOOPING COUGH.
To the Curry Chicken Sandwich from Bucks: I see you every time I close my eyes, even if you do end up in between my thighs.
To that freshman girl in CMS: I think you're absolutely adorable. I wish they made fluffy plush toys of you.
To the girl I'm genuinely embarrassed to admit I was once friends with: Your downward spiral at the end of last year was worthy of one of those Lifetime movies we all had to watch for health class. When will you realize there's nobody left who likes you enough to walk your chain-smoking fat ass back from Marbar anymore?
To the wind tunnel: Blow me.
To the crane on top of the Radian: You're the skinniest girl on campus.
To the Spring Fling committee: Here are some better suggestions for this year's theme: Put your Finger up my Fling, I Fling Both Ways, Fling Boot and Rally. Was that so hard? You're welcome. Signed, Everyone who knows what Fling is really about.
To the Penn alum responding to the golddigger on Craigslist: Debating sexual politics with a whore is like teabagging a Beta - they'll grab you by the balls and like it.
To the brothers of HOZ: Is the H silent? Is it a whisper H? Or is it just the sound you make when you're snorting? We're still so confused.
To Penn Facilities: I've tried reporting flooding, fires, bio contaminants and all but one of the ten plagues, and you still won't fix my damn broken drain pipe. Death of the firstborn it is, then.
To Seniors: Celebr(08) is Asin(09). -Juniors
To EMS sporting goods store: Having a free for all, gift-giving opening week does not change the fact that you are trying to sell MOUNTAIN SPORTS EQUIPMENT to urban socialites who are surrounded by CONCRETE not NATURE.
To Penn Spectaguards: We walked around for like an hour, and then the lady wouldn't even come up to my room. Shittiest escort service ever.
To the trees on Pine Street: Why do you smell like cum?
To the sick fuck who has been leaving sealed bottles of urine in random Ware hallways: Better in the bottle than on the ground. But what the hell? Also, it looks like you might be seriously dehydrated.
To Dumbledore: There's free printing at the LGBT center. Just sayin'.
To senior girls with jobs: Congratulations. You were destined for Wall Street, a fact I know well from the past three years of tolerating your insipid company, pathological materialism and runner-up trophy wife aesthetics. But how about paying your own fucking bar tabs now??
To Kappa Sig: Country music, cheap beer and inflatable playgrounds make you look less like an Ivy League frat than contestants on To Catch a Predator. Sorry no eight-year-old boys turned up to play on your monkey bars. Did you put out the wine coolers?
To the guys in Skulls: More people would actually like your house if none of you were in it.
To the Dominican Owls Senior: Baby got phat.
Dear asshole who stole my bike from Pi Lam: I know what you look like. I saw you riding it the other day. I hope you fucking get caught in the trolley tracks on 42nd street and a car runs you over and I see you bleeding, light a cigarette and put it out in your eye.
To the pregnant-looking girl in the Quad: We're afraid to say anything in case you're just malnourished. Either way, hope that works out for you.
To Aramark: I'd rather lick Ben Franklin's bench from top to bottom than buy another meal plan. Tough to say which one brings us in closer contact with piss.
To double beds: Change your fucking name. You don't fit two people.
To my hall bicycle: You're actually really attractive, so why the revolving door? It's a huge pain in my ass (and yours too?) to get condoms just for you. Hotdog down a hallway, or what? Love, your RA.
To the really mean Quad security guard: I'd say "bite me," but I'm afraid you might.
To the Gingerbread man from Street Sweeper: I too enjoy painting the campus with an endless stream of urine. Facebook me. Love, Bright Lights from 1st floor Baird.
To the Executive Editor of the DP: I stopped working at the DP because you turned me on. My columns took thrice as long to edit because I was busy fantasizing about your gorgeous eyes and ruffled hair and everything below. You made my keyboard tingle. (Can you tell him anyway in case this doesn't make it to the magazine?)
To my ex-boyfriend who decided to dump me after a year because I'm not Indian like you, and your family didn't approve: Karma's a bitch. Enjoy your arranged marriage sucker.
To an Owls "senior": How do you say public self-destruction in Japanese? PS - The white IBX stickers are easier to peel off.
To Street Sweeper: The only thing sadder than someone taking the time to write that crap is the fact that people actually take it seriously. Go work for the New York Post.
To Michael Eric Dyson: Fine. We didn't like you either. No, really.
To Asian tourists: Why do you take pictures of squirrels?
To the guy putting ketchup on his banana in Wynn Commons: Do you know something we don't?
To Penn Football: Ming Dynasty > Penn Football Dynasty.
To my Pennemy: You're a bitch and I hate you, but mostly I just want to make 'pennemy' happen.
To my roommate who keeps hiding gourds in my bed: I'd put them back in yours if I didn't think you'd enjoy it so much.
To the ugly, stupid girl who played bad music and didn't talk to anyone except her "awesome" roommate freshman year: We tried to put a stinky cheese log under your bed one night, but unfortunately no one was friendly enough with you to sneak it into your room. HA!
To apologies@pobox.upenn.edu: I'm so not sorry.
To the squirrel that lives in my house: Thanks for leaving that apple core on my bed. I apologize now for trying to kill you.
To the mice that live in my house: The squirrel leaves me gifts. What do you have for me?
To my McKinsey interviewer: Here's the case - a dollar bill is 3x7 in. and you cannot fold it more than seven times. Assume that the population of the United States is approximately 300 million people. How many dollar bills can my father shove up your ass to get me this job? Take a moment to collect your thoughts.
To part-time student status: Thank you so much for getting me the money to buy my dream segway.
To my wasted potential: Whoops.
To the Castle: When the coolest kid in your pledge class decides not to join, you know your house blows. Stop pretending anyone would even talk to you "dodes" if you weren't bouncing at Smoke's.
To the South African Spinning Instructor: When you say 'butt' with your accent, I lose concentration.
To the wrestler that pinned a Harvard opponent in 35 seconds last year: you can wrestle me any time you want and I'll go down as easily as he did.
To Birthright coordinators: I know I'm chosen but please choose to take me off your listserv.
To Alternate Spring Break: I'm going to Cancun. To get shitfaced. But I'll be wearing a white "Save Darfur" t-shirt in the wet t-shirt contest.
To Tila Tequila: Thank you for everything.
To the Theta Senior Class: As we enter the future, we probably won't remember your 23 inch waist, but we will never forget your horrific personalities. No one has ever been less fun than you.
To the Street Photo Editor who quit on the night of our deadline: Ya dumb. PS - Thanks for saving our staff photo. not.
To the people who send in really bad shout-outs without creating a fake Gmail account: Know that we look you up and make fun of you when we find out who you are.
