Worst Place to End it All:
Trader Joe's
So, you've finally had enough of this cruel world. Life is nothing but painful and meaningless, and your dark thoughts are getting the better of you. You're going to do it, you're going to jump off. but wait, off of Trader Joe's? Be reasonable for a second. Before we get a chance to draw the parallels between your splatter on the sidewalk with those tacky Hawaiian shirts that their employees wear, why don't you stop inside. Have you tried the Trader Joe's smoky black bean dip? My guess is no, because you'd think twice about killing yourself after dipping a couple chips into this stuff, and did I mention that it's fat free and only $1.49? Maybe dips aren't your thing; how about the frozen banana waffles? If these aren't reasons to continue living, I don't know what is. I'd recommend finding somewhere else to do it. Somewhere where the produce isn't fresh, the selections are limited and everything is overpriced - a place like that might even make me want to kill myself.
Worst Place to Have an Ongoing Conversation:
The Last Word Bookshop
Worst Way to Become a Penn Professor:
Smoke pot, gain fame
When I was growing up, I always knew I would be a Penn professor. It was inscribed in my last name. A secret office in Logan Hall, accompanied by a Penn faculty e-mail address was my destiny. What could I teach? How about Cinema Studies - clearly the most legitimate subject to be taught at an Ivy League research university, and its students are some of the most intelligent and hard-working on campus, intent on gaining an objective, practical understanding of relevant issues. To get the job, I did what made sense to me: star in a movie about two Asian-American stoners smoking pot and eating hamburgers. Educational background should never be ranked before a real-life experience like this one and certainly not before my People Magazine ranking (#6 baby!). I will now convert those tuition-wasting Southeast Asian History majors to Cinema Studies majors because it is film, not history, that truly teaches.
Worst Hemo's: The Hemo's on Spruce
Worst Place to Throw a Beat:
The 24-hour prayer tent
It's another late night at Van Pelt. You have a midterm the next day and you are very stressed. As you finish reading your last bit of notes, you get excited by an idea - a certain way to reward yourself. As you leave the library you notice a nice tent. It is warm, has some comforting music playing in the background and nobody is there. You immediately invoke images of that sorority girl. She was grinding her goods on everyone at that Castle "graffiti" party. You think of her supple curves bumping against the crotch-bulges of the Castle men, their tight Gucci jeans showcasing all of their small-scale glory. Minutes later you rinse your hands in a random bowl of water and grab one of those little, flat crackers on the way out. You are breathing deeply, but are relaxed, and you have a little smirk on your face - you can't believe this perfect jerk-tent was just sitting there. You turn around to get a good look and. holy shit! It's the 24-hour prayer tent!
Worst place to build a church on campus:
Northodox/Hillel Jewish Superblock
Worst Make-shift Toilet Paper:
The bread from Subway under Commons
Your roommate Tom was supposed to restock yesterday. There's no time to make to get some. but wait, what about. no that's just silly. Although. I'm not going to finish the sandwich, and I mean, what did they do in the olden days? It is a solid plan, except for one gaping flaw: it's the Subway sandwich bread from under Commons. Oh God! The crumbs are everywhere. It may take years to clean up. Crumbs have even made it onto Tom's bar of soap. Like a biology video of a decomposing animal in fast-forward, the bread sits on the bathroom floor, breaking down and discharging flakes like a dandruff-plagued middle school boy wildly (but curiously) itching his scalp alone in his bedroom. Taking place in your bathroom is a Dust Bowl of really crappy bread. It was a poor choice of toilet paper. Penn might have a good Subway if their bread wasn't so damn crumby.
Worst overall person at Penn:
Sally, from Rodin
Worst Place to Casually Gossip:
The windy passageway next to Harrison
An elderly man, Steve Hutter lives on Spruce - directly across the pathway between Harrison and, on the west side, the red brick house. Here, the wind blows relentlessly and to the detriment of the many girls and girly men who choose to gossip: the wind carries it all to Steve, the campus's resurrected Street Sweeper. He knows it all - from your feelings for the cute, kugel-loving boy who sat next to you at Shabbat dinner, to the time you fucked your Econ TA, Steve knows all of your stories. For 40 years he has documented gossip, a diligent archiver. An elder at ease in his age, he laughs as he finishes one of his favorite stories, ".and after she danced on the stripper pole in his dorm room, she proceeded to do a line of coke off of his. well, you know where! Haha. kids these days. Quite remarkable; I look forward to our future"
