Elizabeth Song

Looking for a new laptop? Forget those fancy gizmos at Computer Connection. Just north of Market Street, I spotted a hole-in-the-wall electronics store called the Super Computer Center, hosting a sidewalk sale at Depression-era rates. Old-school computers for $100.

Cigarettes, foie gras, and college kids. Some city restaurants are banning all three - after certain hours, that is. Even on Penn's campus, too many food and entertainment venues prohibit the underage college crowd from strolling in and nursing a Coke once the clock tolls for bedtime.

It's not an uncommon scenario. You're waiting in line for the $2.50 egg white sandwich at Bui's Food Truck, and an unshaven man in scruffed-up Timberlands, reeking of stale cigarettes, asks you for change. Sister, can you spare a dime? Will you help a brother out? God bless.

Just when you thought it was safe to relax, a whole slew of standardized tests is lurking around the corner. For the grad school crowd, the Educational Testing Service comes back to infect you with a nasty bout of SAT redux: MCAT, LSAT and GMAT. And don't forget the queen them all, the Graduate Record Exam.

This Sunday night, the fate of over $1.7 million will be unveiled by the UA Budget Committee. Every spring, this mammoth sum is doled out to each of Penn's six student government branches, which carve up the money until it finally trickles down to you - the constituent.

Thhhwack! That's the sound of bare skin against foam padding as I smack the daylights out of an oncoming assailant. Don't worry. Hidden behind the pads is none other than my smiling instructor, Michelle Ray. This simple exercise is part of my first lesson in physical self-defense.

Cars and Philadelphia streets are a match made in hell. The circulation situation is a heart attack waiting to happen. Rush hour traffic glides through city streets as easily as cheesesteaks and scrapple slide down clogged arteries. With SEPTA buses and taxi cabs jostling for room, motorists navigate circuitous routes down potholed streets.

To stay on campus or move off? That is the question of the moment. Whether 'tis nobler to suffer the hand holding and formalities that surround on-campus living or end them by joining the off-campus exodus. Before I begin, let me disclose a little bit about myself.

They're taking over campus. You've probably spotted them around. Stuffed in back pockets or tacked to bulletin boards. Full sheet or quarter page. Glossy or matte. Whether you love making flyers or love tearing them to shreds, you can't deny we're buried in them.

Welcome to University City, land of the $4 Starbucks latte and home of the $48 American Apparel sweatshirt. The 300 acres of land that Penn owns in University City rise above the desolate, crime-ridden lands of West Philadelphia like the Emerald City over Oz.