Jim Newell

During my wanderings on the Saturday of my first Homecoming as a Penn alumnus, I came across what appeared to be Epcot Center on College Green. As I found out, the campy festivus was actually the kickoff of Penn's new, $3.5 billion capital campaign. Penn, you slut! Anyone else go to this thing? Lasers! Amy Gutmann in strapless red! Promotional campaign videos featuring students with fun ethnic names! But hey, what about that three-beer limit? If you're throwing a party celebrating the end of the world, at least get the kids drunk.

Even if Penn's academics proved unhelpful in providing direction in life, the four years spent learning about one's self are priceless.

My companion to Portofino wanted to order fettuccine alfredo, but the chef, Giuseppe Falconio, wouldn't let him. Sitting at our table, Falconio shook his head at my friend's lack of mealtimes ambition.

I've spent the bulk of the last two summers in Philadelphia. Same house, same bedroom, (unfortunately) same landlord. Same car that won't start when I want to go home for the weekend. Same trips to 7-11 for donuts when I'm bored. Same. Old. Shit. It's not all the same though.