Holy $#!t!

We all know that Philadelphia can be a dangerous place. Just last week, an email was passed around concerning one of our classmates whose purse was stolen from her in Center City. Cohort D, has of course, been on the look-outs for suspicious characters and always walks its female members home after dark - and to a certain extent its more meek male members, too.

But this latest affront caught us all unawares. Who would have thought that this ambush would have come not only in broad daylight, but in our very own Huntsman Hall - AND at the very hands of those in whom we trusted so much.

Yes, I'm talking about the faculty. It seems that their sinister plans to actually teach us something have come to fruition. How else can you explain all the new synapses that are firing in my head. Two-part pricing, credit cash (which means pay out money), growing perpetuities be gone from my brain! There won't be any more room for the important stuff! I can't remember Brittney Spears' birthday! Gone are the days of whiling away the time, blissfully vegetative in front of the 82nd edition of the Real World on MTV. Forget about equally important Wednesday night pedicures or finally catching up on reading the latest Seventeen magazine. Woe is me.

So I wish you good luck in this barren landscape of midterms and Plenitudes of problem sets. I'm sorry to say that the good times are over, and won't be back. Until Thursday.