Susan Finkelstein, a 43-old University of Pennsylvania grad student, posted an ad on Craigslist offering sex for money. Well, not exactly money. World Series tickets. They're as good as money.

According to FoxSports, the ad read:

DESPERATE BLONDE NEEDS WS TIX (Philadelphia) Diehard Phillies fan--gorgeous tall buxom blonde-- in desperate need of two World Series Tickets. Price negotiable--- I'm the creative type! Maybe we can help each other!

Well, the ad is certainly suggestive. (Who doesn't have a "gorgeous tall buxom blonde" friend, of "the creative type," "help" them out every once in a while?) But an undercover officer who replied to the ad claims that after meeting Finkelstein at a bar and having a few beers, she offered to perform explicit sexual acts. He slapped the cuffs on her, threw her in his car, and, err, took her to the big house for some punishment.

So is this an innocent he-said-"Will you..."-she-said-"If you..." situation? The Daily Pennsylvanian can explain the defense with two quotes:

“She was willing to — if she could afford it — pay money or work some type of deal to get tickets, but we completely dispute and deny that there was an offer a trade of sex for tickets,” [Finkelstein's lawyer] told KYW.

“I didn’t do anything wrong, so I’m not embarrassed about my actions,” Finkelstein told the Associated Press.

After the jump, the full on explanation (in photos) of why this lady is awesome either way.

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Losing a job sucks. It sucks more when it seems - as it does these days - to come from factors beyond your own control. But being unemployed only excuses you from so much, and for so long. Last week's installment of the Daily Intel's "sex diaries" made that point exceedingly clear.  The anonymous contributor is a 24-year-old female living in Murray Hill, an Ivy League graduate and unemployed ex-investment banker.

The beginning of her weeklong account begins when she wakes up and realizes that "its only noon", determines that it's too rainy to go outside, and orders delivery through SeamlessWeb. Maybe it's a little late, but why stress yourself when you've just been laid off, right? Wrong: "Since getting laid off (okay it's been six months now), life has been a cycle of drinking, boys, hangover, and Seamless."

That cycle, we learn, has been sustained in part by older men:

I am currently dating a few to finance my Manhattan meal plan. I promised myself the liquid diet, but not when you are having a free fabulous dinner at Del Posto. Mumble an excuse after dinner about not feeling well and having to call it an early night.

There's something savvy about the way our anonymous heroine manages to eat lavishly without a job, but there's also something pathetic about resorting to tactics used by aspiring trophy wives.

After the jump: the most embarrassing and pathetic incident of the week.

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It's been a long time since we last checked in on IvyGate's best frenemy. Let's see what she's up to.

SERIOUSLY?! I can’t believe I actually have the swine flu.

That's odd, I didn't know swine flu was also tertiary syphilis. Any other afflictions?

I have stigmata, and it itches.

This doesn't have anything to do with the whole S&M thing, does it? Don't answer that. So, I heard you took a trip to D.C. recently. What did you think of my hometown?

The metro is clean, open late on the weekends, and extensive. Like particularly pleasant twats.

Yes, I believe that is how Frommer's described the Metro back in the guide's wild years. Well, we're almost out of time here. Care to share any of your views on dating that will not be shocking to anyone anymore?

I simply don’t believe that the logic behind banning first-date sex is … well, logical.

Word. See you in six months.

Courtesy of the Washington City Paper's Sexist blog (yes, that's its name) comes this look back at life in Cambridge at the turn of last century. A New York Times article from July 1900 titled "The Cubans at Harvard" is not about the school's new smoking club, but a large group of Cuban girls spending the summer in Boston in order to learn English. And like most articles from the time, it's absolutely ridiculous.

Blog author Amanda Hess does a good job ripping the unnamed Industrialization-era Times writer so we won't run through the entire article. Here's our favorite part:

The traditional beauty of the Cuban women has not been exaggerated by travelers. In the party now in Cambridge are numerous types of pure beauty; indeed most of them are above the average in looks. Among them is at least one girl with red hair, although the prevailing complexion is brunette.

It's comforting to know that even back in 1900, the most important news on campus was, "Did you see the new hot chicks?" The article also stated that the showering of attention upon the young women was due in part to "their ignorance of our language". That's the same reason Valley Girls were so popular.

Sure this article is sexist and it's slightly embarrassing for Harvard. But is it any more sexist or embarrassing than Larry Summers? You need to put these things in perspective.

Professors in the Ivy League apparently are somewhat aware of the problems facing academia. You usually don't see them doing anything about it other than whining at conferences and writing editorial columns in the New York Times. Tenure is a great thing, sort of like being emperor of Rome while it burns down. No one's gonna stop your fiddling (or publishing).

Francis McLellan, a Brown Ph.D. and Princeton's former head Russian language instructor, evidently had a different experience as a senior lecturer than the professors did. Lecturers are to Princeton what migrant laborers are to, well, Princeton. And it seems as if four years of teaching elementary language made giving up women, possessions, and meat an attractive option for McLellan. In January he was tonsured Iosaf, a hieromonk in the Russian Orthodox Church. Now he's archimandrite of the Russian Ecclesiastical Mission in Jerusalem, a city just slightly less dangerous than Cambridge. Sexy monk results after the jump.
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Watch out, Lena Chen: there's another sex blogger on the Internetz AND he's not currently in committed, monogamous relationship!

The gay blogger, who goes by "Boy Toy" is placed by some sources as a junior at Harvard. The Chicago locale is just a front to throw you off the scent. Actually, not that hard when 42% of Harvard students have had 0 sexual partners in the past year. (That number drops to 33.7% nationally.)  Although who knows, it could be an aging, diapered Floridian with an overactive imagination.

Boy Toy is keeping mum on the specifics of his identity, although he insinuates he's a Harvard affiliate. If we hear another creepy nudge-nudge statement, we might petition for an honorary associates degree from the Extension School:

Although I'm not going to pretend like these stories are not somewhat 'tickled and fluffed' into a more coherent narrative, every guy has a very real-life equivalent... Perhaps you recognize some of them?

This 2(x)ist wearing commitment-phobe loves to have international sexcapades in in highly narrative detail. One Army hookup's lips "taste like syrup." Aunt Jemima, we hardly knew ye.

After the jump, Harvard Boy Toy takes you to second base... and... that's about it.

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Good news! Aliza Shvarts—the Yalie who staged a hostile takeover of the 24-hour news cycle last spring with nothing but a turkey baster, a jar of vaseline, and her fertile loins—is back, in the most ironic role possible: Educating little girls on reproductive health.

That's right, Yale's most notorious artist is a featured contributor in My Little Red Book, an anthology of first period stories edited by fellow Eli Rachel Kauder Nalebuff. Blurbed by Gloria Steinem, My Little Red Book is a strangely high-profile affair featuring the likes of Erica Jong and Gossip Girl originator Cecily von Ziegesar. Luckily, even the heftiest of literary minds is rendered totally preposterous in the face of adolescent menstruation and associated awkwardness, so this will be a fun post, after all. For a frighteningly weird peek into reproductive lives of Shvarts-Period-Art, Jong, and von Ziegesar (featuring phrases like "blood and poop and pee" and "clean white crotch of another girl") read on!

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After years of discussing their relationship on campus and nationally, Sarah Kinsella and Justin Murray—founders of Harvard chastity club True Love Revolution—have finally gotten hitched! Now they are free to delight in various long-awaited earthly pleasures, like filing joint tax returns and sharing a mortgage.

Kinsella and Murray married shortly after Christmas, say sources, with a wedding registry that included donations to a Catholic charity and some fancy plates at Macy's. They haven't responded to our requests for comment (honeymoon?) but we've got a few more pictures after the jump, including one of Murray popping the question, dressed as a Medieval knight and down on one knee in the library. That's right, True Love Revolution has literally reawakened the chivalric code.

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Now introducing Craigslist of the Young and Restless, featuring the classified needs, desires, and no-fee-sublets of the Ivy League.

We always assumed Brown was the horniest Ivy, whatwith SexPowerGod and all that free-loving, unshaved hippie-crotch stuff. But Cornell — repressed frat boy of the Ivy League — is on the verge of claiming Brown's Horndog Crown for itself, one anonymous Craigslist Casual Encounters listing at a time.

When we last saw Ithaca's Casual Encounters, this chick was tirelessly trying to start an orgy, and the Sun was working a sting operation on pervy professors. This week, Orgy Girl is back and looking to found a "Sex Club":

So Harvard has one, Yale too and Brown invented it....so why shouldn't we have one too? So the idea is quite simply a club whose goal is the connect people who share the common interest of, well, sex and other delightful acts.

We're pretty sure she has confused the LGBT Alliance with a swingers' club. (Just because "homosexual" and "bisexual" have the word "sex" in them does not mean they're interested in double-teaming you, O.G.) Even Converso Virium doesn't claim to engage in anything more than titillating conversation. Then again, you never know when some boring inter-collegiate organization like the Ivy Council is going to flip the switch and turn into a key party.

After the jump: Cornell's $300 foot fetishist alludes to Erica Jong, and a virgin seeks deflowering. Read the rest of this entry »

This week, New York Magazine strengthens its iron grip on the sexual narratives of upwardly mobile Ivy League females in New York. That's right, the people who brought you "The Overserved Ivy Banker Chick" would now like you to meet "The Single College Girl Obsessed With a Yale Law Student":

7:30 p.m.: Best friend gets a call from an acquaintance inviting us to a party at her older brother's apartment. He goes to Yale Law School — we'll be there.
11:05 p.m.: Party is okay. Talk to some fellow Ivy Leaguers who spurt intellectual justifications as to why they're using their education to make exorbitant amounts of money for themselves rather than bettering society.
11:37 p.m.: Introduced to acquaintance's older brother. He mentions something about opera, and I feign interest because he's pretty cute. He then proceeds to quiz me about some esoteric English composer in order to make me sound and feel like a total idiot. Determine that he probably wants in my pants.
12:42 a.m.: Suspicion confirmed when he challenges me to a game of darts. Just as I'm about to shoot my first dart, I feel his arms wrap around my waist and he whispers in my ear, "How's your concentration now?" I'm immediately aroused.

Yale Law sounds like a total douche. College Girl, save yourself for someone better! Like your hospital co-worker who sexually harasses you in all the right ways: Read the rest of this entry »