URSA OnLine
All Bruins have Ms. Right's number


Why is URSA the ideal woman?

Think about it. (I feel obligated at this point to add that some readers may feel this information is not relevant to them. Many of these people are probably women. However, if you're looking for Mr. Right and not Ms. Right, consider what a great man URSA would be - if she was a man.)

At the risk of looking like a forwarded e-mail, I have compiled here a short list of URSA's most endearing traits. - She's always home when you call (unless you happen to call between midnight and 6:00 a.m., but who's awake during those ungodly hours anyway? Go to bed!)

- She doesn't get mad if you can only talk to her for 10 minutes. (In fact, if you can get her to talk to you for longer than that, I'll give you a dollar.)

- Even if she gets mad and hangs up on you, you can always call her right back and she'll act like nothing happened. (Guys LOVE that.)

- She knows everything about you. (I'm pretty sure that's a good thing. I guess it depends.)

- She doesn't get mad if you don't call her for weeks at a time (like 10).

- She's a Bruin, through and through! (go, go, go, No. 1 Bruins!" Remember that?)

- She never complains that you don't spend enough time together. (But then again, how could she? She's the one who hangs up after 10 minutes.)

- She isn't easy. (You often have to call her five or six times before you can get through to talk to her.)

- She's honest. (She never sugarcoats those bad grades or that withholding of records stuff.)

- She says the number "six" funnier than anyone in the world. (don't believe me? Call her and maker her say it. Pretty funny, huh?)

- You always know what to expect from her except for this past summer when they threw that weird male voice in there).

- You don't have to worry about who else she's been with
(because you know she's been with very man and woman on your campus).

Oh URSA. So caring, so giving, so misunderstood. I can only hope that this URSA exposé has opened your eyes just a little. I know it opened mine. From now on when I hear that old Tommy Tutone song, "Two-oh-eight, oh-four-two fi-ee-iieve."

Source:  Excerpted from The Daily Bruin, Monday November 18, 1996
by Justin Horey, Psychology Major, Class of 1998