With no attendance policy, assignments or final exam, I’m realizing that my study abroad is the crux of the Wainstein report.
Having the Beatles’ “Here Comes the Sun ”on repeat is good enough studying for Astronomy, right?
In the recent spirit of investigations, lets talk about the mysterious couches in the Hamilton bathrooms.
On farting in Davis with headphones on: If I don’t hear it, they don’t hear it.
When the nighttime library guards greet me by name, I can’t decide if I have made it in this world or hit rock bottom.
This just in... the DTH is now taking high horse lessons from the Campus Y.
Holding hands in the dining hall: Because having your first boyfriend is just too exciting for logical behavior.
My mom is proud of me for working out and being “committed to health” but what she doesn’t know is I’m just doing it so I can drink more.
My sincere apologies to the employees of the Pit Stop — I don’t really have a 10-page paper, but there was really no other way to justify my large purchase of gummy worms.
No shoes, no bra, no problems.
I’m a nightmare dressed as a bum.
I’d like to submit a personal request for UNC athletics to get their shit together for my senior year.
Yes, UNC faculty, you can have oversight on athletics — but only after you learn to adequately oversee yourselves.
If the Wainstein report had been released by Alert Carolina nobody would have known about it.
The bricks around here are bad, but with slippery leaves hiding them, they’re just unfair.
I’d like to thank Lenoir for stocking Cocoa Puffs and for making 8-year old-me’s dreams of having chocolatey cereal for every meal of the day come true. Take that, mom!
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