For all the information you need to know, I’d like to point people to howdovaccinescauseautism.com.
I saw a bird get a worm at 10:30 a.m., which I’m choosing to take as definitive proof that the early bird does not necessarily always get the worm, and also that we should just give up 8:00 a.m. classes.
It’s always good when the guy at BSki’s answers the phone with, “Hi, are you still located at Davis Library?” Yes, I never left.
Thanks to my statistics class, I can calculate the correlation between days until graduation and my increasing sense of panic. But in my yoga and scuba classes, I’m learning how to breathe, so it’s going to be OK.
Hey Chapel Hill, if I wanted to live in the Windy City I’d move to Chicago.
Normally I’m very apologetic about my case of resting bitch face. Come SBP election season, nah.
I’m just in class so I won’t get fined.
My professor asked what hemorrhoids are. One guy said that they’re a pain in the ass. We all appreciate your sass in this class, but if you want to pass you need to be less crass and shut your crevasse. Can I get a yass?
On SBP endorsements — BSM, CHispA and any other campus org that doesn’t feed into the dominant ideology of white, heterosexual, males: “Lol, nope.”
Read as if sung by Kelly Clarkson: Here I am, once again/My life is in pieces/Can’t deny it, can’t pretend/Didn’t start this shit til 1/Professors gonna see the tears I cried/Behind this paper’s lies.
Just accidentally stubbed my toe while walking to Google an analysis of Interstellar. Was that the future me trying to tell me to stay?
Shout out to the broken scale in Woollen’s women’s locker room for the post-workout confidence boost. You da real MVP.
The Minor UNC 4 SBP.
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