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The Daily Tar Heel

kvetch: v.1 (Yiddish) to complain

To the girl with the Slytherin prefect’s badge on her bookbag: AVADA KEDAVRA!!

Without the signs in bars on Franklin saying “you must be born on, or before, this date to drink” I wouldn’t know what the hell the date was. #seniorproblems

To LAB! Theatre: Fine, I will go see Julius Caesar, but only if you take your posters down. I can’t pee when there are four studs staring at me.

Dear Kentucky, it’s all good — Obama would’ve vetoed your win if he could.

To the girl in the laundry room singing “Bare Necessities” at 2 a.m.: Finishing this paper by tomorrow is my worry, you making that impossible is my strife, and I am finding it difficult to forget about either of them.

To the girl on Franklin Street using the FaceTime camera to check her makeup: I admire your ingenuity.

To the guy casually watching porn in the library, I don’t think that counts as studying anatomy.

To the guy that drives a white Beetle around campus: I am really sorry for your loss. May your dignity and manhood rest in peace.

To everyone inviting me to Sweet Frog benefit nights…this is comparable to asking me to wear a Kansas shirt and parade around Franklin Street. Just sayin’.

To the guy who yelled “f—k!” at the top of his lungs on his way out of campus health, sorry about your STD.

To the girl in the UL: I can hear you through my headphones. It’s a laptop, not a f—king typewriter.

WHAT THE HAIL

To the guy wearing the dook hoodie and walking around with a pillow on campus, you sure as hell aren’t going to find a place to sleep in Chapel Hill.

To the barefoot fellow reading while lying on the table next to me in Davis on a beautiful Saturday afternoon: Is this really where you want to be?

To the guy trying to teach a squirrel how to play catch with a frisbee: YOU ARE MY HERO.

To the girl who admired someone’s spiky dinosaur backpack last week: The Children’s Store, 243 S. Elliott Road. We have ‘em.

To Kendall Marshall and Harrison Barnes: Sorry I made you talk to a tour group of prospective students several minutes after you declared for the draft. #WishIHadKnown.

My only consolation for your incessant ice-chomping and loud music while “studying” in the UL is one day you’ll have dentures and be deaf.

Hey Alert Carolina, there are bloodstains all over the bathroom. Is there something you’re not telling me?

To the a cappella group practicing outside Avery when I’m trying to take a nap — I hate you.

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To the guy repeatedly emailing the bio majors listserv to vote for him in some Hurley contest: Do you think any of us nerds care that much about surfing?

To the girl who trolled Gary by taking her shirt off — let’s keep it classy, not trashy next time.

To the guy who wrote to the DTH defending the b-ball players leaving: You’re not allowed on Franklin next year when we win the championship. Oh, wait…

To the cleaning staff of the UL: Kindly refrain from slamming chairs into tables after 3 a.m. Can’t you see I’m trying to sleep here?

Hey Desmond, sorry I gave you that awkward chomping smile. And sorry my roommate waved at you in Lenoir the other day. We were just really excited to see someone who will still be here next year.

To the roommate who doesn’t believe in air conditioning because you “like it hot”: How about putting on some layers or moving to the desert? I’m all for choice No. 2.

To the super cute guy in Davis: I swear these Gaga videos are for class. Please God, don’t judge me.

Dear frat boy: This is the third time you’ve canceled our dinner plans. No, you can’t have a raincheck.

To the girl on the bus who said Walgreen’s “literally” costs you an arm and a leg: it must be hard to walk across campus with only half of your limbs.

To the cute boy at the UL: “Hey, I just met you, and this is crazy, but here’s my number, so call me, maybe?”

Frat bros: If I wear my salmon-colored shirt tomorrow, can I get in on your carpool system from the B-School?

To the girl above me who recently complained about my loud singing and noon-time music playing: I’ll turn down my music when you stop your obnoxious late-night sexscapades.

Homeboy in Davis talking on Skype: The walls of the study rooms are not soundproof. Turn your girlfriend down.

To the guy trolling the Pit Preacher by singing “This Little Light of Mine” as loud as humanely possible: auto-tune it next time so Gary will argue with you about rap music.

To the girl screaming at the girl beside her for being shrill: Wow. You must take lessons from her.

Send your one-to-two sentence entries to opinion@dailytarheel.com, subject line ‘kvetch.’