kvetch: v.1 (Yiddish) to complain
Step it up kvetchers! The past two weeks have been disappointing. You are the only thing that got me through each week the past three years and now you are failing me.
To the guy trying to play music at 3 a.m. in Hinton James: You have fully established yourself as “that guitar guy.” Now stop.
To the little man who lives in dryers and eats socks: You better watch your back.
Dear Puppet Show: Your show has terrorized North Campus for the past month. I will not miss your obnoxious, repetitive music blaring through my window every weekend.
With all the budget cuts going on, why are we still having fireworks after touchdowns at Kenan Stadium? This is football, not a carnival.
To all the out-of-state students who think they’re better than residents: The South will rise again!
Seriously, frat guys, that much male thigh is just gross. I almost blew chunks.
To the girls in the dorm above me: Must you wear heels all the time? It sounds like I’m living below a Minotaur.
What’s the line between being impressed that you can ride a bike in a dress and getting flashed? It’s the hemline, and yours is as grossly high as lunch price at Lenoir.
To my friend’s friends: Thank you for not remembering my name, again. And yes, we have met before … about five times.
To the guy at the SRC who complained about the Jackson 5 Pandora Station playing funky jams throughout the gym: Seriously? If you don’t like it, “Beat It!”
Roommate and her boyfriend: In case you haven’t figured it out, when I talk about disgustingly clingy and over-affectionate couples, I’m talking about you.
To the men cutting branches with a chainsaw right outside my window at 7:30 a.m.: I hate you.
Dear girl in my AFAM 254 class: Looking up the answers to Thursday’s crossword on Wikipedia does not count.
Especially when the clue is “one of the Three Stooges,” 3 letters.
To the guy in the study area of the Student Union who talked on his phone for one hour straight regarding everything from his online orders to CHIPS auditions: Go away.
To whoever splattered the raw egg outside the door to Morrison: I hate you.
Frat guy, giving hickeys is not cool. Hooking up with you is embarrassing enough, no need to leave a reminder for the rest of the week.
Dear GDI in my Italian class: You used the words “bro,” “straight,” “chill,” “tight,” and “man” a total of 58 times this week. Stop that.
Send your one-to-two sentence entries to email@example.com, subject line ‘kvetch.’