v.1 (Yiddish) to complain
To the three girls who peed behind the light post at the Hojo P2P stop on Saturday night: It might shield you from the road, but the 10 floors of Hojo can still see you.
To the people meowing outside my window last night: I was unaware UNC had changed its mascot to the kittens.
To the guy who constantly sits behind me in the dining hall: It was a one time thing; let it go.
To Student Congress: You know you’re useless when high school students are writing letters to the editor about how you need to get your act together.
To the girl who bit my neck last Thursday night on the dance floor: I’m sorry you missed the midnight premiere of New Moon. Don’t take it out on me.
Can anyone even remember the last weekend our basketball team lost and our football team won?
To my suitemate: That was a UTI test strip, not a pregnancy test. You fail.
To the exit stairs at Lenoir: You can quit your masquerade as an escalator. We’ve all seen you for what you really are.
To the dude who stole the bike I found in the bushes last Thursday: Consider the new seat and $65 tune-up a gift from me to you.
To the guy who grabbed five free condoms in the P2P: Leave some for the people who actually have a chance of having sex, please.
To my TA, who is “not sure” where his office is and it is November: You should find out about that.
The hundreds of girls in the Blank Canvas dance show were good. But the four extremely excited male dancers totally stole the show.
To the girl sitting in front of me in BIOL 101 class, who uses MySpace instead of taking notes: I’m Twittering about you with the rest of the class.
Dear FarmVille agriculturists: Congratulations, you’ve done nothing for the past two hours.
Dear guy on HotRussianBrides.com at one of the computers in the UL: You’re trying my patience.
Dear Chapel Hill Transit: The only thing you manage to do efficiently is waste a ton of my time.
Dear roommate: Don’t ask me what I’ve been up to if you’re going to have headphones in your ears by the time I ask, “What about you?”
To the girl in my accounting class who thought 75 minutes was shorter than an hour and 15 minutes: How did you get into UNC and are you sure accounting is in your professional future?
Send your one-to-two sentence entries to firstname.lastname@example.org, subject line ‘kvetch.’
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