The Daily Tar Heel
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Wednesday, June 12, 2024 Newsletters Latest print issue

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The Daily Tar Heel

kvetch:

v.1 (Yiddish) to complain

Dear UNC housing: You know what you did.

Dear professors: Don’t blame me for my terrible grades. Blame Chatroulette.

Dear UNC birds: I know you’re excited that it’s finally spring, but isn’t chirping at 3 a.m. a little excessive?

Student Stores: Where is my NIT gear? I find it weird that I have to ask.

To my roommate’s girlfriend: I know you still think about the time we hooked up whenever you see me in my boxers.

Dear Alpine: I know I’m refilling my soda cup for the sixth time, but please control your

unpredictable fountain

sprayers.

I know we are all excited about the nice weather, but let’s not forget the importance of deodorant.

To the guy in my biology class that e-mailed the class for a month of notes because you were “sick or busy” this month: I almost did it because you offered to trade fried rice.

Dear girl wearing a push-up bra with her hair down at RHRC: Get off the machine. We all know you’re not here to work out.

To the guy who rode a Razor scooter around 5th floor Davis: I don’t have anything witty to say to you, I just think your awesomeness should be acknowledged.

Dear sorority girls: Wearing Ray-Bans and Chacos does not make you alternative.

To my Civil Rights teacher who referred to me as a “rich white boy:” Way to fight racism with assumptions and ignorance!

To the girls on 3rd floor Kenan: please stop cooking things that smell like poop. Thanks.

Dear campus housing application: You’re such a tease. Can’t you just let me finish?

Dear guy who revealed himself to me on Chatroulette: I am not actually in Belgium. I live on your hall.

To the guy at Caribou who said he’d like to “be the male icon of sororities:” If sorority girls like tools — you’re already there. Congrats, bro!

To the boy on the Hojo balcony playing the Harry Potter theme song on a recorder: Marry me.

To guys who like to come up to a group of dancing girls and stand there: Just grow a pair and commit. 

To the girls taking apple pie shots on the 8th floor of Davis last Thursday: Can we be best friends?

To the people who throw recycling in the trash can when there is a recycling bin less than 10 feet away: What exactly is the matter with you?

Dear hungry squirrel: I’m not your personal climbing pole and these are not your nuts.

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

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