v.1 (Yiddish) to complain
To the Manly dorm housekeeper who declared that our elevator doesn’t appear to be working: We don’t even have an elevator.
To the bird who pooped on my STOR 415 test: I already thought my grade was BS. Way to pile it on.
Dear studious psych major who asked if “hippocampus” was a philosopher: For my sake, I hope you’re never my therapist.
Really SRC? You’re going to set the television to Food Network while I work out?
Dear guy in Spencer study lounge discussing your grandfather’s case of herpes: Your family tree is much more interesting than my astronomy book.
Sorry, emotionally playing an acoustic cover of “Dolla Dolla Bill Y’all” in the quad does not make you artistic.
Dear pollen: I am not on my way to the city of Oz. I do NOT need a yellow brick road.
Dear summer weather: You are not my ex-boyfriend, but you still came too soon.
Trees: I’m excited about spring too, but quit flinging pollen in my face! You cannot fertilize me.
Rams Head: I’d gotten used to your greasy pizza, burgers, breakfast, etc., but how can you do that to an apple?
Dear answer choice “all of the above”: You instill so much self-doubt in me … or do you?
To the girl in the tiny bikini in Lenoir: I was shocked, yet I could not look away …
To the guy who hit me with a Frisbee in the quad today: I forgive you, but please never refer to your moobs as rock-hard pecs ever again.
To the guy trading fried rice for notes: Why aren’t you in any of my classes?
To my professor, who used “swagger” properly when discussing Margaret Thatcher’s economic plan: Bravo.
To the three girls on the Student Stores escalator that said “All you need to become an astronaut is something called a feedee … and was spelled p-h-d”: I don’t see much of a future for you guys.
To the middle-aged guy blasting Miley Cyrus with the windows rolled down: Is there free candy in the back of your van?
To suitemate using Dawn dish soap as body wash: Does one pump get the job done?
To whoever stole the TV from the Baptist Campus Ministries: We forgive you because Jesus forgave us.
Memo to the Eminem wannabe in the Union: Wearing basketball shorts does not give you a license to fondle yourself in public.
Send your one-to-two sentence entries to email@example.com, subject line ‘kvetch.’
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