v.1 (Yiddish) to complain
Special extended kvetching board! Because you really do complain that much…
To the girl playing MASH in stats class: I’m having trouble making life decisions too.
To the girls at Weaver Street Market: Is that a co-op number under your arms? Oh no, that’s just armpit hair. A lot of it.
Dear Oblivious Science TA: Saying phrases like “you have to firmly grab the tip with your hand” really does make us more interested… even if you’re only talking about pipetting.
To the girl walking to campus in a FULL glitter skirt: You are going to class, not a Lady Gaga concert.
To the girl in my philosophy class: I’m quite flexible for my size.
To the old guy in my pilates class: You should invest in some longer workout shorts.
It’s a reason to worry when your genetics professors doesn’t know how to spell “mutation.”
To the Asian guy with an Edward Cullen haircut that keeps flashing his abs in front of the giant mirror at Rams Gym: I only see fat.
Dear girl dancing while waiting outside our ANTH 280 class: You could make loads of money if you danced like that while taking your clothes off.
TJ, sorry about all the anonymous death threats last year… erm… interested in bearing my children?
To the idiot that complained about MoTown’s basketball girl: Please don’t harp on hot girls in sports bras, especially when you probably couldn’t take her.
To the freshmen girls who decided the building is called “Day” Hall: Go Dey.
Go Greek! Join the 15% of campus so that you don’t have to hang out with all the losers in the other 85%!
To the freshman girl at Kessing who said, “Holden Thorp is a man, right? Not a student?” Less time at the pool, more time in the library.
To my girlfriend’s suite mates: You didn’t have to be so loud when you asked if that was a number two written on the bathroom door.
To the drunk girl, still dressed up from rush, using drunken sign language through our window: We love you too.
To the pantsless girl who managed to vomit in a clear plastic water bottle on the P2P: You are both revolting and impressive.
To the UNC fans around me that insisted on pumping up the crowd and trying to out-yell the LSU fans on every 3rd down when WE had the ball: You are the reason we will always be just a basketball school.
Dear hallmate: I said you could borrow my scissors, not mutilate them beyond repair. Replace them before I mutilate the Justin Bieber poster on your door.
Butch: Lose the navy; wear Carolina blue.
Is it just me, or does the Campus Health answering machine lady sound like a female Old Greg?
To the person who sneeze-farted in the UL on Tuesday morning: You’re lucky that most people around you were wearing headphones. Too bad I wasn’t.
To the girl talking to Planned Parenthood at Davis: you might want to lower your voice.
Dear male hipsters: Please stop wearing cut-off jorts. It’s disturbing.
Dear frat boy playing cornhole by yourself: Where are your brethren?
To the girl who sat beside me in Bio 101 on Thursday: We see each other all of the time on campus and I think you’re very pretty. We need to hang out sometime.
Really DPS, a parking ticket on my bike? How do you expect to ever catch me?
To the girl at the men’s soccer game who yelled, “Oh crap, the ball just hit the player’s head!” Yeah, that happens.
To my English prof who used the term “bromance” in class: Legit.
The sorority pledges’ cheers are louder than Kenan on gameday.
To the person who drives a white ‘99 Subaru Legacy with PA plates: Me too. PS: Thanks for the 45 minutes I spent in Morrison Lot on Tuesday night trying to determine why my key no longer worked.
To LSU: Congratulations on beating a team with half of it’s starters… barely. That’s like beating up a girl who only has one arm.
Dear bleeding heart liberals, Would you protest me if I protested your protesting?
Dear boy in Kenan parlor, I apologize for the show you got when I was “Marilyn Monroe-ing” in front of the air vent. But hey, this is an all girl dorm.
To the person at the B-school who stole my laptop cord, it is comforting to know that corporate America is filled with people like you.
Dear guy sitting beside me in the design lab: I know that you are only here to edit photos of yourself for Facebook, and I saw you increase the contrast in your midsection so your abs look more defined. How about just going to the gym?
12 minutes into class, I think you can take your helmet off. And you better not be the owner of the Razor Scooter by the door.
To the classmate who showed up in a cocktail dress and stilettos: We’re not at the Oscars, we’re at a nighttime on-campus film showing for Bollywood class. Just FYI.
To the guys in the Stacey laundry room who were amazed that I got all my bedding into one washer: I mean, I am a woman. It’s my domestic duty.
Send your one-to-two sentence entries to firstname.lastname@example.org, subject line ‘kvetch.’
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