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The Daily Tar Heel

Kvetching board for September 17, 2010

v.1 (Yiddish) to complain

To Morrison Basketball girl: We miss your scantily clad basketball skills. Things just haven’t been the same without you.

Campus tour guide: “and this is Lenoir, one of our two dining halls. If I were to take a date here, I’d call it ‘len-wah.’” Yeah, and if I were your date, I’d leave.

Kvetching Compadres: You don’t HAVE to start every kvetch with “To the drunk girl” or “Dear so-and-so”. You do all that complaining about frat fashions and slutty sorority girls, and YOU’RE the ones without any style.

Dear all 1st floor residents: Please keep in mind that many buildings have walkways in front of them, so close your blinds while having sex.

To the GDI kvetching about jorts: Those are pledges, not hipsters

Dear Ex-Boyfriend, Now that we’re officially over I guess it’s a good time to tell you that your fratty bro best friend is great in bed. ;)

To the girl at the P2P stop that drunkenly told me all about her sexual exploitations and made me pinky promise not to tell anyone…sorry, I broke my promise.

To the girl who wrote the letter about the kvetching board being “sexist”: Can you please go make me a sandwich?

To the kid excessively sniffing in my history class: Do you have a deviated septum or have you been snorting with the sororities?

Dear Marvin Austin, I liked the blue Louis Vuitton man-purse you had at Sutton’s. Does your agent know where I can get one?

To the guy I saw buying bulk condoms at SAMs: Even Agamemnon thinks you might be going through too many Trojans.

Dear Scenester in my Philosophy class, Just because you CAN fit a pencil through your gaged ear lobe, doesn’t mean you SHOULD.

To the baseball player doing laundry in Parker: Being hot may excuse you from a lot of things, but pouring liquid detergent into the DRYER while attempting to wash your clothes in unacceptable.

To the creepy guy who so KINDLY returned my wallet to me after yoga the other night: I want my 5 bucks back.

Dear men of UNC, Is chivalry really dead? Cordially, The ladies of UNC.

Guys, I know you’re hot when you’re jogging, but please put your shirts back on. My car insurance doesn’t cover ogling-related accidents.

To the couple that decided to discuss their personal problems 5 feet from me in the upper quad: No, that rash is not normal.

To the girl who asked Aaron Sorkin what his name was, How can you call you call yourself a film major?

Dear fighter jets: STFU.

To the F-16 fighter jets: Go Heels. Go America.

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