v.1 (Yiddish) to complain
To my staff member who said, “Erectile Dysfunction is a growing problem.” You are amazing.
To the guy in SASB who laughed at a picture of a girl passed out on the floor on Facebook and then looked around to see if anyone heard him: I did.
Why does my RA keep trying to lure me into his room with candy and condoms?
Just because you wrote your kvetch in French doesn’t make you chivalrous. If you want some real chivalry, come find me and I’ll show my jousting skills.
To the idiot who thinks my sundresses only cost $50 (where do you shop, Walmart?): Sundress: $500, Ray-Bans: $170, Cowboy boots: $450. Being better than GDIs:
PRICELESS. There are some things money can’t buy; for everything else, there’s Daddy’s Amex … platinum.
Hey Pirates, I bet our players wouldn’t have to cheat if they went to ECU.
To my roommate who has written a kvetch about me every week and has never been published. It’s not that hard.
Fall, I’m ecstatic you’re coming to UNC, truly. But did you have to bring the Uggs with you?
To my white middle aged professor: Don’t ever say “We have a black president yo!” again.
You know you’re at UNC when as a liberal you say “damn liberals” every time you read letters to the editor.
To my friend: Either stop trying to hook up with the guy from your sophomore year or call off your wedding.
Dear ladies of McCauley Street: I appreciate your sign expressing your enthusiasm for UNC, but for future reference, “Tar Heels” is not one word.
From a proud 2008 graduate to TJ Yates and the rest of the football team: you embody what’s best about being a Tar Heel.
When’s testicular cancer awareness month?
To the girl carrying two grocery bags full of toilet paper in Lenoir: The food up there does the same thing to me, but you might want to be more discreet about it.
Tailgating is much more important than your safety.
8th floor Mo-Town RA who told me I seemed to have my priorities in order: If you knew my priorities, you’d realize just how arrogant that was of you to say.
Two dudes in hockey masks just went streaking through my Astronomy lecture. That wasn’t the kind of moon I was expecting.
To the editors of the DTH: I hope your next meal at Lenoir gives you food poisoning.
To the anonymous classmate that out-farted me in ECON lecture Wednesday … this means war.
Send your one-to-two sentence entries to firstname.lastname@example.org, subject line ‘kvetch.’
To get the day's news and headlines in your inbox each morning, sign up for our email newsletters.