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The Daily Tar Heel

Kvetching board for October 1, 2010

v.1 (Yiddish) to complain

Fair maidens of UNC: Chivalry is only dead where you’ve looked, which mustn’t have been our suite. Find us and you’ll see Chivalry lives and breathes as we do. Comptant sur une prompte réponse, Brownbear and MacGyver

Sundress: $50, Ray-Bans: $100, Cowboy boots: $80. Being the epitome of a stereotype: Priceless. There are some things money can’t buy, for everything else there’s daddy’s MasterCard.

To the person who left their iPhone in the Pit Stop last Friday, Don’t worry, I found it. P.S. — Olivia UNC says “holy s*** balls, I can’t walk.”

The fundamental Sunday morning question at UNC: Is that the walk of shame or are you on your way to church?

Who else has experienced acute bouts of epilepsy while studying under the “strobe-like” fluorescents at the UL study desks?!

So, I know that you short people cannot help being fun-sized, but please watch your umbrellas. My eye still hurts.

Bricks, after 3 years together, you still sweep me off my feet.

To the two pre-med guys using the Health Sciences Library computers to place cockfight bets: It’s nice to know that the future of health care rests on your shoulders.

To those who wrote the squirrel letters: We much prefer The Onion to the sophomoric weak sauce you thought was biting sarcasm.

Dear [B]Skis employee, Thanks for not calling the cops. I’ll try and pee on the Pita Pit next time.

Dear Cute Boy in My Freshman Seminar: Is it bad that, after Facebook stalking you (by finding your name on the Blackboard class roster) and seeing how cute you and your girlfriend were, I immediately hoped you’d break up over Thanksgiving vacation?

To the guy in my class who sent an e-mail the night before our midterm asking for ALL of the lectures notes because you have “attention deficit disorder” and can’t pay attention: Good luck in your college career.

To the guy on HoJo floor 5 who is always on the phone: Please shut up, we all know your girlfriend is banging someone else.

To the girl sitting in front of me in my Hebrew Bible class, looking at pictures of swastika underwear — there are Jews sitting behind you.

To the girl who used the dryer before me: I have your lime green lace.

Sprinkler that soaked me while I was cowering under my umbrella from the rain Monday night: Low blow.

For the record, being “not Jewish and screwed” on the Hebrew Bible exam does not justify asking for my notes.

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