v.1 (Yiddish) to complain
To the lovely ladies of UNC: Think you can let go of the boots and heels in Davis during finals? Sincerely, all of us who hate hearing you from a couple hundred yards away.
To the person in mittens I passed while riding my bike in shorts: One of us was indeed wrong. It was cold.
To the girl in a tree: The view from the treetops was probably better than the one I had of your crack.
If the world is ending on Dec. 21, is this the last kvetch board?
How many interesting looking things do I have to do in highly visible locations to get Oh Hey’d at?
To my resident who refilled the safer-sex supplies with packets of Welch’s Grape Jelly: I really hope that’s not your idea of flavored lube.
It doesn’t matter how quickly you darken your computer screen, it won’t change that everyone sitting behind you in the lecture hall saw naked ass on your Tumblr.
To the guy who got on the Davis elevator with me, looked me in the eye, pressed the button for the eighth floor and winked: No.
How many reminders can the University send me to complete my course evaluations before it qualifies as harassment?
To the guy who proposed a disaster plan for the University after the world ends: Do you really think I’m going to continue going to class if the world ends?
To the football player who declared my friend a “generous six”: I told her to take it as a compliment because that’s probably the highest number you have learned to count to.
Even funnier than “A Weiner” is “S Tripper.” I have no respect for buses like that. Everyone’s been on them.
Freshman friend: I’m sorry I laughed at you that time you pronounced LDOC, L-D-O-C. And I’m sorry for repeating it now.
To the Non-Athletic Regular People, aka “NARPs:” Do not go to La Res. It’s embarrassing how much you don’t belong.
Send your one-to-two sentence entries to firstname.lastname@example.org, subject line ‘kvetch.’
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