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The Daily Tar Heel
You Asked for It

You Asked for It: In which we are still recovering from the big game

Alison Krug (Marching Tar Heels groupie) and Kiana Cole (Really a fan of those guys who mop the court) are the writers of UNC’s premier (only!) satirical advice column. Results may vary.

You: What do you think Duke was doing during the national championship game?

You Asked for It: Don’t believe the hype of the confetti that flies with that final buzzer or the way Franklin Street floods with thousands of overjoyed Carolina Blue-clad fans — winning the NCAA National Championship is a drag!

You’re never getting those two hours of your life back. While Kennedy Meeks had to waste his Monday night catching all sorts of rebounds, Duke’s team could have squeezed in, like, two and a half loads of laundry! We all get so behind on our laundry during the school week ... they’re so lucky!

Mike Kdoia;fjjkd;a sdl;rfjdsiv was able to spend those precious hours delicately operating the claw machine he uses to gently pick a new consonant to add to his name every millennium. It must be so nice to be bad at basketball.

You: I’m still too excited from the championship win to go to class! How do I buckle down?

YAFI: As the old saying goes, if you love something, let it go, unless that something is Carolina basketball, and in that case, set part of your daggum school on fire.

And now that the couch-smoke haze has cleared and there are but a few remaining stragglers still napping atop crosswalk signs at the intersection of Franklin and Columbia streets, we can say that honestly, we’re tired too. We spent three hours knitting socks on the floor of Country Fried Duck before the game, and now every time we move, our bones sound like the wind blowing through a small forest. But we’re still giving this 100 percent.

Something something Hinton James/walking LFIT joke, joke about how cute Joel Berry is, blah blah eyebrows, blah blah Justin Jackson finding the meaning of Christmas in a free throw, blah blah. I woke up at 6 a.m. and accidentally started a small bonfire on Pittsboro Street on my way to class while metamorphosing into Petey Pablo, Roy William’s/plaid fabric fan fiction, jokes jokes.

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