Povill Gives Mad Props To Everyone, His Brother

First, I want to say that writing for the DTH was the best experience I've ever had, excluding that party I went to the other week at Bolinhood where everyone was playing four square. Writing gave me the chance to express myself creatively, to reach people in a new and exciting way and most importantly, to earn quasi-celebrity status among people who really like fart jokes. Thank you all.

Second, I want to express my most sincere appreciation for all of the wonderful teachers from whom I have had the privilege of learning. Starting with good old Doug Wakeman for ECON 10 ("Think Fast, Mr. Shoop!") to the unflappable sockless hero of the PR world, Pat O'Neil (I owe you my life for giving me an excuse to get Angela to come over to my house. Congratulations on your engagement.). You have made me who I am today. Whoop-de-doo!

Third, I want to acknowledge everyone here who has shared my time at Carolina with me and made it so freakin' great (this does not include any of you dirty pedophiles living in Laurel Ridge). I'm going to simply run down a list of my "peeps" that I want to "give mad props" to, so if you don't know me, you might as well skip to a different article.

I want to give a shout-out to my old Motown suite -- Perin, Kevin, Big Buse, Black Rob, Hunter, Wyatt and Dae-Jin. I really didn't mind you guys that much.

To the rest of the kids on fifth floor, Bubba, Clay and Adam, much love.

Lindsey and Lauren, I'm calling you out, too. To Leah, however, I give no props. Snubber.

Preston Orange, Kendlin, Christian and Christina, Justin Oxman, Steve Jensen, Matt Branch, Andy Shapiro, Dick Netmer, Phil Dees, Steve, Wood, Nathan, Ogle, Stree-hole, Matul, Kenny, Jeff, Missy, Mark, Dan, Mesh and Patrick, much respect to the hustlers.

To Bindi, Bela, Megan, Christy, Karen, Fat Neeps, Kortne (this is the only time I'll ever write it like that, so appreciate it), Amy, Ashley (congratulations), Mandy, Maggie, Hannah and Alexis, I'll miss you and love you all.

To Gray, Greg and Mike, much love, but clean your damn apartment. It's a shit-hole.

To Chris Stephens, I would like nothing better than to pass my torch on to you. Any man with a bullhorn installed in his Volvo deserves a voice on this campus. Start writing. You're the next Potty Mouth.

To Stacy and Lani, much love, but learn to keep it down. Some people are trying to sleep around here.

To Songbird and Odessa, much love. I wish I could say I've never had so much fun doing a project before, but you'll have to share that honor with "Against the Odds," from my PR class. Trafton, if Chris doesn't want the job, you have the rights to my column.

To Brian B., Ashley, Russ and Big Brian Frederick, I love you and your lenient deadlines. I would have lost a lot of sleep without your help.

To Hayden, love and respect. I'll always call on your birthday.

To Hawk, you're the funniest guy I know, and one of the best friends I've made. Thanks for putting up with my bullshit (and I'm sorry about the psychology jab). Crazy love to Shanna, too.

To Will, much love. I know I piss you off sometimes, but I wouldn't have wanted to live with anyone else this year, except maybe a midget named Rocco (I didn't forget you, guy).

To Parag (not "Prague," like the city, but "Parag," like me), and Bullard (What sound does your guy make?), you guys are the best neighbors a guy could ask for. If I could've joined our houses together to make one big super-house, well, I wouldn't have. Your place always stank of fish. Really. But I love you guys anyway.

To Matt (or "Cat," as he prefers to be called), what can I say? You're the guy. I don't have to tell you what the deal is. I know you know it all.

To Paayal, I'll see you all the damn time next year, so I'll just tell you that I greatly appreciate the fact that I can't say the word "shoes" properly because of you. Much love.

And to my absolutely amazing, unfathomably wonderful girlfriend, Angela, I don't want to embarrass you with this, so I'll just say that I love you the most-est and will continue to until the end of time. Now, shhh. Shut up.

Oh yeah, and much love to my family for being the only people who actually read the crap I write on a regular basis. I'll always be your bastard son.

PEACE. I'M OUTTA HERE.

David Povill would like to apologize to anyone he overlooked. He loves you all, kind of like that Jesus fellow. You can give him a "shout-out" at pfunk@email.unc.edu.