Kvetching Board for April 5, 2013

kvetch:
v.1 (Yiddish) to complain

Let’s be honest, if Mike Rice had been throwing those basketballs at Duke players, would anybody really care?

Guys playing guitar in the quad: Why don’t you surround yourself with puppies and further solidify your desire for attention?

I really hope all the SCOTUS justices I’m Facebook friends with are swayed by my new profile pic.

Dear Carolina Inn: Are you aware that Lilly Pulitzer has apparently thrown up in your parlor?

Congratulations to this week’s weather for having more ups and downs than my grades this semester.

Carolina: Where sunshine and sundresses are venerated like saints.

To whoever rented “The Mystic of Sex and Other Writings” from Davis on my OneCard earlier this semester, please get demystifed and return it.

It’s no coincidence that the building housing the language department is pronounced “die.”

To the girl in my LFIT class: Naked is my favorite too, only I wish we weren’t talking about juice.

That awkward moment when you can’t decide which legislative body is more embarrassing: Student Congress or the N.C. General Assembly.

How to get everyone to hate you: Write for the Carolina Review.

What am I doing after graduation? I’m tossing my cap, ripping off my gown and drinking heavily.

To the girl giving campus tours and telling people the Bell Tower rings every 45 minutes or something like that: Do you even go here?

Maybe we could start spending money on more important things like improving our crappy Wi-Fi than on useless things like condom dispensers.

To my RELI 103 classmate who sent out the exam Google Doc against our professor’s will: You are our Moses.

To the guys who keep sending certain kvetches: Chubbies do the opposite of what yoga pants do.

To the girl using a group study room to sleep by herself. I hope a spider crawls in your mouth.

To the girl blow drying her hair with the automatic hand dryer in Fetzer: I don’t think Harvey Dent would be a good look for you.

To my frat boy roommate: No one wants to hear your sad attempts at making a girl achieve orgasm. Go home.

Send your one-to-two sentence entries to opinion@dailytarheel.com, subject line ‘kvetch.’