You Asked for It: In which we survive spring break and dull your competitive edge

Kelsey Weekman (Ice Cube in “Ride Along”) and Drew Goins (Ice Cube in “Are We There Yet 2”) are the writers of UNC’s premier (only!) satirical advice column. Results may vary.

You: How do I survive my Spring Break road trip?

You Asked for It:  Queue up some throwback jams like “Adventures in Odyssey” or “School House Rock” to make the time fly by.

Sing the UNC version of classic road trip songs, like “The Wheels on the P2P Go Lurch and Lurch,” “99 Blue Cups” and “Shut Up and Drive” by Rihanna featuring the crossing guard lady.

Play road trip bingo. There are spaces for cows, boulders, trees, highway bandits and War Rigs. The free space is “misery.”

Instead of the classic, “Are we there yet?” opt for something that will surely get a rise out of your road trip buddy, like, “What did we just run over?” or, “A fault line has opened a massive crevice in the earth, and only Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson can save us!”

You: My first intramural softball game is tonight, and I'm so unathletic. What do I do?

YAFI: Not sure how to convince your teammates you’re not more Barry Bonds than Bad News Bears? Start where the big leaguers start: anabolic steroids. As they say, if you don’t have an asterisk next to your home-run count, you’re not trying. 

If your teammates still aren’t convinced, focus on the non-sport aspects and pack a fat lip of your favorite chewing tobacco! The dizziness from the tobacco buzz will distract you from just how bad the rest of your NARP-y team is. 

Chomp on un-shelled sunflower seeds. If you pull off the spitting technique, you’ll look like a pro. If you don’t, you’ll choke and die and not have to play intramural softball anymore. 

You can also try to pull the wool over your friends’ eyes by providing condescending pointers to the rest of the team throughout the game. If the ninth batter in your lineup is striking out more than Tar Heels trying to find seating on Franklin Street at 6:25 p.m. before the Duke game, obnoxiously yell that they should, “lean into the next one,” or, “crowd the plate,” or, “hit the dad-gum ball, or we’re transferring you to an inner tube water polo team.”