kvetch: v.1 (yiddish) to complain

Within the last 24 hours I have completed two of my most important life goals: to meet the Arboretum Whistler and have a kvetch in the DTH.  Definitely a double dose of awesome that I’m still trying to fully comprehend.  I’ll write later about the Whistler once I finish my story on him, but for now I’m just going to talk about kvetching.

I love the DTH kvetches.  They are the sole reason why I grab the Friday paper, and for the past 2 years they have inspired me to send in little “one-to-two sentence entries” in the hopes that Friday’s paper will affirm my witty remarks on a certain event.

None have been accepted, until now.  I’ll give a few of my all-time favorites, and let you figure out which genius kvetch is mine :)

To the P2P driver who shut off his lights and went onto a side street after running a red light: You are a bus, everybody can still see you.

To the girls in the dorm above me: Must you wear heels all the time? It sounds like I’m living below a Minotaur.

To the white girl in the v-neck tee and Carolina blue running shorts: Not you, the other one … Oh no, wait … There are a THOUSAND of you.

To the white boy in the inappropriately short chino shorts and the pastel colored oxford: Not you, the other one … Oh no, wait … There are a THOUSAND of you.

Everyone, I met the enigmatic Arboretum Whistler.  His name is Greg and he will tell you his secret if you ask.

To the girl playing Oregon Trail in class: Are you seriously trying to ford a 6-foot river?

LOVE THEM.

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