March Away

What is up with March being the new February? Doesn’t March know it’s supposed to be the beginning of the dawn, and not just cold-as-shit version 2.0? March should know that I HATE February. If February were a movie it’d be Gigli. If February were a state, it’d be West Virginia. If February were an Ivy, it’d be Brown.

— M.S.

Look at Me

I can’t believe Facebook doesn’t let me write on my own wall anymore.

If I can’t admire my striking good looks every time I change my default, who will?

— J.D.B.

I’m Allowed to be Loud

Oh, I’m sorry, my dear. Was I bothering you? My fault, I assure you. Despite the phone call being one that could define my future, I really should have been more considerate of you.

Why should it matter that I’m in a public area? Or that my caller was (1) old and partially deaf and (2) in control of my acceptance to that amazing program I’ve wanted since, let’s see, yup, age 15. What I really should have been concerned about was whether I was disturbing you while you surfed Facebook and pretended to actually contribute something to society.

You must forgive me for not caring, darling. So I took the phone call. It was important. So I spoke loudly. The guy’s bloody 65 — I’ve got to make him hear me.

If I had been screaming bloody murder in the Cocktail Lounge, fine, I’d concede the point. But this? Give me a break. Or better, yet, stop being a waste of space and do something constructive with your time — you can start with not bothering me.

— S.T.

Washed Up

It’s nice that they provide a combo washer-dryer in my flat’s common kitchen, but what would be even better is if it would actually work. I’m telling you, I can set it to dry for 140 minutes after washing for 30 minutes and the clothes will still come out considerably wet. Clothes are hanging in all kinds of random spots in my room while I wait for them to finish drying.

— M.W.

Impossible Disaster

I just spent almost an hour playing Oregon Trail, the old, old video game after stumbling upon it on the internet. Then, of course, a thief stole all my oxen and my family members got typhoid, measles and fever. My son drowned and my daughter broke both her arms and her leg (how is that even possible?). Everybody, including the new ox, died in the end. I even got to write my own epitaph on my grave. Sweeeeet.

— V.W.

Instant Karma

The content of this KVETCH is directed at the person who, four weeks ago, found $43 in Baker 200 and did NOT turn it in to higher authorities. I might add, this finding of aforementioned American dollars took place immediately after Prof. Kramnick’s lecture about the different forms of justice as propagated by Aristotle. Now that’s what you call ironic. Whoever you are, you-money-hoarding-scoundrel ... know this: Karma’s a bitch.

— A.K.B.

Laptop Lament

To people who bring their laptops to class: Please stop. Come on — no one really needs their laptop in class, as far as actual class concerns go. Using one immediately conveys that you aren’t paying attention, so don’t think it makes you look important. Although it does make you look like you think you’re important, so if that’s what you’re going for ...

It is also annoying to everyone sitting near you, who would rather not be privy to your online shopping decisions or your friends’ Facebook pictures. If you’re really that bored, just stay home — or drop the class!

— J.R.

Give Me A Break

Spring Break is no break unless we have a break from work. Hey, President Skorton: Please make a mandatory ban on assigning work over our much needed and deserved break!

— S.P.

Throwing a Fit

Leave it to Cornell to hit me with three all-nighters in 10 days ... Or leave it to my poor time management. You know what they say: Potato/Pot-ah-to. Either way, if that Thoreau paper doesn’t get an A, then I’m gonna tha-row my shoe at my teacher. Well, at least there’s spring break ... Oh, wait, I’m getting my wisdom teeth removed. Sweeeeet.

— P.F.