Vol. 45 Issue 15

Look for the Voicebox on Tuesday afternoons in the Birch cafeteria, to anonymously “voice” your “opinion” on any “topic.” Introverted alternatives include emailing your opinion to

“I’m glad I’m not the only one who acts out relevant scenes from movies when alone; I can’t tell you how many times I’ve quoted Doc Ock from the final scene in Spiderman 2 to my dogs. You know, the part where the Doc finally regains sanity and tells his tentacles ‘Listen … listen to me now.’”

To your DOGS? Your DOGS. Now THAT’S cool. I think you should buy them little plaid outfits and market yourselves as a one-man-and-two-dog-Clueless-revival-tour. You know I’m right.

“You should send a public service announcement in your paper to students reminding them to press save on their files. I was just in a computer lab and this doofus came to plug a kettle in and hit the power bar on my station! I lost my entire Chem paper! ARRRRGH!”

We’ve all been there. Sucks. Usually if you bring your prof something to butter them up, they’ll be understanding of your inability to press save. I recommend a bouquet of water lilies or water chestnuts, or a waterslide (one of the inflatable ones I used to slide down in my Grandma’s yard with Sunlight dish soap to make it slippery – thanks grandma, my dermatologist is so mad at you to this day!)

“Why is everyone always ragging on 24 and Metro? There are way worse newspapers!”

You’re not only wrong, but you’re wrong twice.

“I hate it when the old hairy melty men at my yoga class take off their shirts! I don’t wanna see that shit. It’s offensive to me as a woman. I’m trying to get my downward-facing-dog on, not be distracted by nasty old dudes.”

Yeah, girl power, y’all! Get those shirts on, get those Victorian era socks on, get those Easter bonnets on, and THEN get your ass in that Bikram, and you gonna sweat twice as hard as before. I think it’s funny that you wrote in about other people because isn’t your yoga class supposed to be like an individual experience that connects and grounds you to your spiritual and inner core? That’s what it’s about. Until someone farts, and then everyone has the right to be distracted.

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