Net: *Sniff, sniff*…

Net: *Sniff, sniff* You still care about us. We’re touched, in an exalted-ruler-type-being-pleased-by-our-royal-subjects kinda way. On that note, allow us to bring on the funk.
From DOC: Whaaazzzzuup? Net: Our blood pressure if we keep hearin’ that shixsdhfit. Bigshow is right … the “Hot Twins,” as he calls them (most of us in “the business” simply call them “The Twins,” though I’ve also heard “Middlebrook Twins”… but I digress), have left this semi-proud institution. Net: This seems like a very appropriate time to make the following astounding revelation. Bigshow was not a man, baby! Kinda blows your whole day outta proportion, don’t it? My god, we’re getting colloquial. I before E except after C … However, THEY AREN’T FROM WISCONSIN!!!! Net: Puffy? I could tell you where they’re really from, but that’s not public information. Suffice to say, they are Minnesota girls and will always be Gophers at heart. Net: There’s a sickening thought. Our involvement with this University will consist of cheering for the men’s and women’s hockey teams post-graduation. Especially considering who they’re dating …
Furthermore, conventional wisdom suggests that there can only be a handful of hot chicks in Wisconsin, and since I know two such ladies, I believe there can only be another four to six such women elsewhere throughout the United States and its possessions. Net: Which leads us to the Utah theory: Nobody attractive has ever come from Utah. Donny Osmond does not count. But the point is, the ##%@!ing Badgers don’t have any Hot Twins! Methinks that fact is already gnawing away at their collective (albeit very small Net: penis) consciousness.
On a different note, should I confront my Net: smelly roommate about stealing my Eggo Net: shitkickin’ waffles, or should I dirty his dishes and clog the toilet, and leave them that way? Yar … Net: Avast, ye scurvy dog. Thank ya for that lovely entry. We love ya all, though, and here comes further proof.
From SwanSierra: Hey Net, Net: Hay is for horses. the last couple of days, your pages have been filled with entries from horny men. Net: This is the only other time we’re going to say this. Bigshow wasn’t a man, baby! That’s all fine and dandy, but I thought I should give a little representation to us horny women out there. Net: Yes. Yes, that would be a good idea. Which brings me to the guy in my morning anthro class (yeah, I know, I know, I am one of the five people actually taking intersession courses this year; call me a loser but I need credits). Net: No, little lady, we won’t call you a loser. But we call you a winner, in that you’re gaining knowledge over the summer, not money. And that’s what life’s really about. Knowledge. Now he may not be stop-my-heart Net: Or not sexy like some of the other guys around campus, who, by the way, know they are sexy and are usually, how should I say, unsatisfactory between the sheets. Well, the guy has a muscular build and a cute little goatee and sideburns. But the thing about him is he has the most drop-dead gorgeous, strikingly beautiful blue eyes. Net: Maybe he should give Mama Net a call sometime.
Come on, girls in anthro 1003, I know you’ve noticed him, and all the other girls around, write and tell Net how much we love blue eyes. Net: We’re starting to blush. Well, Net, if you could publish this and let ol’ blue eyes know that the swan girl wants to show him what a real woman can do, I’d appreciate it. Thanks, peace. Piece out, dog. Word.
From Rubby Ducky: Alas, fair ass! Net: Hi, chunky thigh! This sapphire world wasn’t meant for the two of us. Net: Zuh? I’ll take the sweet summertime eye candy, you can have the food from between my teeth. Net: Erm? Your daily segment of crap has been declining in quality since the last world war, but the alternative is much less attractive. Net: We’re startin’ to feel like Saturday Night Live. Everybody makes fun of it, but everybody watches it. Tell us, is it like watching a car crash? What is the alternative, you ask? I’m not telling you, because you’d implement it just to spite me. Net: Cue the jumbo Dr. Date column, next Tuesday. Therefore, let me propose this: you teach me to be one Malkovich smoother while enjoying the round-breasted sweetness of midday campus activity, and I’ll teach your grandmother to suck eggs. Net: All right, gather around freaks and geeks, and we’ll letcha in on a Net smooth secret. Tip one: Never, ever make eye contact with the opposite sex under any circumstances. Stay tuned for more, if we remember after intoxicatin’ ourselves all weekend.
From Ace & Gary: Net, we hate how on University e-mail when you don’t have a subject it’s considered “boorish.” Net: And piggish. And hedonistic. That is one of the dumbest things at the University.
Speaking of computers, we have another bone to pick. What’s up with the height of keyboards at University Internet terminals? Net: Congratulations! You win our dumbest gripe ever award! You’d either have to be no taller than 4-feet-2 at those big red ones, or at least a good 7-9 at the sit-down systems in the Willey walkway. Net: It’s a part of the athletics departments’ new setup for athletes, making it easier than ever to e-mail porn to friends for athletes. As communicative devices go, there are positives at the University. For example, campus phones are the exemplary product of a good idea brought into action. Anywhere you stand on campus at the University, we will guaran-damn-tee that you are within 50 feet of a campus phone. With these divine plastic devices, you can use a phone card and call anywhere in the nation for free. Also, you only have to remember five digits for on-campus calls, whereas on a “normal” phone you would have to remember seven!! Net: Smooth tip No. 2: Get out of the damn computer labs and go meet actual humans. Best of all, there’s never, ever a wait. (also guaran-damn-teed).
Forget those beautiful snowless pictures of Northrop and the mall, the University needs to advertise its assets, which are constant regardless of the weather. The University phones are always there for you, man.
Net: And so is the Guinness. Not that we’d know. *Sigh* All right, we know, we know. Tip No. 3: Chicks don’t like the taste of Guinness, but ya look cool drinkin’ it. Just don’t gag and puke.