From Tiggs: Greetings once again, Network. I seem to notice a theme in all the entries over this glorious summer session. Net: Is it all the same people writing in about absolutely nothing? It is all the same people writing in about absolutely nothing. Net: Yeah, well, you’re preaching to the choir, Tiggsy. Summertime, and the livin’ is easy. So, I will join the crowd and ramble on as long as possible about as little as possible. Net: Nice to see you’re trying to do something about it! Sigh! I tire of that whole thing Pepper and company are going on about. That whole being dateless and no guys in Centennial thing. Hey, if you really wanted to find the best guys in that hall, you should have been looking when I was still there.
But alas, I have finally moved out of that wretched building and on to bigger and better things. I even have a free place to park my car directly in front of my new house. Calm down all you dorm dwellers, someday it will happen to you too. Sorry, back to the point. Net: There was a point? You don’t need to take your dateless aggressions out on the loyal Net readers. So my suggestion is to simply go out and get a date. Net: It’s so crazy, it might work! Your other options are to get a trailer so you can live alone with 15 cats, or to join a convent. Net: You could join a frat; that sounds pretty cloying. Enough of that, moving on … I also tire of the whole Chapel Hill thing. You can hate it here all you want, I really don’t care. But it is getting a little tiresome. It’s over Weewee. Give it up. Another thing, why Chapel Hill anyway? What about Miami, USC, UMASS, or Nebraska even? Well, I doubt my efforts will lessen your monstrous Exodus ’99, so I have my own plan. To counter your exodus to Chapel Hill, I am introducing an exodus of my own. I propose we all embark on a sacred journey to the holy land of Bloomington. Think about it. It’s not that far away, so we won’t be crammed into a van for very long. Not enough time for stupid car songs, which are inevitable heading all the way to Chapel Hill. They have this big-ass mall that can supply any of our needs, and even supply us with entertainment. And if we get tired, we can still make it home in time for dinner. Think about it people, and you will see that there really is no other choice. Net: Rosemount is nice. Join me on my quest. Hey, if I’m feeling nice I may even buy a round of drinks for everyone … Then again maybe not. Did I ramble on long enough? Net: Yes. I hope so.
From Picaro: Summertime ennui has gripped me, so here I sit, twiddling my thumbs and dreaming of escape from the incarceration of classes. Net: C’mon … skip. Everybody else does it. SKIP, FER SHEESHSAKE! (cue patriotic music again, Minister). WAKE UP ONE MORNING, LOOK YOURSELF IN THE MIRROR AND SAY, ‘DAMMIT, THIS CLEMENT WEATHER WILL BE HELD RESPONSIBLE FOR MY ABSENCE, AND NOTHING ELSE!’ PLAY FRISBEE WITH YOURSELF, WALK SOMEBODY ELSE’S DOG … WE DON’T CARE, JUST DON’T GO TO CLASS! A-hEM! Onward then. My days are spent studying, sleeping and occasionally succumbing to Rollerdiva‘s demands for immediate sexual gratification Net: Or do that; just do it in the grass — that girl is insatiable. I should steer clear of her though — that flaming crotch bikini she gushes about is probably a testament to her myriad of STDs. Then again, maybe that’s what makes her so alluring.
I just crapped my pants so I gotsta go. Net: Once again, the diva’s … erm … “reputation” has been called into question. Does she have anything to say about this? Stay tuned; webets she does.
From urbangrrrl: Fratboy‘s letter made me misty with memories of Target … For to be a displaced Minneapolitan in NYC is a life of wonder except that we have no Target. Net: NO TARGET?! Just a K-Mart — a lousy stinkin’ K-Mart! What self-respecting Target shopper could sink to that level? So I abstain, instead spending 500 times as much as I would at Target to shop at Prada or Saks … and it all falls apart in the end anyway.
Ripping the fabric of my soul … and those $200 socks. Oh Fratboy, how I miss the howls of drunken white boys on a Friday night after the 1 a.m. bar close … I don’t know what my life means now … Maybe I’ll tell my snobby NY cohorts that silly fratboys in Minnesota think Abercrombie is fashion. We’ll have a good chuckle and head out to ‘Hell’ because S&M chic is so fashionable … maybe I’ll buy a flannel on the way.

From Phlegm of Discontent: I wish people would stop trash-talking Target. Target is a great place for cheap — I mean inexpensive — stuff. The 50 to 100 bucks I save by shopping there rather than at Abercrombie can be used to fuel my monstrous, pollutant-spewing vehicle from hell. Net: And you can buy chlorofluorocarbon aerosols there … whee! It can also be used to buy beer, porn, cigars or all three. I could even use the money to buy guns then sell them to little kids from Colorado for a nice fat profit. I could upgrade my increasingly obsolete computer so that I can pirate all the newest software. Because of my tendency to buy clothes from Target, I’ve finally saved up enough money to procure that last bit of plutonium for my doomsday device. And Target is a wonderful place to flirt with the checkout babes, assuming you’re not at the Target on Minnehaha. All in all, Target is the best place for me to be spending my government-funded salary.
From roi de l’univers: The squabble between Pixee and Mofo gave me an idea. Why don’t we just spell everything phonetically? It wuhd bee so much eezeeir too reed and ryt theengz. Net: Spell-check … going … crazy … Thin wee wuhdint haf too wast ol that tym in elimentree skool luhrneeng how too spel. See how eezee it iz? Just Net: Can’t … keep … printing … letter … spel it lyk it sowndz! Aftir evreebodee seez how eezee this noo langwuj iz, wee kuhd eevin eeliminat punkchooashun and gra Net: ENOUGH OF THIS!!!