Net: It wasn’t eas…

Net: It wasn’t easy, but we purposely excluded ALF letters today. Enjoy the break.

From Pixee: Dear illustrious Network, I find it unnervingly disturbing that the Centennial Hall dining service management finds it necessary to cover up their mistakes. Net: The Pentagon seems to also have this fixation. What’s up? On a wall by the cafeteria’s exit, as many of us know, there is an a comment area set aside where dining service customers can write their comments on oversized index cards. If you’re lucky, the management will find reason to “counter-comment” on your card and post it in the comment area. How insulting and, even more, overwhelmingly stupid! It proves that responding to a service at the University, which is renowned for its — no pun intended — bad taste, is a worthless, futile task with no significant outcome. By observing on a daily basis, I’ve noticed points of insult, irrelevance and mere idiocy courtesy of the management. Here are a few examples (C = Comment, M = Management reply). Please note that if you recognize your comment in different words, I’m paraphrasing from memory:

C = Is it really necessary to put the mustard on the croissant sandwiches? How about making it available at the condiment bar so people who like the mustard, can apply it themselves??
M = The sauce applied to the croissant sandwiches is a seasoned honey dijon mustard and is an integral part of the taste profile. Net: Duh!? Didn’t you know that, Pix? Sheesh …

C = Could you possibly hire friendlier employees to swipe our cards?
M = If you are having problems with our employees, please address a manager.

C = I enjoyed the taste of your lettuce today.
M = Thanks!!

No, thank you, the fine management of Centennial Hall dining services. Thank you.
Net: We want to hear from the lettuce aficionados who can tell the “taste” of lettuce. Silly rabbits.

Net: Just before the break, funkapimpalicious claimed that because he’s in a band, he was able to get it on with Rollerdiva after, ah, puffing the magic dragon. Heh-heh … as if.
From Rollerdiva: Although I’m sure funkapimpalicious entertains some PHAT notions of scoring the ever illustrious, unattainable Rollerdiva, the Rollerdiva he must’ve boinked was definitely an imposter diva, because everybody knows, or should know by now, that this diva’s stash is one of an entirely different color. Now I don’t mind at all if you want to cavort around town telling everyone that you took a funky ride on the Roller Express to Divaville — Christ! — everyone knows that I would totally do Phlem of Discontent in the bathroom at Hardee’s after having read his anti-free-love-hippie-tree-hugger-tirade, (which still gets me hot, Phlem, by the way) Net: We suggest you get ready for a cold shower, Roller; we’ve got a couple of Phlegm entries in the hopper, but I will not stand to be known as a pot-smoking groupie with hippie inclinations, when truth be told, this uptown girl won’t even smoke a cigarette, much less the smoke-chokey come-down nugs. Net: And yet in your SOOTHYP entry in February, you spoke of smoking a bowl in the office with Johann … And I was sure all the staffers at the Net knew that by now! funkapimp (or should I say f##@%in’pimp?), were he privy to my pantyhose, would never, ever, ever get me in the sack with a pipe full of nugs. In summation, here are the three points I hope I’ve made.
1) That imposter rollerhippie out there should beware! Now that I know you exist, I will seek you out and destroy you and all of your hippie friends for soiling my partydiva reputation.
2) If anyone hears me say “I’m so high”, it’s from loading my nose, not my lungs.
3) As for you, f##@%in’pimp, I can’t say that I’m diametrically opposed to boinking band guys, but you’d have a much better chance of scoring with me if you were that super sweet hottie with the broken arm who handed me my keys yesterday after I dropped them outside of Johnston Hall. Thanks again cutie! Guys like you should have two sweet girls on each arm! Net: One-armed man would do himself a favor by buying a ticket for the Roller Express. Whaddya say, lefty?

From Canadian FBI: I’ve received some troubling news, and maybe you can help me out. I was recently told that there are these things known as “girlfriends,” Net: We won’t confirm or deny and that one could possibly eliminate the need for downloading porn altogether by obtaining one. Now I’m in IT honors, so the only time I ever really see a woman is when I go in every quarter for advising and see the Xxxxxxxxx Xxxxxxxx for IT honors, Xxxxxx Xxxxx, Net: Names of the guilty have been protected, of course berating some poor student who’s failing calculus. Plus, being in IT, I spend most of my time on the computer, where the sex of the person you’re talking to matters about as much as capitalization or good grammar. My friends and I thought that perhaps becoming masters at Starcraft would get us some honeys, but hundreds of hours of that game have only produced minimal success. Net: Hmm … hey, Roller … what do you think of Starcraft guys?
I was wondering, oh wise and pimpish Network, what is the secret to your mack daddy status? Net: Omnipotence helps. Is it referring to yourself with the pronoun “we,” interrupting sentences and ideas with witty and sarcastic comments, or just a certain savoir faire that comes with having your thoughts published to tens of thousands of Daily readers every day? Help a poor physics student out, or at least give us something funny to read while we try to stay awake in Tom Walsh lectures. Net: Tell ol’ Gaseous Planet that the most powerful thing in the Universe is the Force, and we got it. See you tomorrow.