From The Emu on Acid: Oh most august and praiseworthy Net, in these days of trial that mark the end of the quarter it is often difficult to laugh without bitterness, to smile without sarcasm. Net: Or to yelp without everyone looking. It is easy to forget that nothing, not even grades, are worth the sacrifice of one’s sanity or sense of humor. For those whose creative juices have been diluted with excessive caffeine and long nights, I would like to suggest the following activities for restoring one’s sense of levity: Net: And we’d like to strongly endorse each …
1) Visit a thrift store and buy the most outrageous piece of clothing you find that fits. Wear it to each of your exams. Caution: Before entering the classroom, make sure you have the correct time and location. I speak from experience.
2) Take a clipboard to the mall and walk up to single shoppers. Smile and tell them that you are doing a market survey and that they can earn $10 if they answer all of your questions. As you record each answer, make a derisive snort or acerbic comment. Make each question more obnoxious and personal than the last until you drive them away — sans $10.
3) Buy several kazoos and some classical sheet music (I recommend “Ride of the Valkyries”). Take several friends on the 94 bus to Maple Grove and back. Rehearse the entire way. Net: We tried this. “The 1812 Overture” works nicely, too. It’s a gas.
4) Dress up and visit classy art galleries with a friend. Use words like “presence,” “moment,” “nebulous” and “ebullience” as you sagely discuss each work. Indicate to the proprietor that you would like to acquire a certain expensive piece, but that you will not have the funds until rises another 15 points. Ask if you can put a hold on the piece without making a down payment.
5) Preach hellfire and damnation on Northrop Mall while handing out free Bibles. Slip a condom in each one. Net: Thanks, Emu. We guarantee your catalog of mirthful pranks to enhance everyone’s sense of foolery.
From Rollerdiva: Dear Network, I would be forever indebted to you if you would only let Phlegm of Discontent know that after reading his last entry in Network, I’ve fallen madly in love with him. Net: Roller, we would gladly pass it along if we didn’t want you all to ourselves. So, uh … stop reading, Phlegm. I want to know if he’d be interested in a date accommodating this schedule:
Romping over pedestrians in my classic 1973 Chevy custom-built 4×4, which runs on leaded gasoline. Afterwards, we can pull the shotguns off of my gun rack (it’s painted to look like the confederate flag) and shoot all the menacing deer that have been getting caught in my headlights. Before we cook up our dinner at our makeshift outdoor campsite, I was hopping we could slam a round of smack or two, I keep extra rigs in the glovebox. I wonder, if Phlegm would then want to abandon the rotting deer carcass, after skinning it for its pelt of course, for the stimulating night club Rick’s Cabaret, where we could run through an 8 ball of coke, a couple of martinis and proposition a stripper for nasty, nasty, three way sex in the bathroom at Hardee’s. Then maybe we could go put out our campfire, or maybe we could do some more speed and vandalize some strangers’ homes, kidnap their babies and steal all their valuables? I haven’t been to Hardee’s for a while, but the last time I was there, they found a used condom in one of the bathrooms. We might have the same good luck! Net: You must’ve been REALLY hungry if you were at Hardee’s in the first place.

From OldSkool: So I’m at this party a couple days ago, and I start talking to this beautiful, beautiful girl. She’s smart, interesting, intelligent; perfect in every way. Then I realize: Net: You’re a houseplant? I’ve got a girlfriend! What am I doing? All week I’ve been dazed by this girl. I don’t know what to do. So I appeal to you, mighty and benevolent Network, soother of souls and calmer of conscience, so that she might know and understand (in haiku form, of course):

I see my fading
saturnine eyes in yours, dear;
find you this weekend?

Normally, I suppose, this is a Dr. Date sort of thing, but everybody knows that Network is way cooler. Net: Normally, we only print haiku on Mondays, but since we favor puckish infidelity this time of year (and the word “saturnine”), we went with it.
L, M, N, O, PEE
To Cart Avenger from Gal: For your information, Cart, the reason that women’s bathroom lines are longer than men’s is that we take longer to pee!!! Net: No primping? No gossiping? No secret society? Nothing more. Net: Hmm. Nuts. Women, unlike men, cannot just “whip it out.” So next time you decide you know a reason for some human phenomenon, maybe you should think first.

From Sgt. Pillows: Network, you have restored my faith in the Network with your posting of bathroom graffiti which is the most neglected and underappreciated of the literary forms. Net: And yet, one of the most widely read. How ironic. I kindly submit for your consideration the following found in a Satellite portable s##@$house on a construction site:

Stand close
Piss fast
Shake once
Haul ass