Tuesday, 6:17 p.m.
Hey Rings, this [ultimate act of love] construction is really bothering the [love] out of me.
They better hurry the [more love] up.
Saturday, 2:27 a.m.
I just partied and made out with a professor, Ms. [name removed], at a house party. How awesome is that? What a great start-off year for me.
Tuesday, 12:24 p.m.
How about an article about Park
Point? How they screwed over all
their residents with one IP for all
900 residents or the fact that the
homes aren’t even finished yet,
or how half my lights in my
apartment still don’t work?
Or how about how RIT is trying
to screw all of us with parking?
Our friggin’ parking... we’re on
campus but only when it suits RIT.
Screw the bookstore, screw it all.
Tuesday, 7:27 p.m.
Hi Rings, I know you
own an amazing chicken
farm. You want to
know why? Because
you’re pretty [expletive]
amazing at raising
Saturday, 1:29 a.m.
I’m up sitting out here in the
hallway with a bunch of other
people and all of a sudden a
chick comes up from another
floor and she walks into the girls
bathroom with a toothbrush
and toothpaste and just stands
in there brushing her teeth.
It don’t make no sense.
Friday, 7:22 p.m.
I was going through Reporter this
week and where the hell is my Sign
of the Week? I want to know how to
sign “sit down female dog” and some
other things. So you better be there
Saturday, 3:40 a.m.
I would like to report kind of an emergency.
I feel it’s pretty dire. Your cartoonist sucks
Saturday, 1:37 a.m.
I’m taking my long [forking] drunken walk back to my apartment. And I
see these people and they are obviously drunk as well, but they decided
the best place to hang out for them would be the [forking] Sentinel.
Who hangs out at the sentinel when they are intoxicated, especially
when it’s muggy and gross and the air conditioning is [forking] broken?
I’m sorry I said [fork] so many times, but that’s what you do when you’re
drunk: You call Rings.