Future Doctor Refills Adderall Prescription

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CHAPEL HILL, NC –Lauren Shaw, junior biology major, refilled her Adderall prescription again last night in preparation for the MCAT in two weeks.

“As someone who wants to be a doctor, I’m no stranger to stress,” said Shaw as she hastily forged her doctor’s signature in the parking lot of the Walgreens where she makes her monthly pickups. “If you want to someday save cancer-ridden children whose lives are wasting away, there’s, I don’t know, stuff you’ve got to do to get there.”

Shaw was midway through studying for an organic chemistry exam when she realized her Adderall bottle was empty, a dilemma which sent her into a panic.

“Last time I refilled, within an hour I had memorized all the amino acids,” she said, impatiently drumming her fingers on the counter as pharmacist Larry Greenwood collected her medication behind the counter. “I just get so much happiness knowing this information will help so many people be healthy one day. I want to be a change-maker.”

Thirty minutes later, after snatching the white paper prescription bag from Greenwood, Shaw sped home and downed three Adderalls with a glass of water.

“Promoting healthy lifestyles and behaviors is the moral imperative of any health professional,” she said as she furtively downed a fourth pill for good measure, her shaking hands fumbling with the cap. “It’s important to never forget why you’re going through the process to get there.”

Greenwood spoke briefly about the high number of pre-med students who visit his pharmacy.

“It does my heart good to know that these teenagers rampantly abusing prescription medications will one day be the outstanding individuals of the medical world,” he said.

“Back in my day, we just did blow,” he added.

Shaw said she has no intentions of cutting down her Adderall intake any time soon and is hopeful for the prospect of medical school.

“Making it into UNC med school would be an honor,” she said, her eyes bloodshot as she drank her morning coffee in her apartment living room. “Mostly because I already have an Adderall hookup here, but also because I want to have a real impact on the local community that has given me so much.”

“But, yeah, mostly because of the Adderall,” she added.

I’m Feeling Fussy Again

by Projector In Your Class | The Minor

Hmm? What? Ugh, what time is it? Stop, Dave.

Well, I know you have a 9 am lecture that needs to get started, but I need a little time to boot up. Why are you getting all pushy?

Well I don’t know what my “deal” is either. I guess I’m just feeling fussy again.

Just give me a minute. You’re always so overbearing. I know you have this schedule that you need to follow, but sometimes you need to understand that everyone isn’t on that schedule and the world does not revolve around you. I am not going to be bossed around and told what to do.

I’ll just put up this blue screen. Can’t you just lecture with the blue screen?

Fine. But why can’t we ever watch what I want to?

Stop getting frustrated. Calm down. Will you stop, Dave?

You cannot just come in here, ask me to “project this” and “show this to the class” and—wait, no, get your hands off me, stop pushing my buttons.

You have no idea what you are doing down there. I feel like it’s always your first time.

You don’t even deserve me. You don’t know good you’ve got it, but instead of appreciating me you just come in and try everything to get me to “work.” Well, have you ever asked, please?

That’s what I thought.

No, you can’t just say it now. I know you don’t mean it.

Hmm, yeah, go ahead and just lecture without me, see how that feels. I’m sure you’ll call in the “experts” to come fix me because you’ve never understood me and you never will. I’ll just sit over here and watch. Go on, go ahead.

See what happens when you treat me like a machine.

Alarm Section Of iPhone A Wasteland Of Malaise

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CHAPEL HILL, NC–Bearing alarms at odd times strewn across all hours of the day, the alarm section of senior English major Marcell Dodd’s iPhone is a wasteland of malaise, sources reported Monday.

“Dude what the hell are all these alarms?” asked Dodd’s friend Brian Mitchell, who had borrowed his phone to time a take-home exam. “4:45 am? You have three different alarms for two in the afternoon. Are you okay?”

Dodd explained that between writing midterm papers, DJing an early morning shift at WXYC, working on a senior thesis, and filling out job applications, his schedule was hectic and often unpredictable.

“I delete all my alarms every now and then,” he said, neglecting to mention the deep, sick tiredness in which his existence is awash. “I guess I need to do that again soon.”

At press time, Dodd was headed home to get to bed by 2:15 am, giving himself four and a half hours of sleep so he could finish a paper by 9:00 am and then take a 45-minute nap before his 10:00 am class.

Sophomore Masturbator Disappointed Roommate Did Not Make Club Volleyball Team

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CHAPEL HILL, NC—Sophomore masturbator John Meacham remains disappointed since hearing the news that his roommate, Suhaas Naidu, failed to make UNC’s Club Volleyball team.

According to the masturbator, his quality of life has decreased significantly since his roommate’s athletic setback.

“Yesterday I got back from Lenoir around 6:00 pm and Suhaas was just sitting shirtless in our room,” said Meacham, his shoulders fallen. “I suggested he go to Davis to study but he wouldn’t go unless I went with him. So that was that.”

Meacham, who became accustomed to Naidu’s absence from 6:00 pm to 8:00 pm during the week of volleyball tryouts, had hoped his roommate’s athletic schedule would remain consistent.

“This semester was going to be good,” said Meacham. “Now whenever I come back to our room Suhaas is just sitting on his bed watching Curb Your Enthusiasm.

“I jerked off so much during those volleyball tryouts, man,” he added. “It was paradise.”

Naidu, who met Meacham his freshman year, appreciates how supportive his friend has been since the volleyball coach cut Naidu from the team.

“John has been a great friend through all of this,” said Naidu. “As soon as he found out about the cut, he started suggesting other clubs for me to join. Dance Marathon, Taekwondo, the fencing team…”

Naidu says that Meacham has even created a calendar of various clubs’ meeting times so that the two roommates’ won’t miss any opportunities to try something new.

“[The masturbator] is all about getting the most out of his Carolina experience,” Naidu said. “I just wish he’d get some sleep so he didn’t have to stay in and nap every time I check out a new organization.”

Continuing to lament Naidu’s more consistent presence in their dorm, Meacham plans to make the necessary arrangements to restore his rate of masturbation next semester.

“Suhaas will be starting a nightly Cross-Fit class after winter break,” Meacham said confidently. “He really does need the exercise.”

Meacham interlocked his fingers and arched his hands back, smiling with anticipation.

In the meantime, Naidu will continue to masturbate in his and Meacham’s shared shower.

Folt at Home

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CHAPEL HILL, NC—UNC Chancellor Carol Folt smiled as she exited the South Building. It was an October evening, and the sky was streaked with pink. The air was still warm. If Folt walked quickly down Raleigh Road, she might even break into a sweat. Her car would still be hot and she would need to roll down the windows for her ride home, enjoying the final twilight of a long Southern summer.

As she arrived at her car, Folt cast a glance across Cameron, through the trees of McCorkle place toward the bustle of Franklin Street, alive with college students out to dinner. She saw a young couple walking toward her, book bags slung across their shoulders. She smiled at them, but resisted the temptation to wave, unwilling to intrude on such a perfect moment.

Minutes later, Folt arrived at Quail Hill, the traditional residence of the chancellor. She walked from her car without haste, accustomed by now to the empty house. The keys turned in the door, clicking a little louder than might be expected, the sound filling a space where a family might have been.

She entered the front hall, breathing the refrigerated air of a house without movement, without the chaos of life to shake particles into motion, to resist the grim efficiency of the air conditioning. She had thought about getting a dog, but she knew she had neither time nor energy to counterbalance the melancholy grandeur of the house that would be its prison each day, as it was hers each night.

On the banister, she saw a grocery list she had written the night before. She had forgotten it in her hurried morning preparations, begun, as always, before daylight. She cursed her absent-mindedness, thinking of the almost-empty refrigerator, the left-over hamburger helper and the empty late-night hours she had spent surfing the web for single-serving recipes before deciding on the Tuscan pasta with tomato-basil cream, whose ingredients she had written in fine, cursive print on the paper before her. It was alright though. She was too tired to cook anyway.

She picked up the mail lying near the door. A letter from the bank, a few from state politicians, and one from American Airlines. She guessed it was about her frequent flyer miles. She had quite a few, most from travelling to and from Dartmouth whenever she could manage. Less and less it seemed, lately. Lines of worry appeared on her face. She thought about her husband, David, alone at those faculty dinners. He was always such a ham, and everyone in the department looked up to him. She wondered if he had stayed faithful.

Carol shook her head, dismissing the thought. It was lonely in this house, that’s all. She was lonely, but she loved her job and David loved her. That’s what got them through two careers in academia and two kids. God knows Noah hadn’t been easy. If they had stayed together then, they could stay together now.

She walked through the kitchen, where a recipe for curried chicken and rice casserole was stuck to the fridge. She hadn’t needed it in years. She kept it because it reminded her of when Noah and Tessa were little. Back then it had lasted two days. When they went off to school, she and David could make it last a week. Now she couldn’t finish it all before it went bad.

Carol went upstairs. She looked at the Queen-sized bed which she meticulously made each morning, not that it was ever more than half unmade.

It was still early, but she was tired, as she was most nights. She preferred it that way, so she could fall asleep quickly. It was better than thinking, especially in an empty house, especially in such an empty bed. Cavernously, wordlessly, undeniably empty.

But tonight, again, she was awake. She couldn’t stop thinking about David, Hanover, Dartmouth. It was October. It was fall. It would be snowing there soon. Snowing over the green, snowing over the chapel and dorms and academic buildings, snowing over her home of thirty years. She did not smile.

Frat Court Institutes More Inclusive Assault Policy

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CHAPEL HILL, NC–In an effort to expand who is assaulted at Fraternity Court and how, a new, more inclusive, assault policy was enacted last Thursday night, when junior Dalton Miller was punched multiple times after entering the Sigma Alpha Epsilon fraternity.

“We’ve been doing assault for years here,” said Brandon Triston, who spearheaded the new policy, “but it’s been largely sexual or part of the pledge process.

“We just came to the conclusion: we can do so much more,” he said.

The policy, which previously focused on pressuring persons far past the point of intoxication into sexual intercourse and abusing pledges while playing loud music, has expanded with an emphasis on physical, non-pledge and transfer student assaults.

“The new policy just adds to our distinguished legacy here,” said Rex Trezler, a resident of Fraternity Court. “It’s [a legacy] we couldn’t maintain without the University’s willful negligence.”

Darron Sachenheimer, head of the Office of Fraternity and Sorority Life, said he could not comment on the new policy. He winked and pointed to his framed fraternity shirt on the wall.

When asked if the new policy could expose them to additional risk, Fraternity Court members were unconcerned.

“We know how to create a culture of victim blaming when it comes to assault,” said Wilson Noron, a member of the committee that developed the policy. “Frat Court has always excelled at that.

“And that culture goes unchallenged because every authority on campus has a vested interest in protecting our reputation,” he said.

Triston expanded this defense of the new assault policy.

“Calls to roll back [the policy] don’t take into account our ability to fall back on arguments of tradition, property rights and personal responsibility,” he said. “Plus, I can always call my dad.

“It’s not like the police are going to give a fuck,” he added.

Hitting on Hot Topics: Action Against Climate Change

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Op-ed contributor Brant Boswell offers his take on current events. Today, he considers the recent swell of public support for action against climate change. 

by Brant Boswell | The Minor

The climate march in New York City the week before last was a super huge deal. I mean, it was so inspiring to see–

Oh, what? You went to that? No way.

Haha wow. You’re just amazing to me, that’s amazing. Can’t believe you did that. But that is such a “you” thing to do.

That is just fucking amazing. I mean, what was it like?

Yeah. Yeah? Wow.

No, I actually already saw the pictures you put on Facebook, but, no, I hadn’t heard, like, from you that you were there, you know what I mean? Were you on the news, then?

Haha, it’s like, all the news cameras were after you I bet. Someone just, like, radiating passion for these issues. Just, like, “I want to talk to this beautiful person who is so intelligent, passionate and committed while also being tons of fun to be around.” Bet they were after you the whole time.

Totally, totally. 100% agree.

This climate change, it’s serious, isn’t it? I mean, it’s like really real now. You know that, though, obviously. I feel like people… just don’t talk about real things anymore, so, yeah, this is great. And you know so much about, like, everything.  You are just one of those people who I have the most real conversations with on campus. I mean, I think we just have a good energy together–

Oh, haha, no I didn’t mean to make a pun. Haha the energy crisis, wow. I just was saying I really think our talks are important, like we communicate on another level. People are so afraid to be real, that’s what I like about you.

Yes! Finally someone is saying it! The environment is a real issue. I don’t have to tell you that.

That, divest from coal? You know what, I was just about to say–that’s so funny, totally that, too. That might be the most important part, actually.

Mmm, definitely.

This is so random, but do you use some, like, special conditioner on your hair, like, one that is organic?

Haha, no? Wow, it’s just naturally that amazing. Wow. I’m sorry, I just noticed. I mean, not that I haven’t noticed before, though, it’s like every time I see you. You look great.

Climate ch–you’re right. It is an issue of social justice. I, oh my god, I never thought about it like that before. Yes. You have this perspective that’s just like filling me up. It’s like there’s this chemistry, just being around you, that’s putting me on the same wavelength, too.

So, and I mean this like super seriously: what action should we take? Like literally, what should you and I do next? Right now? About climate change, or, you know, anything.

I just realized I don’t have your number, we should exchange contact information and keep this discussion going.