My Dearest Professor:
My profoundest apologies for not including you in my updated set of links. This was a gross oversight. As you are one of that exceptionally rare breed of internet users, the Straight Male Bloggers, I am horrified at my slack-assed self. I should have been more careful. My shame is compounded by the fact that I have remained linked on your blog for all this time. I humble myself before you. Not that I'm normally a submissive type, but I can be if you're more comfortable with that.
But I digress. You will notice that I have reinserted you into my link-list. I will never overlook you again, Professor. I just had my head stuck up my own ass for a few months there. But I'm feeling much better now, and I have a new hairdo. Check out my new profile pic. A bunch of gay men say it's really hot. Although I must say, my favorite picture of you is not the profile view you are currently using, although, being of your sweet face, it's not bad. I still prefer your photo from when I first found you, with your bangs dangling into your face, while you looked up at the camera. I felt like I had tapped you on the shoulder, and you turned around to see me, and smiled. (violins)
I know you have a name, but I prefer to call you Professor, because I have a thing for intellectual, nerdy, Uber-Smart Men. My crush on you is largely fueled by the knowledge that you are 10 times smarter than most of my college professors were. Well, except maybe Dr. Day who taught "Life of the Geologic Past." He once said "cool" something like 30 times in class. The students had a betting pool as to how often he'd say "cool." I'll bet you say "cool" from time to time, even though you're "Generation Y" and ought to be saying "Sweet." You're just so much more advanced than your average 24 year old. Forgive my Paris Hilton moment, but that is so hot. Like in breathe on your glasses and I'll wipe them clear with my skirt hot.
I'm sorry, that was probably too overt for you. You seem like a shy guy, and I don't want to embarrass you. The smartest guys are often shy. I know how smart you are, because I read your blog. Your sheer brilliance is indicated by the following:
1. You watch Doctor Who, and aren't ashamed to admit it. Being a longtime fan of Dr. Who myself, this is clearly evidence that you and I were made for each other. I've been watching the Doctor zip around in his Tardis since I was eleven. Maybe our first date should be in front of your TV. Do you want to see my calendar that Colin Baker autographed? I'll bring it with me when I visit. Just think of it. We can sit around your dorm room in our skivvies drinking imported beer and arguing over who was the best Romana. I'd win. I can be very persuasive. You wouldn't mind. The next morning you can make me your anti-hangover breakfast.
2. You know the history of countries other than the one you live in. I, as a typical American, had a crappy public school education, and haven't been anywhere outside the country other than Stratford Ontario, to see the Shakespeare Festival. Twice. Oh wait, I went to England for 10 days. I hit my head really hard on a low ceiling in an old castle, and bought a leather jacket. Other than that, everything I know about other countries I've had to read for myself or date someone from another country and get him to tell me about it. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get someone to talk about international socio-political history when all they want to do is get in your pants? I'm telling you, it's work. However, I'm good at it. I am now educated in such countries as Japan, Korea, England, Ireland, some parts of Canada, Israel, and Maryland. Sadly, all I know about Ireland I read in books. I know you could tell me all sorts of great stuff about Argentina, Germany and Texas. I'm especially interested in Argentina. I know all the lyrics to Evita. I could play that role anytime. And I love Argentinean wine.
3. You post things like this:
First we need to start an Xnest session. That's easy, but comes with a trick. Just run 'Xnest -ac :1' (preferably in a new ion workspace). The '-ac' option will turn off access control. This should not be necessary, but on Debian/unstable it is. To be on the safe side, make sure that you have 'X11Forwarding no' set in /etc/ssh/sshd_config (unless of course you're running a remote X server, but in that case you don't need this help anyway, do you?).
Hell, I don't know, do I? I don't know what the fuck you're talking about in 90% of your entries. That is the biggest turn-on there is. I swear to God, please wait until we're alone to talk computerese to me, because I will not be held responsible for my actions.
I've been reading your blog for around a year. I've been true to you. Not like those other girls who read you once or twice and get bored when they can't decipher your computerese. I wander the earth in search of men that are a) smarter than me AT SOMETHING and b) really cute in a swanky fedora. I'm sure none of the Canadian girls up there appreciate you like I do. I'm ready for my final exam, Professor.
You may be saying to yourself: "This girl, although hot, is clearly nuts." Well, ok, maybe a little. My friends would probably say yes, I am just this side of certifiable. But that's what you do to me. Besides, I am hands down the most fun date you'll ever have! I'm funny, I'm a good dancer, and you don't have to be. I can hold my booze and there's no type of food I won't eat. Well, except olives, and bell peppers, but we can work around that, I can feed you my olives if we go to a Tapas bar. I like all kinds of movies. I even like attending sports events, especially in shorts and halter tops. I get a lot of free beer. I like all kinds of music too. Basically whatever you're up for, I'm prepared for class. Professor.
And I promise, I can be as demure as you like in public. We can go out incognito - no gay bars at all. My blog gets lots of hits and I don't want you wondering why you're being photographed. Ok, I don't really get that many hits, but a lot of people do want to take my picture. I have this pink mini-dress that's really sweet. I mean cool. Whatever. And now that I'm straightening my hair I look like Polly-Pure Bred, so you can take me to really nice places where the waiters pull out chairs for you and they have tablecloths. I can be totally PG-13 for you.
Unless of course you'd rather get wild in Manhattan. Between your fedora and my cowboy boots we'd get tossed out of every bar in town, which is the ultimate American Party Experience. And you know, it's a lot warmer down here, which you might like, given all the glaciers in Canada that you probably have to walk over to get to class. So let me know when you're coming and I'll book a room. I know some pretty nice hotels.
Sadly, my living situation dictates that I cannot share said room with you. Although I am loaded with innuendo, I am currently in a relationship with a guy who has not only tolerated me for over a year and a half, he lets me live in his house and eat his Chee-tos and Fried Chicken Wings. I'm sure you appreciate how valuable this resource is for a tramp like me (make that reformed tramp), and wouldn't want me to jeopardize it. So I'll have to go home at the close of our evening festivities. But that's just as well, since I'm nowhere near as much fun to be around when I'm sleeping. I snore. Delicately. And really, my innuendo is better than anything explicit you'd get from most girls. (Now there's something I don't blog about!)
Ah, Professor of the dreamy eyes and the sloppy forelock, accept my humble apologies for carelessly de-linking you for a few weeks, and know that I dream of our future liaison, wherever it may be. Until then, I remain your most devoted and faithful student,