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So I had to go to class today, after a four day weekend, which meant getting up this morning was a little rough. And I had 9:30 class, in a building that always takes me five minutes longer to get to than I think it should. All of this adds up to me being five or ten minutes late to class, so I missed the prof's "and today, we will cover x, y, and z." In addition, since it's been a week since this class last met, I had forgotten we would have a guest lecturer from the Lit department who does medieval lit to talk about the Canterbury Tales with us, thus saving the prof (who is a historian focusing on the Carolingians) from trying to Do Literature with us. (The lit professor co-taught a class I took last term. This is important later.)
Maybe fifteen minutes into the original prof's lecture, I realize that there's someone I don't recognize in the classroom, on the other side and a few rows up from me, so I can only see a bit of him in profile. "Huh," I say to myself, "I don't know who that guy is, but he's kind of cute."
Ten minutes later, and I remember the whole guest lecture thing, and finally manage to put two and two together. headdesk. (In my defense, although he's probably in his early 30s, he looks younger, especially when he decides to show up to teach in a tshirt and jeans, and he changed his hair since last term*.)
*In fact - and this is where I should have been paying attention to Chaucer, but we were doing Literature-as-Literature and I'm really only even sort of good at Literature-as-History - I spent way too much time - which is to say, any at all - trying to decide if his hair could be described as "like Johnny Weir's Jesus hair, only not terrible." This sounds like a wildly bizarre leap to make until you consider that said prof is small, not terribly masculine in presentation, prone to making innuendo laden jokes at the class, and happens to judge figure skating** in his spare time. At which point it becomes only a slightly bizarre leap to make.
**No, seriously.
In conclusion, figure skating has rotted my brain, which is why you should all talk to me about it.
Maybe fifteen minutes into the original prof's lecture, I realize that there's someone I don't recognize in the classroom, on the other side and a few rows up from me, so I can only see a bit of him in profile. "Huh," I say to myself, "I don't know who that guy is, but he's kind of cute."
Ten minutes later, and I remember the whole guest lecture thing, and finally manage to put two and two together. headdesk. (In my defense, although he's probably in his early 30s, he looks younger, especially when he decides to show up to teach in a tshirt and jeans, and he changed his hair since last term*.)
*In fact - and this is where I should have been paying attention to Chaucer, but we were doing Literature-as-Literature and I'm really only even sort of good at Literature-as-History - I spent way too much time - which is to say, any at all - trying to decide if his hair could be described as "like Johnny Weir's Jesus hair, only not terrible." This sounds like a wildly bizarre leap to make until you consider that said prof is small, not terribly masculine in presentation, prone to making innuendo laden jokes at the class, and happens to judge figure skating** in his spare time. At which point it becomes only a slightly bizarre leap to make.
**No, seriously.
In conclusion, figure skating has rotted my brain, which is why you should all talk to me about it.