What the Hell Kind of Parallel Van Halen Universe Do You Live In?

Okay, so I have a lot to catch you guys up on because my computer got a virus because its vapid owner was trying to click on a picture to see what kind of drugs Lindsay Lohan was on.  I had been wanting to write about this topic for the last few weeks, but kind of hoped more interesting things to talk about would come up.  But everything that keeps happening seems to revolve around this subject:  teacher fantasies.  This is all anyone wants to talk about lately.  Is it because everyone in Florida is completely depraved?  Be patient--I'll be jumping around a lot as I catch you up on the last two weeks.

When I went into work a few weeks ago to gloat about the Zizek book, my plan was foiled because my friend had had something bad happen in his family.   I even offered to let him have the book before I read it, but he said no.  He spent the weekend with members of his extended family and their spouses.  Two husbands wanted to talk to him about his teaching.  They asked if he ever did anything with his female students.  He replied that they were children, or something like that, and they were all, "yeah, but they're like 17, right?"  He was kind of insulted.  They didn't even work up to this topic.  Total strangers, the first thing out of their 30-something mouths was about underage sex.  (I swear, as soon as you read students' writing, you see how moronic and young they are.  Not hot.)

Well, then I had to tell DH (friend at work will now be called "DH" because he has the Delicate Hands of a young Asian female concert pianist) my little story.  I guess I had given my number to one of the professor's friends because he was tall with longish hair.  And this led to a textual exchange where he actually wrote:  "So, Mrs. Robinson, why are you a teacher?"  To which i replied:  "Not only did you just call me old, but you also implied that I was a pedophile."  Then he asked me out on a date in the next text.  Obvi I said no.  I said no like ten more times.  Then I got bored and decided to go meet him two Sundays ago.  But first we talked on the phone for an hour.  It's been awhile since I've talked to a guy on the phone for that long. *shakes it off*  He said that his first impression of my friend that night was that she seemed like a divorcée with a young son.  I said he was way off.  Then of course I had to ask what he thought of me.  He said a stripper.  I said that was fair since I was wearing a nightie out in public.  He said that he didn't even notice my dress!  (Lie?!)  All that he remembered was a big pile of black with a little blonde head peeking out.  !!!!  Maybe I will rethink the boxy jacket next time.  So now I go to meet him...