Mini Post About Nothing #13: The Things My Professor Says

So I realize that I keep posting on days that aren’t my day to post, but I know I’ll forget these things if I don’t. Anyway, I hope you enjoy these short blurbs and they make your day a little bit funnier.

Earlier, I was sitting at my desk watching Castle and not doing my speech homework, and I got to thinking about Toy Story 3. I’m not sure how Castle turned into Toy Story (there’s an example of how my brain works, folks) but I started to think about Andy and the toys and how the toys could talk and how creepy that would be if it was real life and on and on, etc. The I thought: Wait. If the toys could talk and they didn’t want Andy to have to go to college and leave them, then why didn’t they talk in front of him?

Then Andy wouldn’t need to go to college. He would be a freaking billionaire with toys THAT COULD TALK!

Like I said, I’m really not sure how one thought led to the other, but I think this is a very good point. See, Disney needs me to write for them, because I would come up with the most realistic endings… No, probably not.

Somehow this thought bubble then led to something my ancient English professor said today. The man is a walking, talking fossil. Actually, he isn’t walking much. He has a cane. And he’s legally blind (or something like that), I don’t know. He talks and talks and talks and I mostly just ignore him because 1) I literally took this exact same class in high school, and 2) I just cannot take him seriously when he looks like that.

Today he wore black cotton pants with bold white stripes down the side, a forest green argyle sweater, and slippers. Mhmm, sure thing. Well, you’re old, so I can ignore that. But then he goes on to tell us how someone (we don’t know who) is taking him out for lunch, so he’s going to order two martinis and “put it on his tab”. Then he proceeds to tell us about how he is is going to get a pedicure later on today, and asks if we’ve ever had one before.

*blank stares*

The next ten minutes (during the time we are supposed to be writing a paper, by the way) he goes on to explain in way too much detail about how “once you get to a certain age, your toenails start to look more like claws, blah blah blah” and that he loves “the shiny feeling of my feet after they are all clean.”

Apparently he gets pedicures a lot.

Now, this post is not against anyone who like pedicures. Guys, girls, whatever floats your boat. I personally hate having my feet touched (or my hands–unless I know the person), so this was not a pleasant topic for me. I just couldn’t get over how much and how freely he wished to share every aspect of his life with us. Including his toes. While we were supposed to be writing a paper. Which he then collected after seeming to forget that we couldn’t write because he was talking.

I think I might have accidentally written something about toes in mine somewhere in the middle.

Maybe he’ll be too blind to read it.


P.S. These things kind of come across as if I dislike him, but I don’t. He’s actually a really precious old man. Who should retire soon.

P.P.S. The awful art teacher I talked about yesterday–yeah–I despise her.


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