Tag Archives: nerd crush

Ms. Professor-Student Relations Expert

More lists!  I love lists!  And I’ve had too much caffeine to focus on writing coherent sentences!  I’ve also had too much caffeine to avoid exclamation points!!!

And since caffeine has also impaired my ability to blog on topic about man-shopping in Paris, you’ll have to settle for more lists that I made with Ryan.

Reasons NOT to date your professor

  • you babysit his daughter
  • he’s your hallmate’s dad
  • his name is Chad
  • he slept with your friend
  • he eats hummus for lunch every day, then has a coffee break, and doesn’t seem to know what breath mints are for
  • you were drunk in class once and asked to see his bellybutton
  • he looks like a human male incarnation of Lassie
  • he idolizes Stalin
  • he is in love with your boyfriend

Reasons to go ahead and date the crap out of your professor

  • he told you that he liked your essay response to prompt #8
  • he wears tweed jackets with leather elbow patches
  • his hair defies gravity
  • his argyle socks match your favorite cashmere sweater
  • he’s so sexy when he talks about de Tocqueville
  • his favorite dead white guy is Benjamin Constant

I challenge you to guess which of these are autobiographical, which are biographical, and which are just plain fictional.

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Ms. Lap Sitter

It’s that time of year again.  The Christmas season.  Time to go sit on some pervy Santa’s lap and ask him for random stuff.

Like the rest of the masses, I figured that I should take the time to put in my order with Papa Christmas.

Papa Christmas.  Is it just me, or does that sound dirty?

Ah, who the hell cares?  I’m already sitting on his lap at this point.  No turning back now.

So, Santa, let me get all nestled in here.  Why is it so comfy?  This is more than a little disturbing.

Anyway, listen up, Père Noël.  Here is what I want — nay, NEED — this Christmas:

  • MATCHING UNDERWEAR SETS.  As racy and frilly as they come.  Why?  A girl’s got to be able to compete on this lacy Parisian scene.  Besides, Santa, I know that you enjoy picking out lingerie, you pervy cad, you.  (Ms. Victoria’s Secret Angel)
  • MORE PANTS.  I tend to lose them when I drink.  And not in a good way.  (Ms. One Night Stand)
  • And last, but not least, please send me JUSTIN LONG for Christmas.  Please wrap him up in a snuggly sweater.  No need to tie him up with ribbon.  I’ve got plenty of ribbon and accoutrements at my place.

Please deliver all gifts to the family compound in California, and I will arrange for transport back to Paris.  My stocking is the one with the obese snowman on.  Do NOT, under any circumstances, give Justin Long to either of my sisters.  As God is my witness, I will hunt you down and beat you with a stocking full of fruitcake-shaped rocks.

That is all.

Joyeux Noël.

Wait, why am I still on your lap?



Filed under Misses

Ms. Mac Lover

This story begins with the untimely demise of my iPod Touch.  It was an apocalyptic day.

But once I’d calmed down, I dragged myself out of my “deep depression” (aka chocolate-covered waffles) and booked myself an appointment at the Genius Bar.

For quite some time, my buddy, Andrew, has been encouraging me to go to the Apple Store to prowl for men and telling me that these fellow Mac-users would likely be great potential dates for me.

Andrew has a point.  Guy loves Macs.  I love Macs.  And we’d probably love each other!  Why?  Simple mathematics:

Let X = a saucy dame

Let Y = cute, bashful guy

Let ∑ = undying love for Apple products

Let Ω = a healthy dash of nerdiness

X + Y + ∑ + Ω = high potential for beautiful love story

The day of my appointment, I awoke with a spring in my step.  I put on my pretty face, put on some freshly laundered clothes, and made my way to the Apple Store.

As I approached the Genius Bar, I was overwhelmed by the collective nerdy hotness that was emanating from the Genii in their matching blue t-shirts.

I had found nerdvana.

When I was summoned to the counter — my heart fluttering with excitement — the greeter waved someone over and said, “Hey, I know you’re a computer guy, and she’s here for an iPod problem, but…”

As I was pulling my dead iPod out of my bag, I heard a deep voice say, “Oh, it’s no problem.  It’s all the same really.  I’ll take care of her.”

Thank god.  I couldn’t wait any longer to have my iPod fixed.  When I looked up, my eyes settled on the sexiest man-thing that I’d seen in a while.

It was as if the ultimate broad-shouldered fireman fantasy dressed himself up in nerd-chic glasses and an Apple Genius t-shirt…

Nerd-chic is so hot right now.

In other words, I placed my order with the universe, and the universe finally delivered it.

The glorious piece of nerd-candy reached his hand across the counter and said, “Hi, I’m Alexandre.”

Man-shopper’s brain – “Hubba hubba.”

Man-shopper’s mouth – “Euh…”

Man-shopper’s brain: “Say something witty!  Say something seductive!  Fuck it.  Say ANYTHING, dammit!”

Man-shopper’s mouth – “Hi.  I’m Helene.”

Man-shopper’s brain: “Nice going, nimrod.  Real Pulitzer material.”

Man-shopper’s mouth – (silently: Shut up, brain.)  “Thanks for seeing me even though you’re a technically a computer guy.  My iPod is very ill.”

Alexandre – “No, it’s my pleasure!”

Then he smiled.

And I swooned.

Thankfully, I managed to aim the swoon onto a stool.  It wasn’t graceful, but it was effective.

Apple Store, Paris

I took a couple of seconds to recover, and then proceeded to explain my iPod’s condition.  Alexandre verified that it was still under warranty, put his hand over mine (could he have felt my racing pulse, do you think??), and said, “No problem.  We’ve got you covered.  I’ll have a new iPod for you in a few minutes.”

I was head over heels.  Any man who gives me free Apple products is marriage material in my book.

I watched him as he searched around for my new iPod Touch.  The blue t-shirt was a snug fit on him, so I could admire the way his muscles as moved as he rummaged through drawers and opened boxes.  A few minutes later, he was handing me a new iPod and my receipt.

Man-shopper’s brain – “Oh no!  This means that our interaction is ending!  Quick, do something to prolong it!  FLIRT.”

Man-shopper’s mouth – “So that’s it?”

Man-shopper’s brain – “AAAAARGH.  You are such a dumbass.”

Alexandre – “Yes, it’s that easy!”  He smiled again.

Man-shopper’s brain – “Go on.  Ask him out, goddammit!  This is your chance!”

Man-shopper’s mouth – “Cool!  Thanks so much for your help, Alexandre.  Bye!”

Man-shopper’s brain: “You’re hopeless.”

Brain was absolutely right.  I let another dream-boat slip through my fingers because… well… I’m incompetent.  Right now, this is what my brain is saying:

“This Man-shopper fool is a waste of my good sense.  I need to find another body with a mouth that will actually listen to me.


I made another Genius Bar appointment for this week.  This time, Brain and I are going to have a serious strategy meeting before I go in there.


Filed under Misses