May 18, 2016

A Sausage Sighting of a Straight Elitist Professor

Plains, May 2016

8:45 am.  I go to a seminar on teaching writing, led by a philosophy professor named Taylor.  There's no space left at the conference table, so I have to sit all by myself in a little chair off to the side.

I'm already in a bad mood.

This Taylor guy is about my height, in his 30s, with rather long hair, combed back, and a beard.  He is wearing a pink button-down shirt, a sports jacket, jeans, and yellow shoes.

Who wears a sports jacket with jeans?  Who wears a pink shirt with yellow shoes?  How pretentious can you get?

When I approach the table, he is talking about Lisbon, "off the beaten path," so it's not so touristy as other European capitals.

Yeah, yeah, I've been places, too, but I don't go around place-dropping.  "Oh, Reykjavik is so off the beaten path, and have you been to Tegucigalpa?"

I hate elitists.


Then Taylor scoots back in his chair and spreads his legs.

The rest of the story, with nude photos and sexual situations, is on Tales of West Hollywood


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