"I’m waiting outside this professor’s office in Ann Arbor for a meeting I have with said professor. He is late; I know this because, for the first time in history, I have arrived at a meeting on time. It was purely an accident. But his tardiness does not annoy me, because I’m jamming to “Taper Jean Girl” by Kings of Leon. I’m in skinny grey pants ($50), an extra-small white v-neck ($12), a flannel hoodie ($30) and black ankle boots (price unknown).
I decide that I ought to run to the restroom before our seance begins. I’m in the bathroom, and I’m adjusting my clothes and fixing my homohawk. Enter the professor I’m supposed to meet with. He heads, briskly, for the urinal and does his thing. Toilet flush. He walks towards the sink, fixes his hair and goes:
“I’ll see you in a minute.”
Seems normal, don’t it?
EXCEPT THE PROFESSOR DIDN’T WASH HIS HANDS!
