Dr. Lowery suggested I look into starting up a Houston-area literary magazine as a job once I graduate. I think she noticed the look of soul-crushing despair in my eyes when I mention my actual classes.
*I AM NOT JOKING I have not even taken it out of the mailing envelope. Hell, I don't even know for certain it's the right book.
**Calling their hypothetical offspring "nerdy" is only a little bit the most redundant statement ever.
*** I agreed to answer a question in exchange for the class getting out 15 minutes early (when you're sitting there from 7 PM until 9:45 PM, those last 15 minutes are the most agonizing in the world). She said she'd email it to me; she hadn't done so by the day before the next class, so I emailed her. She said I didn't have to if I didn't want to, but I did it anyway. So now she thinks I'm this amazing overachiever.
**** Our most recent encounter:
Dr. H: Jenni! *walks over as I fill up the Tahoe of Doom* And now you know I smoke. *waves pack of cigarettes*
Me: For shame!
Dr. H: I do this every Tuesday. I just need to smoke.
Me: ... We drive you to it?
Dr. H: YES. But see, this is what I'm going to do. I'm going to take one, and what do you think I'll do with the rest? I throw them away. *does so* I only want one.
Me: Expensive cigarette.
Dr. H: Two dollars. Cheapest one they had. Do you smoke?
Dr. H: Have you ever smoked?
Dr. H: Good. Don't ever start. See you next Tuesday!
Me: ... 'kaaaay.
*****This is not a joke; I call him my Editing Hat, and he currently lives in the Laurels office.