Back to School 6: Obnoxious Interrupters.

There are three types of interrupters:

1. Serial commenters. Their body clock is set such that every 5 or maybe 7 minutes, their arm spontaneously shoots their hand into the air during an otherwise fluid lecture. I honestly think some of them cannot control it. However, this does not make me any less agitated when they ask their 9th question, tell their 4th story, or suggest their 20 bajillionth thoery on the purpose of all things.

2. Blurters. A cousin of the serial commenter, once removed. They have the same tendency toward spontaneity, but lack the self control required to actually raise their hand before speaking. I'm sorry you are a college junior and don't understand words like panacea... but is it necessary to blurt out "WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!" in the middle of the professor's sentence? Twice?

3. Unrelated Questioners. If we are talking about urban crime rates, please do not raise your hand to ask what the teacher's favorite type of ice cream is. Enough said.

Obnoxious Interrupters must go.

Back to School Part 5: Library Zombies

Library zombies are not uncommon. These students mercilessly haunt fellow library patrons with their creepily unbreakable gazes. Most encounters go a little something like this...

There you are in the library, just minding your own business. You are studying or doing something scholastic on the internet. Suddenly, you feel like you are being watched. You look up, only to discover a library zombie's giant, glazed and unblinking eyeballs peering at you from just above the top of your computer screen. He is across the table from you, and you are now his victim. He exhibits a generally greasy or unkempt appearance (complete with wispy mustache and braces), and although you hope he is harmlessly staring into space, you also kind of feel like he is actively trying to steal your soul with his incessant zombified stare. You look around you. The library is quiet but full. There are no other seats available. You are doomed to suffer his awkward gawking until one of you is done studying.

...

Sooner or later, his ceaseless staring causes you to panic like the pheasant from Bambi. YOU JUST CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE. You begin planning your escape route, feverishly packing your things as you look for the nearest exit. But wait. Right before you make your move, you lock eyes with a second library zombie who has fixed his gaze upon you from across the room. He is blocking the exit. Second zombie then proceeds to repeatedly lick the back of his hand. Like a cat. Staring at you all the while. You realize that you are probably safer where you are with zombie starer number 1. You are trapped in a most awkward social prison, and the library zombies win again.

Library Zombies must GO.

Back to School Part 4: Student-to-Faculty Flirting

Most professors (at least at my college) don't flirt with their students, and that's why I'm not addressing faculty-to-student flirting. But I have seen my share of student-to-faculty flirting, which makes me want to puke up my entire digestive tract in one foul purge for the following reasons:

1. Student/faculty romantic relationships are strictly prohibited at most educational institutions.

2. Most professors I have are married.

3. A lottttt of students at here are married.

Which means:

4. Most students who flirt with their professors are super duper skankity-skank home wrecking hooch bags. Male or female.

They should take their gum-smacking cleavage-showing joke-giggling eyelash-batting self as far away from my professor as possible. I don't care if he is dreamy like Mr. Schuester.

Student-to-faculty flirting must go.

Back to School Part 3: Skirts with Backpacks

Sometimes, girls wear skirts with their backpacks. This would be fine, if they were aware that with every step they take, their backpack could potentially expose their bum to the world.

I am well aware of this phenomenon, and I only wear skirts which I have tested for no-ride qualities. I used to take pity on these poor girls who didn't have a clue, and would tell them tactfully that their skirt was tucked up under their backpack.

I always tried my best to let them know as soon as possible. In a best-case scenario I would be able to catch up with them before the exposure actually occured. I once RAN up a hill to catch up with a lass whose skirt was perilously close to panty territory. I breathlessly mentioned that her skirt was getting tucked up under her backpack, and all she said was "oh" as she tugged her skirt back down.

What?! No "thank you"... ?AND I RAN!

I watched her skirt get all bunched up again as she walked away. She didn't even care.

I have now become proud and bitter in my old age. Proud at the fact that I NEVER allow my backpack to eat my skirt, and bitter at the fact that these girls made it all the way to college without understanding the basic relationship between gravity and friction.

Skirts with backpacks must go.