Well, dear readers, my romance with the Professor continues on a pace. This weekend, he took me to a FACULTY MIXER. I was very, very apprehensive. I felt like a lamb among mutton (for lack of a semi-decent analogy). But it was okay. Not my idea of fun, mind, but okay. I will say that faculty are considerably less pretentious than grad students. Go figure.

Also this weekend, the Professor and I played Scrabble, and I won by a landslide despite Dr. Y's not-so-very-helpfulness. I say "atoil" is too a word, OED be damned!

I have had a sneeze that refuses to come for almost 48 hours. This is torture. Oh what can I do?

Well, I suppose you are all waiting with bated breath to hear about my dinner date with the Professor. It was entirely lovely, except for one part.

You see, after dinner, I had a hankering for gum or a mint. I had noticed a basket of mints in the bathroom. I mentioned the mints, and like a gentleman, the Professor went to procure one for me. As soon as he left the table, the waitress brought the check. Now, I knew that the Professor intended to pay. But some perverse - I mean utterly, utterly PERVERSE - part of me thought, "Wouldn't it be funny if he came back, and I'd paid the check?" So I did.

Funny? I am a FLIPPING IDIOT. The check was $91 with tip. Why did I do that? Am I such a man hater that I can't allow them even the pleasure of chivalry? Am I some sort of financial masochist? Was the expression of bewilderment worth $91? Is there any expression the human face can make that's worth $91?

Did anyone notice the Astronomy Picture of the Day today? Did you see how the BLG-109 Planetary System has a QUESTION MARK-SHAPED planet???

Chompers and Yakalumpf, drop your research and get on this immediately. I smell a Nobel.

I take it all back! I had an absolutely wonderful time. Actually, I'm going to have dinner with him tomorrow night.

Oh, and he does have a sense of humor. And tenure. Oooooo la la.

Well, today was Valentine's Day. One of my international play students - let's call him Jose - asked me to be his valentine as he entered my room. I told him to take his seat. He proceeded to flourish a pen at me as if it were a rose and sink to his knees. Whereupon he begged me to be his valentine as the rest of the class hooted and cheered.

Tragically, this is the most moving display of sentiment that I have ever recieved.

In other depressing news, another student asked me today, "Who is your valentine, Mrs. Petard?"

Another child replied, "Don't be stupid. It's her husband, of course."

Happy Valentine's Day, dear readership.

It is 9:43 a.m. and already it is a bad, bad day! First, I went to school because it was only 2 hours late. Of course, as soon as I get there, they cancel it. On my way out, I tripped on some broken up sidewalk and fell into a big sinkhole of frozen dirt water. My knee is all skinned up.

Whooooaaa is me!

Well, Dr. Y's misguided advice to C1150 about keeping the frog trap book under wraps (don't listen, C1150! lead with that!) has made me think that I should profer some informed advice on the subject, so that loyal readers about to date women will not make tragic and embarrassing mistakes:

1. Pay. If she's liberal, she'll try to insist on paying half. Don't let her. If you must, lick the check so she won't touch it. (Hey, if it works in a middle school lunchroom, it works in life.)

2. When you walk down the sidewalk, take the side closest to the street. SwD told me last year that men are supposed to do this. Before, I didn't know about this rule. Now, if a man takes the inside, I think he lacks class because he doesn't know the rule. This is hypocritical and ridiculous of me, but there you have it. Don't blow your chances because you have an aversion to the ridiculous.

3. If she farts, crack a joke about it. If you fart, crack a joke about it. The worst thing in the world is smelling a stinker and trying to keep a straight face at the same time. (Dr. Y likes to pretend people don't fart, and if they do, it's not funny.)

4. Don't talk about television shows. Bo-ring.

5. Compliment her. But not too much. X should be equal or less than the number of drinks you have.

There you have it. The way to a woman's heart.