A rare (blurred) scene of the professor rave

Disclaimer: I wish the following were inspired by real events.

Ever wonder what your professors are doing when they aren’t making you pay laughable amounts of money on textbooks or assigning so much work that you don’t have any me time (wink wink) anymore? Do you think they grade your papers on time? lol no they have their own lives. But I, your neighborhood Bwogger without a life of my own, will seek the lives of your professors because it’s better than literally doing nothing all day with the friends that I don’t have. Here is a tale from one of my many adventures…

It’s the first day of classes. The students begin pouring into the room and taking their seats. Some see their friends and make small talk, others (me), stay silent. The conversations grow louder until the door swings open and in walks the professor, Adam, books in hand, chin up high, and hair parted in the middle, bouncing up and down like my twerking ass. Class goes by normally, but there’s something odd about Adam, so I put on my reading glasses and start Facebook stalking. What I find is incredible.

The next day, while walking on the street, I catch a glimpse of the soft and bouncy hair and decide to follow it and see where it leads me. When we pass the wretched building next to Pink Berry on 112th (Fuck Spec), Adam stops to tie his shoes and out of his bag falls a medium-length chain. He immediately shoots up and puts it back in his bag and quickly walks forward, and I eagerly follow. He reaches a building near Digg In, and despite that God-awful smell, I also enter the building.

We enter a rave. I’m blinded by the strobe lights but when I adjust I see Adam crowd surfing and being lifted to the stage. On the way to the stage his clothes mysteriously fall off until he’s left in nothing but black Spanx. The general feeling of moisture in the air is so heavy that his eyeliner starts seeping down his face. He ties the chains around his body and looks deep into the eyes of the lucky, equally chained woman, Eve, who will receive his schlong. She hands him some moss out of nowhere. He uses it to pull her closer and begins to breathe on her. Then he turns around and twerks his pale skinny white ass on her to Celine Dion’s My Heart Will Go On.

Looking back, the only reason why I didn’t try to get on stage and get twerked on was that my prof and his lady began tying the rubber bands around their arms and poking at their veins, so I checked out. It was a rewarding and euphoric experience to be able to witness that, and I thank this publication everyday for giving me the opportunity to go do something with my free time other than weep.

The next day in class nothing was the same.

Profs partying via Rick Goble, Wikimedia Commons