*tips hat back* I’m here to serve.

Months later, a star for you, you brilliant person.

To sensible footwear.

This.

Me, neither. I wish you were my colleague here, so I could give you a hug.

I work at a university, too—and my door opens into my office, so I can’t block it to shelter in place safely. I have to hope, when a shooter comes to our school, that they aren’t in my building.

I’m watching CNN where the anchor and the folks she is interviewing are engaging in some rhetorical gymnastics to identify the shooter as “he or she.” Now, either the news knows something we don’t—e.g., that it might be a woman—or they are pulling some super bullshit because mass shootings are overwhelmingly committed…

I’m just going to hold up my phone to show him this gif when he attempts more numerical humor.

Oh, that honestly made my breath catch a little—thank you! This job is so, so hard but so damn important, it takes a lot out of me. Your comment...it was like a sweet, unexpected hug. Thank you, so much.

I could hug you; I feel so validated. I left the breakfast place feeling so confused...I also left with a corn muffin, that was good.

I’m a creative writing major turned lawyer turned Title IX Investigator at a university here in the US. I met a mathematics professor this morning at a new breakfast close to our school. He made a joke about differential equations, and I stared blankly. He made a joke about algorithms, and I stared blankly. He asked…

That’s just, like, your opinion, man.

She could have blood coming out of her wherever!

I work at a large public university, and just last week, my office got its annual active shooter training. Because that’s what we have to do. Get active shooter training. Yearly.

It’s a perfectly cromulent argument.

Using birth control IS a right. Griswold v. Connecticut. Give me The Pill or give me death, damn it.