Do your parents know you're gay?
I don't know who you are, but just to clarify, you sent this letter the night before our first issue was even released. I got it while in a staff meeting. How did you find out about my column? How did you find out how to write to me? Are you from the future? Maybe we should start writing you letters; you can probably answer them better than I can, being from the future and all.
But to answer your question, my parents think I'm gay and my grandparents and my girlfriend think I'm straight. Truth is, I'm not mammal. Hell, I'm not even a vertebrate. I'm a giant, extremely oddly shaped amoeba, so I reproduce asexually. Hey, look, I budded off twice while writing this.
What are you doing to combat the cold?
The key to keeping warm is maintaining proper circulation of blood to the extremities and skin, while not losing all of the heat in that blood to the environment. I would imagine that many studies have been (or will be, at some point in the future) done to determine the best way to accomplish this goal, and I would also imagine that these studies by accredited universities have shown (or will show) that the most effective way of keeping warm is total body lamination. Any decent office supply store should have a laminator, and, although I'm not sure how they work, it should be pretty simple to laminate yourself right up. Be sure to leave breathing holes, though.
I saw on TV one time this guy who took a similar approach to keeping warm, except instead of laminate, he used his own mucus. Gross, but it just serves as further proof supporting my theory. If you do that, send in pictures, please.
I think my professor might have a crush on me. He always looks lovingly in my direction and asks to speak to me after class. Should I use his affinity for me to my advantage or should I tell him I'm not into bearded, graying academic types?
One of the keys to success and happiness in life is ambition. An ambitious person would have leapt on such an opportunity to use a professor's crush to her or his advantage. It seems to me that if you had any ambition, you wouldn't be writing me, but I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you're just battling with your inhibitions. My advice is this: oil that saggy old bag of flesh right up and hop on him. If he is bald, oil up his head with whatever is handy and have him rub it on your stomach and you might get some enjoyment out of this whole endeavor. Not that that's your goal here, of course, but if you can squeeze it in, a bald-head-rub-on-the-stomach can be a very pleasant experience.
Your goal (now that I've mentioned it, I feel I must define it, although I would think you could figure this out yourself, Trixy. You are an Ivy leaguer, you know) is to get pictures of Mr. Oiley rubbing himself on you and then to threaten to show them to his wife. Bam! Instant A. You could probably get a couple of letters of recommendations out of this too. Good deal, all around.