October 20, 2006
Confession: I've Been Staring at Your Butt for a Half-Mile
Guest editorial by Jacob Whitten, Class of 2008
(Ames, IA) I don't really know how to say this, so I guess I'll use the direct approach.
I have been staring at your sexy butt ever since you left the Memorial Union.
Don't get me wrong - I'm not a stalker or anything. I walked out behind you from the Union, and I was, well, transfixed. I have never seen a more perfect-looking ass in my entire life, not even in a magazine.
I was actually just going to the Alumni Hall, the next building over, but I just couldn't help myself. I just kept walking and reveling in the unparalleled beauty that is your rear end in those oh-so-tight jean shorts.
Oh, I know what you're probably thinking: "Like, what's the number for campus security?"
Can you blame me?
God, I know I sound like a creep. I swear I've never done anything like this, unless you count that semester in Chemistry when I spent almost the entirety of every class period staring down the shirt of this girl who sat across me with low-cut tops, beautiful braless breasts just staring - STARING - back at me.
I followed you past Beardshear Hall, past Marston Hall, and even past the library. I even followed you past Spedding Hall until you got into your car in the parking lot, maybe gone from my life forever.
But if we ever meet again, would you like to go out sometime? Or could I just get a picture of your butt in those shorts to - err, save for posterity?
Thanks a million!
(Ames, IA) I don't really know how to say this, so I guess I'll use the direct approach.
I have been staring at your sexy butt ever since you left the Memorial Union.
Don't get me wrong - I'm not a stalker or anything. I walked out behind you from the Union, and I was, well, transfixed. I have never seen a more perfect-looking ass in my entire life, not even in a magazine.
I was actually just going to the Alumni Hall, the next building over, but I just couldn't help myself. I just kept walking and reveling in the unparalleled beauty that is your rear end in those oh-so-tight jean shorts.
Oh, I know what you're probably thinking: "Like, what's the number for campus security?"
Can you blame me?
God, I know I sound like a creep. I swear I've never done anything like this, unless you count that semester in Chemistry when I spent almost the entirety of every class period staring down the shirt of this girl who sat across me with low-cut tops, beautiful braless breasts just staring - STARING - back at me.
I followed you past Beardshear Hall, past Marston Hall, and even past the library. I even followed you past Spedding Hall until you got into your car in the parking lot, maybe gone from my life forever.
But if we ever meet again, would you like to go out sometime? Or could I just get a picture of your butt in those shorts to - err, save for posterity?
Thanks a million!