Seamus slapped my nice arse

No, I'm not revealing anything about what happened that fuzzy night after the last exam, I am merely reciting a mnemonic I use to remember the metamorphic progression of shale.

And alas, for it is probably the last time I'll ever have to use it - I'm no longer doing geology. It was one of the most influential subjects I've ever taken and I'm so glad I did it. It breaks my heart to leave behind my dear lecturer, Blenky Boy, with whom I have such fond memories. Who could forget the overnight field trip we went on together? The starry skies watched over by the luminous moon... the campfire that burned like the love in our souls... the columnar joints in the igneous rock and its delicious plagioclase phenocrysts... And who could forget how sexy he looked in this kid's camp chair?

That pose is totally turning me on.

As our love blossomed over the semester, I learned so many valuable things, like the cleavages and hardness of... hee hee... minerals. We dined on sedimentary rocks together, and on one special occasion, he rubbed his own saliva all over the rock I was studying so its features would come out. He was a man of many talents - so many desirable talents.

And when he spoke about tectonic plates I could feel my world shaking, vibrant and alive! Together we explored the mysterious trenches, scaled the highest peaks and rejoiced with the erupting behemoth volcanoes. And even though his arm was cradled in plaster, he had no shame in wiggling his noodle with it to demonstrate the P- and S- waves that so rocked my world.

In secret, we met under the canopy of green life to discuss the finer points of microgranodiorite, swathed in soft sunlight beside the restfully gurgling stream...

If it weren't for you, my sweet Blenky Boy, I would never have been able to get a high distinction in geology... Well, maybe the completed pracs and exams passed down from a second year helped a little bit.