Oh, Ryan! Ryan! Ryan! Ryan! You aren't the most exciting person to listen to--in fact, if you were a college professor, I guarantee your students would write snarky little things about you on your evaluations--things like, Professor Miller has as much personality as a dry sponge or Professor Miller can put me to sleep quicker than that sound machine I bought from the Sky Mall catalog--but that doesn't really matter to me. I know that if I had the chance, I could make your voice elevate above that I-am-calm-I-am-in-control voice you serve up to reporters. I am confident I could find some sort of pitch in you.
I should probably also tell you, Ryan, that the other day someone left a notebook in one of the classrooms at school, and it kicked around for a few days, so I finally opened it to see if I could figure out who it belonged to. There was a name in the notebook, but it wasn't a name that belonged to any student at school. The name etched on the inside cover was your name. It said RYAN MILLER and it had an exclamation point after it. RYAN MILLER! And I instantly knew that, yes, that notebook belonged to one of my students because on the first day of class when I introduced myself to the class I told them all the important things about me: where I grew up, where I did my schooling, and what I love. And one of the things I love is hockey. And one of the things I love about hockey is you. And I tell my students to remember your name because if they do it will be very beneficial to them in the future. It might help them to ace that one category called Totally Random! I throw into Grammar Jeopardy. It might help them win candy, bonus points, and the eternal respect of their instructor, who spends way too much time in her office gazing up at the picture of you from the Buffalo News that's tacked up on her cork board--it's the picture where you're standing in front of City Hall and looking all steel-thighed and skyscraper-legged.
God, you're hot.
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