When I think back on my 23 years on Earth, I have had some pretty mortifying experiences. I’ve found my mom’s vibrator, accidentally peed on my crush while he was hugging me, and clogged my not-yet-boyfriend’s toilet after a dinner date at Qdoba, but nothing comes close to what I experienced this past semester.
I was a student journalist and as such, had many journalist friends. We shared news stories back and forth all the time, like the j-school nerds we were. When you are a student journalist, BREAKING NEWS means you have to share it with all of your journalism friends and freak out about it IMMEDIATELY. It’s a rite of passage when your days revolve around checking CNN hourly and having a camera attached to your hip at all times.
So when I received a text message from a friend that said, “WSAZ BREAKING NEWS: Suspected member of ISIS arrested in [our small college town] townhouse,” with a link attached to it, I rapidly started mass texting all of my j-school friends about the craziness that was happening in our sleepy little town.
There was one journalism school professor that I was especially close with. He is my academic advisor, my mentor, and my own personal Dr. Phil. I know what you’re thinking, it sounds super weird and surely there has to be SOME type of inappropriate relationship between us, but the truth is, everyone in the j-school loves him, I was just his favorite. He is my Mr. Feeny.
I didn’t think twice before sending the news article to him. I texted him immediately, and I secretly hoped I was the first to let him know. He would be so proud of me for being in touch with what was going on in our community and being on top of my journalism game, I thought to myself. I couldn’t wait for him to share that freak out moment with me. Little did I know, we were both about to freak out for an entirely different, demented, traumatizing reason that had absolutely nothing to do with ISIS.
Looking back now, I was so wrapped up in the chaos of what I had just heard that I overlooked one very small, important detail: I didn’t open the link.
It was only after I had already sent the text to Mr. Feeny that I even bothered to open the link. What I saw before me left me in a state of shock and horror.
No story. No breaking news. No compelling piece of journalism. Instead, it was a meme. A meme of a ginormous penis, swinging around in circles over, and over, and over again.
I had just sent a dick pic to my professor. No, not even a dick pic, a dick video. A DICK. VIDEO.
All the blood in my body rushed to my head. Here comes the real freak out moment. I immediately burst into tears. I was mortified.
“What do I do? What do I say? How does this even happen?” I thought to myself.
I had to act quickly. I started thinking of a million ways to try to dig myself out of this penis shaped hole I had just buried myself in. Panicked, I wrote back “Don’t open that! It’s spam. My friends tried playing a joke on me.” To which he responded, “Too late.”
So next time you accidentally fart in class, bomb a test, or have any other unfortunate life circumstance thrown your way, just remember you could be me, living the rest of my undergraduate days haunted by the fact that I once sent my professor soft core porn. I’m sure now every time he looks at me he sees an 8-inch penis doing the helicopter..
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