Thing is, the only little kids within a fifteen-mile radius that I actually know of are Professor Deadpan's, and while he's always talking about needing a babysitter, he never actually asks me about it, which leads me to believe one of two things:
A. He doesn't actually need a babysitter that badly, or
B. He doesn't trust me with his littluns.
I suspect the latter. Trusting Musey with small impressionable children is probably not a good idea. I can just picture it.
Professor Deadpan: So, kids, did you have a good time with the babysitter?
Kid #1: Yeah! Daddy, I wanna be GAY when I grow up!
Kid #2: And I wanna build a barricade and fight for the liberation of the oppressed French proletariat!
Musey's Chem Grade: *is dead*
Also, from the same post:
Joe and I saw the Messiah last night at Ursinus College. (The concert, I mean. Not Jesus.) Like "Alexander," it was three hours long, but unlike "Alexander," we were prepared for it to be three hours long, and it didn't involve Colin Farrell in an ugly blond wig.