My Dean was probably good looking, in her younger days. What a shame that since then, her mind was invaded by an alien presence.
YES! Our machine is working!
Oh, phooey. Now I know how my grandfather felt (when the family still spelled it "Frankenstein"), with his monster at his throat.
It seems that there was a celebrity photographer with the same name as my stout, middle aged, male dean, which means that the search turns up mostly pretty decent photographs of attractive young women.
My dean's glamour shot bears disturbing resemblance to that of Uncle Rico from "Napoleon Dynamite."
Great. Now there are three more people that I want to punch just from being associated with him.
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