1. A boy in the class who we hated. He found the music of Moby really profound.
2. A girl in the class who we dubbed 'indie girl' and who had a tendency to name-drop, which was kind of redundant living in Wellington, where everyone already knows everyone anyway. She's famous now though and probably earns quite a lot so I guess that serves us right.
3. How much we loved Roy, our lecturer, and wished he was our dad.
Perhaps the strangest of the dad-crushes are those that we share with our mothers. Han is in love with Daniel Day Lewis*, which forever grosses me out having accompanied my mum to in the name of the father - aged 7 or thereabouts - and sat through repeated viewings of the last of the mohicans (around the same time) on VHS. John Cusack is an embarassing one for me: I gagged at my mother's girlish infatuation with Martin Q Blank but later fell head over heels in love with Lloyd Dobler.
*I s'pose I kind of am too, watching that video, sigh
That photo at the top is of Bill Murray and is one of my favourite portraits ever