Deer SaraB,
I considered making you a PowerPoint presentation to present my case to you, but I settled on writing this post instead.
Your insinuation that I am actually Ken Stillman caused me to go down to the local Rupp-certified track to burn off some steam by running an 800m on pure hate. I ran a new PR and, as I crossed the finish line, I whipped out my package and shouted: "Gobble gobble MFers!" to some curious onlookers. They were awed by my speed and noted that I was the most impressive runner that they had ever met, to which I responded: "Ummm, ever heard of Jordan Hasay?". I just wish that I could run a decent 10k, but, sadly, I guess I'm like Teg in that regard.
After my workout, I went out for some drinks, where talk deteriorated into some pretty nonsensical sh*t, such as whether or not a plane could take off from a treadmill and the possibility of a solar-powered helicopter flying to the Moon. On the way out, we passed by some hooker, who appeared to be dressed up as a half-pirate, half-cat. I think she was packing heat, so I moved on quickly.
On a side note, I really hope that Cam MF Levins isn't heavily implicated in Salazar's recent troubles and that Alan Webb can regain his old form so that I can shout: "Webb is back, baby!" from the rooftops.
Oh, by the way, Mike Rossi cheated.
Sincerely,
Fire Barb McKeever!