Letters For My Coaches 1

     So I was on the speech team but now I’m done and so are four of my coaches. They’re all grad students that work in the department and they invested a lot of work into me. I’m convinced that I normally talk like the “boom goes the dynamite” guy unless I have a coach beat the shit out of me. I’ve had the pleasure to get to know them all and so I wrote them really nice end of the year letters:) 


DISCLAIMER- These next few post are probably the most offensive I've ever written.


We'll start with Justin. Justin is stuck in the 90's but not like in a Portlandia way but in a gay *Nsync way. 

Justin,

Your crazy smile is crazy awesome.

Your shirts are only barely brighter than your soul.

Your talent is only preceded only by your flip flops.

Your soul patch burrows itself beneath your lip like your love burrows in our souls.

Your finely manicured nails represent your finely manicured thesis.

Your new job will be like bottoming: At first it hurts and you feel like you might die but after a while, it feels great.

Your organizational skills are like your hair: Each stiff piece meticulously locked in place and shiny.

Your work ethic is like a Chinese sweat shop worker. It doesn't feel like people appreciate your work but somewhere an Olympian is running across the finish line with the shoes you made for only 46 cents an hour.

You’re loved. Like Amelia loved the Pacific so much, she crashed and drowned in it. Like Jeffery Dahmer loved people so much, he ate them. Like, the tsunami loved Japan so much it gave it a big hug. You’re loved. And your love and skills and education will carry with us like HPV. The symptoms might go away but the virus will be with us forever.

Hearts,

Brad