Letters For My Coaches 4

Laura is super awesome and she came back to school to get her undergrad and her masters when she was, like, 40. She likes guns, motorcycles, and being amazing. 

Laura,

Your ability to be the team mom is comparable to MTV’s teen moms.

Your beauty defies your age like an ill mannered step child.

Your bad-assness is more hardcore than Obama with a pinky ring and a neck tattoo.

Your fixation with guns is similar to Gabby Giffords. She just can’t stop talking about them.

Your magic purse of goodies is only slightly more awesome than your other magic purse of goodies.

Your return to and excellence in academia is more remarkable than an uninfected Prince Albert.

Your capacity to love is only outmatched by a hoarder’s capacity to love flattened cats and “treasures.”

Your husband is more supportive than the Pope for all his priests with a “younger” taste.

You’re loved. Like teenagers love texting and driving so much, they will drive to the death for those messages. Like Timothy McVeigh loved the FBI so much, he set fireworks off in their honor. Like BP loved the Gulf so much that it penetrated that Gulf and then lubed it up. You’re loved. And your love will continue to stretch like the marks on an underprivileged obese child with a “thyroid problem.

Hearts,

Brad

What can we learn from these letters? That I'm a sick person for creating such similes? Nope. More like... fuck it. I couldn't even type that out. I'm seriously messed up.

Letters For My Coaches 3

Ben is married but I like to give him a hard time and say that he's gay. Why? Oh because it's hilarious. He can sit down and accomplish anything whereas I sit on Perez for an hour and then take a nap. 

Ben,

Your organization is more anal retentive than you are anal receptive.

Your jeans may be from Penny’s but your wife certainly wears them in this relationship.

Your masculinity is only outweighed by your femininity.

Your care and love are like the sex scene in Ghost. We have the clay but we need your guidance to create something beautiful… and to orgasm.

Your ability to make first years feel welcome is stronger than any Kool-aid.

Your listening skills are like that of a quadriplegic. When we talk to you, we know that you’re not going anywhere and we appreciate that.

Your ability to go the extra mile is like that of a true American. You know that you’ve won the war but you’ll bomb two Japanese cities just for good measure.

Your persistence is like that of the last person in line on a human centipede… I’ll leave it at that.

Your drive is like that of a chronic masturbator. It doesn’t matter where you are because you will always find a way to completion.

You’re loved. Like Mary loved her virginity so much, she lied about it. Like Abraham Lincoln loved plays so much, he lost his head. Like Dianna loved the paparazzi so much, she got a little too excited when she pulled over to say “hi” to them. You’re loved. And your love will continue to spread like a cocaine ridden girl’s legs at an independent music festival.

Hearts,

Brad

Letters For My Coaches 2

Alyssa is incredible. Girl has better style than everyone in Mankato combined. She's also very quick witted which is important to me in a friend. She also loves her cat.

Alyssa,

Your duo blocking is more shocking than a knifey dildo.

Your pop culture knowledge is only trumped by your Sperry’s

Your ties are borrowed more than prostitutes borrowed on Christmas.

Your hair indicates your sexuality more than the broken chromosome that made you that way.

Your wit is quicker than the length of time people cared about Darfur.

Your aura is as electrifying as fucking a Pikachu. It’s super effective!

Your personality is explosive… like the Challenger.

Your future is like the World Trade Center. Things might fall apart but a bigger, better World Trade Center will always be built in its place.

You’re loved. Like Ukraine loves carnies so much they blew up a reactor to create a whole generation of them. Like Jesus loved the world so much, he died and left. Like John F. Kennedy loved parades so much, he celebrated by taking three or four shots. You’re loved. And your love will carry on in our hearts like those little worms will in over 2.7 million puppies this year.

Hearts,

Brad

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