The following handwritten letter was just found crumpled up on the toasty sun-baked marble steps of McKinley Hall:

Dear Lisa,

You were right to warn me about wearing a crisscross open mesh cycling outfit on that 8-hour Death Valley charity bike ride benefiting people who make poor choices selecting appropriate outfits for specific athletic events. Not only did I chafe the hell out of my delicate lady taint, but I probably should've brought some drinking water instead of an old package of stale saltine crackers (I was like, soo thirsty the whole time). Anyway my back, arms and legs are now painfully sunburned in a chain-link fence type pattern, and that figures since tomorrow I have to wear a red & white polka dotted backless bridesmaids mini dress that’s of course, completely arm bearing. At least I was wearing a helmet or my upper face would’ve burned like the bottom half of my face. I’m now controlling the drooling from the corners of my mouth, but my blistered lips still look like swollen skin balloons.

Gee, can’t wait to take pictures tomorrow,

Kristin

Song of the Day:

Fu Manchu, “Chevy Van”