Hello fellow Teammates and Blogger groupies!

I am excited to be a part of this team and run my second half-marathon.  I trained half as much as I should've for the first one, and it looks like I'm on course to repeat my mistakes so here's to putting in a quarter of the effort needed to run a marathon!

 But first things first.  Allow me to introduce myself:  The details of my life are quite inconsequential.  My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink, he would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Some times he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy, the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical, summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds, pretty standard really. At the age of 12 I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen, a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles. There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum, it's breathtaking, I suggest you try it.  

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