Notes
"You guys aren't going to run marathon pace are you?", someone says (and when I say someone I mean Cremer). "No, let's just run easy", I say. "Good", they both say. Whatever. Fuckers. And to think, I brought them popsicles. Real, honest to goodness popsicles with sticks in them and everything. Fuckers. But really, this is Doug's fault. It's always Doug's fault.