This is It.

Dear Brett:

So I was just hanging out on a Friday night listening to Nelly on repeat.

I hardly think you’re in a position to judge me Brett. 

Not the point, the point is, I was just sitting here and realized it was time. 

Time to face what can be best described as a harrowing couple weeks being your unauthorized biographer.

Let me clear up a couple rumors first:

1.  1.  I’m not Jenn Sterger. She has at least twice the boobs I have. Oh and she’s a total slut.

    2.  I understand that for approximately 11 months BEFORE the world heard of old Huge Tits Sterger I repeatedly said things like, and I quote:

a.       “Show us you’re cocky.”

b.      “Toss me a bone.”

c.       “Get filthy.”

d.      “Show your horns.”

My bad. Clearly a witty repertoire of double entendre lost some degree of subtly on a Mississippi boy like yourself. So I come here to repent.

3. And yes, the boob size is OBVIOUSLY the only difference between me and Stergtits. Please.

It’s time for me to redirect the ship. So to speak.

Brett.

My fucking team is 2-5.

Moss showed up, shat his nest and got Chilled.

Syndey’s not back. Percy’s hurt. And for fuck sakes, Childress is still the coach.

So let me go ahead and make this clear – sack up….errrr, I mean, pull it together….shit….ok, what I’m trying to say is, “Help us O Holy One. You’re our only hope.”

Trust me. I don’t care how pissed Deanna was when she saw you gave Lil’ Brett a gander down the Information Superhighway, you’ve seen nothing like the wrath that spews forth if I don’t see a football game this week.

God save you Brett. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.

Love, Sarah