Ahhhhh, Keli—an rare Italian import from the swamps of New Jersey. Coupled with a looming stature of 4’ 3.25”, and the slight possibility that she’s got a Santa-Cruz-license-plate tattoo of Snooki’s portrait on her lower back—you shouldn’t assume you can just go pushing her around. Sure, she keeps a pair of brass knuckles in the pocket of her acid-washed mom jeans, but we’re not worried about them because she’s miraculously mustered the restraint to keep them at bay while sharing an office with Nick. It may be their mutual affinity for cranking the space heater to 11 on a 76-degree day despite the fact that the A/C’s blaring in the rest of the office—but we wouldn’t want to publicly shame them for their monumental waste of the Earth’s natural resources.
So anyway, let’s go ahead and move on to something more important: When we peer-pressured Keli into her first #beerfriday cornhole match, she conveniently ripped-off Jon’s tried, true and beat-into-the-ground tennis elbow excuse for losing. That’s too bad because wish we could take this opportunity to champion the originality of her writing skills. Don't despair, every day's a school day, and we’ll be working closely with her on that. Thankfully, everything else she does around here, and she does a lot—she pulls off by the skin of her gold-capped teeth, so things have worked out quite nicely. Please check back on a quarterly basis periodic progress report.