My typing speed is up to fifty-two words per minute. My accent, according to the ancient videodisc recordings, is virtually flawless. My grasp of Middle American slang and idioms is, like, solid man. This studio where I'm living with the fake smog out the window is a real slice, y'know?
As they used to say (everything these days is as they used to say), I'm as ready as I'll ever be. Now it's just a matter of convincing my professors. They'll come around soon enough.
1 May, 2857