The Chronicles of Douchebagia
As promised, Richard M. Sarkisian's letter, which pretty much blames me for getting hit-and-ran. If I may address only Richard M. Sarkisian, of Sicklerville (and the illustrious Camden County Community College), for a moment:
The only way somebody could know what I looked like while walking on the street that night is if they ran me over and took off. So, feel free to take the claims that you "felt very badly for" me and wish me "nothing but the best," and shove them back down your arrogant throat, Dick.
P.S. The iPod battery died hours beforehand, and I didn't realize I was responsible for lighting the streets that I walked upon rather than recklessly driving drunk, which I probably should have in retrospect. Now, feel free to get your busy lil brain working on a counter-argument since you clearly don't know what the fuck you're talking about.