Dear Neal,

It comes to my attention that though you are the archytypal jock, I have no idea what to do with you. You're vain, not too smart, but not stupid enough to make it a comedy point. How the hell you wrangled yourself into my main character, I don't know, because I like having some semblence of originality - yet I purposely used a cliche, you bastard - except while I chattered with the jocks in high school, I don't actually know shit about them. Oh, the vague sense of 'they're really nice guys who just turn their brain off when in packs' is a given and 'if they REALLY REALLY like her, they're  more likely to walk into a wall than ask what she's reading', but there are SUBSETS of jocks! The truly eroneous ones that give all other jocks a bad name, like Bud or Buzz of Buff from Back to the Future,  and the closet geniuses who have a confidence problem when it comes to their brain size, and then there's you, Neal. You are niether. You are as average as a jock gets. Sure, you're 6'4'', gorgeous, and build like the sleekest freight train this side of the Atlantic, but you're utterly predictable - IF ONLY I KNEW HOW!

Sincerely,
The Boss

P.S. - Your socially-stunted underaged genius of a roommate is cute. Be more like Russell.