Monday, June 25, 2007

Dear Chris Singel (this is your graduation present)

Dear Chris Singel,
I believe you may have caught me in a particularly emotional moment in my life, but I would like to say I am sorry.

I am sorry I pretended you didn't exist for year. And everytime you would talk I would look past you, and say "What was that annoying buzzing sound?"

I am sorry that I made you drink massive amounts of alcohol for me to acknowledge you. It was a bad claste system I set up.

I am sorry I can never remember your ex-girlfriend's name. It belittles your relationship. Is it Jenna?

I am sorry that I destroyed yourself esteem.

I am sorry that I burned you.

I am sorry that my friends repeatedly hit your head against the ceiling, on multiple occasions.

I am sorry that I said that stuff in front of your mom to make her like me so much.

I am sorry for all those times I called you gay behind your back.

I am sorry that I forced you to take me to your fraternity formal. Although, admittedly, we were awesome that night.

However, Chris Singel, you turned into a very funny courageous person that I may or may not want to hang out with sober. And before I did all those mean things to you, I voted you into receSs. And I am not sorry about that.

You are an idiot to move to Chicago.

Smooches and ill will,
karin louise
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Monday, June 18, 2007


Hello, hi, how are you? That is fantastic, I am glad to hear it. I am a horrible blogger. (Which totally isn't true, I am a fantastic blogger. I am just saying that so you won't be mad at me for not blogging in a while). So, yeah, anways, I am super sorry.

I was in a showcase last night, a talent showcase, to showcase my talent. It was unsuccessful. JUST KIDDING! It was a beautiful ten minutes of plumbing talk. And I loved each and every solitary second of being on stage with my improv class. But now it's over.

So, yeah.... (We both look away and kinda swing our arms). Uh, I guess maybe I will get going or something. Um, it was nice seeing you. (I cross the street, and we start walking in the same direction across the street from each other.) Haha this is awkward (we shout to each other). (Awkward glances and nods of acknowledge meant.) I think about pulling out of my cellphone, but can't think of anyone to call. (And we both stop at the stoplight. Great 25 seconds until we can cross). "Gotta love the countdown" you call over. I nod.

Ok fuck this shit, I am turning down a block just for the sake of getting away from you. To stop this awkwardness.

But now I kind of miss you. And I don't know where I am going. The sun is setting. I don't recognize this block. Everything looks menacing, even the trees. The rats are coming out.

I feel horrible. I should have thought of more to say. It's my fault. I didn't have a plan, I thought I could just wing it. But I couldn't, I didn't. And now I am lost in nightmare city.
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Thursday, June 07, 2007

I am the politest hungover person ever

Ok, first, I am hungover with tinges of still being drunk. Thank you to JP for a wonderful portebella dinner. Not thank you to Sir Jeff who thought we should all go to the bar. And not thank to you to my low self esteem that let's me be swayed by peer pressure.

But as it turns out I am so polite. I said yes, please over and over to the man who made my omelette. And I said thank you to the cashier when she took my credit card, when she gave back my credit card, when she handed me the slip to sign, when she handed me the pen, and when she took my receipt back. That's five thank you's in a twenty second interaction. And when I left I was surprised with myself. Like, wow, I was just super polite.

I am even capitalizing properly. And using punctuation (properly or not, it's fucking there).

What if I drank myself into another personality? Like I was so drunk and awful, that my body has just fucking had it. All the organs gathered and collectively decided that things can't continue like they have. Liver clearly has a fantastic argument. But even Shins are like, "We get beat up all the time. Remember when she ran us into the coffee table really hard? We were bruised for a month!" And arms are like, "Forget that shit, remeber when she made that lighter really hot and then held it against her arm for 'Snake Eyes'? Chick intentionally burned herself because she thought it was cool. We still have that fucking scar." And Feet are like, "Hold the fuck up. We seriously get the shit kicked out of us." And then Shoulders, and Knees, and Teeth all jump in and before you know it they are all appealing to Brain. Pleading with Brain for a new personality.

And now I am really polite.

I am sorry for all the typos in this blog.

(Oh my god! I am so fucking polite!)
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Tuesday, June 05, 2007

Hold Up

So, I was singing Rudolph the Red-nose Reindeer to myself this morning as I was getting dressed. And that whole scenario is bullshit. The facts

- everyone hates Rudolph, they say mean shit about him all the time. that's really horrible, like in reality, that's awful. AND I QUOTE:
"All of the other reindeer
used to laugh and call him names
They never let poor Rudolph
play in any reindeer games

(Like Monopoly!)"- Last part optional

- Santa realizes that Rudolph, the mutant, can help him do his job better:
"Then one foggy Christmas eve
Santa came to say:
'Rudolph with your nose so bright,
won't you guide my sleigh tonight?

- And what happens next? The very reindeers that made fun of him and held him down, now all of a sudden love him:
"Then all the reindeer loved him
as they shouted out with glee,
Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer,
you'll go down in history!

(Like Geogre Washington!)"-optional.

What sycophants!

Honestly, it makes me sick to my stomach. These asshole reindeer think they are all so great because Santa has them drag around a really heavy sled? And what gives them the right to be so mean? And all of a sudden they "love" Rudolph. Please. Bitches are superficial.

And I have been singing it for years. I feel like I have perpetuated an awful stereotype against red-nosed people.

Red-nosed people, reindeer, and others,
I am so sorry. I didn't realize how hurtful this song was. I was just like those awful bastardly reindeer. The song was so catchy, and sung with such cheer that I must have missed it's cruel message all those years. I hope that you can find it in your hearts to forgive me.

P.S. You know what the worst part is? Rudolph just becomes their mascot. He buys into their false love, and he guides that sleigh. Rudolph, I don't know how you sleep at night.
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Friday, June 01, 2007

Drunk Josh's Guest Blog- I haven't even read through it

You know, I was thinking about the other day, under a tree, a magnolia actually, a very nice tree with a history in songs that are sad. I was thinking about being drunk, drunk on booze, wine booze, white and red.

I felt woozy naturally, like I do now, unable to think or type or think at all, woozy like sway-y, swaying back and forth, physically, sure, but also intellectually, tottering about like a dinghy (in a painting) in a violent sea, one that looks cold and dark and basically foreboding.

And then I got to work. "What's up, champ?" That's what brother vegan asked. He's a nice kid, but, no, not a champ. He calls me "champ" because he's a chump, but sort of the lovable kind of chump, the kind of friendly chump your little brother might represent, annoying and tedious and peurile (ahem, that's 'puhr-ul' or 'puhrl-ile,' like I said mister who called me out ostentatiously) and (drunkety drunk other words but still cool, but cool without elaboration, cool in a way that's too thin to bear the important emotional burden of really coming to grips with what it stands for. We're talking about the kind of cool that marketer types toss on billboard and other aesthetically pleasing surfaces like tv screens sometimes, when you're watching them. You that 'cool' type. The kind you've come to accept as basically just the kind of cool that the vegan, or your little brother, represents, because, try as you might, you can't bring yourself to commit any energy to putting anything to real thoughts.

And then I realized I was drunk.

that's my guest blog post, should you accept it.
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