Dear ABC

Dear ABC,
We’ve all done some bad things before. I mean, when I was a kid, I lied and said my brother hit me, because I was mad at him and wanted to get him in trouble. I get it, we’re not perfect.
But really, ABC? Really? A full season order for The Neighbors?
This is the same network that couldn’t find a way to make a brilliant workplace sitcom like better Off ted work for the network, right? Well, I guess I could blame this on the American viewing public, but don’t worry, they have it coming to them. For now, ABC, I’m mad at you. For shame. I mean, as if putting that garbage out into the world isn’t bad enough, you hafta give people more? That is messed up, my friends. Messed up.
Sincerely,
Calhoun

Dear Thesis

Dear Thesis,
Lick my taint.
Oh, I’m sorry, did you need me to cite that?

Kersten, Calhoun. Calhoun Kersten’s Book of Euphemisms for Obnoxious Academic Exploits. Self-published. 2012.

Oh, and let me leave you with this… eat a dick (Kersten, 2012).
Sincerely,
Calhoun

Dear Liver

Dear Liver,
You’re probably mad at me. I don’t blame you.
I took you for granted this weekend. I mean, bar hopping on Friday?
You’re 25 years old, for God’s sake! Start acting like it!
Plus, when I do stuff like that, I usually end up making bad decisions… prime example?
Evidently, we made out with some guy on Friday wearing a shirt that said, “It’s my birthday, wanna fuck?”
I say “we” but really, poor Liver was just along for the ride.
But it’s okay, from here on out, I’m taking better care of you!
I’m instituting an alcohol ban… well, except wine. I mean, that’s pretty much just fruit juice… oh, and beer. I mean, beer is how I get my daily grain intake… and everybody knows vodka doesn’t count, cuz it’s clear, right?
Okay, I’m still working out the details of this alcohol ban, but we’ll talk.
Sincerely,
Calhoun

Dear Voters

Dear Voters,
It’s that time of year again.
Don’t be an idiot. Get informed. I’m talking about more than just watching the debates. Follow through.
If you did, you’d see how frequently Mitt Romney was mistaken and/or outright lied in each debate.
It’s not hard to do.
There are tons of partisan websites that can help you sort through the issues.
And if you don’t or you don’t vote, you lose the right to complain about teh way your country is run.
Oh, and I’ll kick you.
The more you know.
Sincerely,
Calhoun

Dear Grindr Guys

Dear Grindr Guys,
Hey, how’s it goin’? Look, I know it’s pretty much a glorified mobile app for cruising, but I was wondering if we could talk?
For those who are unfamiliar with the set-up of Grindr, there’s a little profile that you fill out, allowing you to display your stats and all that as well as a minuscule “About Me” section. Since I’m not likely to take the app too seriously (nay, not seriously at all) the “About Me” section is simply a quote from one of my favorite songs.
“I know my days are numbered, but I’m bad at math.”
It’s great in the context of the song and it’s just, I dunno, something short and clever or whatever.
Now, back to you gentlemen (a term I use very loosely) of Grindr. What about somebody that you’ve never met before says you should start the conversation off with, “Baby, you don’t need to be good at math with that body” or “I can tutor you…” followed by a lewd emoticon? Even if the quote wasn’t a song lyric, you really think the way to get someone to sleep with you is by capitalizing on their intellectual insufficiencies? Don’t get me wrong, I know most people on there are just looking for the bodies, but calling someone stupid doesn’t usually do a whole lot for them. There’s a difference between being physically attractive and that being the only thing you have to offer. I don’t particularly see myself as that attractive, so I’ve always prided myself on my ability to form an intelligent thought.
So maybe just stick to a “hi” or whatever, maybe don’t even message me at all, but definitely don’t message me if your idea of flirting is calling me a moron because I have good taste in music.
Sincerely,
Calhoun

Dear Potential Employers (Pt. 2)

Dear Potential Employers,
… hire me? Oh, I’m sorry, where is my sense of professionalism? Hire me, please.
See, I’m not gonna lie to you. Am I the perfect employee? No.
Am I probably gonna show up to work hungover? Most definitely.
But here’s the thing, and I don’t mean to sound cocky or anything, but most of the jobs that I’ve been turned down for?
A monkey could do them. Not even a super-smart one. I’m talking the monkey who graduated last in his class from monkey college.
(Side note, how cute does monkey college sound? Ooh, and their graduation ceremony? Little chimps throwin’ their little graduation hats in the air… okay, I’ve lost focus, back to the point at hand)
I’ve been hearing a lot of “over-qualified” which, I must admit, I’m a little confused on. Over-qualified is… bad? I mean, I’m choosing to work in a place that they won’t hire me because they, what, want better things for me? Well, if I’m over-qualified just about everywhere I go, that kinda leaves me broke and job-less.
What level of over-qualification means you can’t get a job anywhere?
If by “over-qualified” you mean “we’re not willing to pay you what you’re worth in the working world,” that’s cool too. I’ll take a serious salary cut because, well, right now, I don’t have a salary.
Think about our talk. If I don’t get a job soon, I may hafta get another degree just to put off adulthood.
Sincerely,
Calhoun

Dear Readers

What does a random miniature shirtless guy have to do with you, dear readers? I dunno, let’s just pretend it’s a metaphor or something

Dear Readers,
I’m sorry. I feel more dishonest than President Clinton when he betrayed the trust of the American people by sleeping with that chunky lady in the Oval office… or, ya know, some other outdated example.
I shouldn’t have left you like that. I know that some people out there rely on my postings to get them through the day (I’m pretty sure that’s just one of the lies that I tell myself to stop the crying…) but it’s really not my fault.
My trackpad on my computer kept doing this weird thing where it would drift and sometimes randomly click on things. It was like Ghost Writer except, well, really annoying.
So I decided to give my computer a vacation. Yes, some people would say I took a vacation from my computer but is half a week with limited Facebook, no porn, and whatever random song my trackpad decides to click on really a vacation?
Maybe it’s just one I wouldn’t be interested in having.
Anyways, short story long (as is frequently done with my inane rambling) I’m sorry for randomly not posting last week, but you can stop bugging your therapists and go back to whining about your abandonment issues from your parents instead of me, just some random blogger.
Sincerely,
Calhoun

Dear “Binder Full of Women”

Dear “Binder Full of Women”,
I’m gonna go ahead and give you ladies the undeserved benefit of the doubt. Yeah, I’ll pretend like you actually exist.
My question, if you hypothetically are alive… how do you hypothetically live with yourself?
I mean, being courted by Mitt Romney, the devil incarnate?
I guess it’s a good thing that none of you could live up to Mr. Romney’s incredibly high standards of truth and integrity… get it? It was a joke… ya know, cuz he doesn’t have high standards of truth or integrity?
Whatever, I thought it was funny… anyways, I’d like to believe you exist, but well, I guess the burden of proof is on Romney now because until I see an actual binder full of women (and I’m not talking about, like, paper dolls or whatever) I have my doubts.
Anyways, carry on with your theoretical lives, I’m sure you’re hypothetically very busy with all the great political figures courting you…
Sincerely,
Calhoun

Dear Upstairs Neighbor

Dear Upstairs Neighbor,
Hey there, guys, lemme just catch you up real quick.
My name is Calhoun, I’m the new guy living in the basement apartment.
Alright, all caught up? Good. Now let’s get down to brass tacks.
Two of you are gay. Two of you are straight.
Us? Down here we make it easy. Big homo apartment.
But you guys, you just insist on being difficult, don’t you?
I mean, I have my hopes for which of you are gay and which are straight, but theorizing doesn’t really help any of us, now does it?
So if you could start wearing name tags… not with your actual names on them, no I’m actually good enough that I still remember them from our introductions. No, if you could wear name tags that state your sexual preference?
Yeah, that’d be great. Or maybe if I could acquire some gaydar? Nah, you guys should probably do the name tags thing… it’s less work on my part.
Sincerely,
Calhoun

Dear 19 Year Old Me

Dear 19 Year Old Me,
A lot has changed in the past six years. I mean, we finally got that awful Bush guy outta the White House, SNL stopped being funny, and on top of all that, you are technically an adult now.
Actually, that’s kinda what I wanted to talk to you about… not only are you an adult at 25, but, well, you’re kinda an old man. I mean, you spent most of yesterday bedridden because of a hangover.
Not just any hangover though, you got yourself a wine hangover, the most middle-aged of all hangovers.
So live it up, buddy. Enjoy your carefree drinking days and don’t take the “no hangover” thing for granted.
Actually… wait, you’re 19? I meant to say, “don’t drink for two more years because it’s illegal…”
Yeah, no, I definitely meant the first one. Enjoy your partying days because they’re long behind me now.
Sincerely,
Calhoun