The three questions I hear the most:

"Keller, how did you get to be so cool?"
"You are so handsome! What gives?"
"Are you in?"

After those questions, I'd say I get the one about my Kustom Kards the most. People can't seem to figure out how they work. Yes, most people are idiots, but I still have an obligation to them. I have to hold their hands from time to time.

Basically, with my Kustom Kards, you give me a recipient and a topic, and I write that person a personal letter using one of my cards. Here are a few examples of cards that I sent out . . .

This one was all about how uncool this Lindsey person is and how this Matthew person agrees with that assessment. Anyway, Lindsey got this in the mail a few days later - handwritten by me on one of my cards. I even paid for postage!

Dearest Lindsey,

It has come to my attention - and to Matthew's - that you are not cool. Bad news for you, no doubt. But look on the bright side: being cool isn't as easy as it seems. I mean there's the paparazzi, all the invites and subsequent rsvps, the catcalls from construction workers. You get the point. You won't have to worry about any of that stuff because you're uncool. You're like that girl who ate lunch by herself in 7th grade. The girl who had no one to sign her yearbook. And it's not just me. Matthew feels as strong, if not stronger. . . . you are the epitome of uncoolitudeness.

Cheers, S

Here's another one in which the sender's dog had run away - the sender insisted that I sign off as Ima Truthful. Whatever. Anyway, apparently the recipient wasn't sympathetic enough. Also, according to the instructions I got, the recipient has an ugly face:

Dearest Veda,

I am writing to let you know that your face is pretty ugly - maybe even the dreaded fugly. In fact, if you had a dog, it would stray, too. It certainly wouldn't come when you called it. No, it'd rather spend its life roaming the highways snacking on carrion than facing your nauseating mug day in and day out. So maybe you should look into some sort of surgery for that. I saw something on Dateline about it. Or maybe that was Vanilla Sky. Anyway, I'm sure something can be done. Til then, do us all a favor and stay indoors, or, if you must run errands, wear one of those balaclava thingys.

Yours, Ima Truthful

This gal requested that I use the magic eight ball card (scroll down to the one with the rocket) of mine and wanted me to make sure the woman receiving the card knew she sucked. I think it turned out well:

Bad news for you, huh? But look on the bright side, you could have like 360 days left to live. Then again, you could have like 3 days to live. My eight ball isn't that specific. But, boy, is it ever right! One time it told me that I'd meet the most god-awful person in the world, and then, bam, I met you like 3 hours later. How could it possibly know that someone so hideous - someone so reprehensible - would walk into my life? It's magic, that's how. Anyway, enjoy your last day(s) on earth. I know I will.

Regards, Your Worst Enemy

# posted by keller @ 12:32 PM