RETRACTION!!!!!

Dear readers,

            It has come to the attention, of Life: The Guidebook (blog version), and our editors, through multiple sources, that there has been some confusion as to who (whom?) Karl was referring to as the subject of a blind date in his previous post. It was NOT, we repeat, NOT someone by the name of Mallory Everton. Although, Miss Everton is a frequent topic of discussion here on Life: The Guidebook, she was not the subject of the afore mentioned blog post. Karl (as far as we know) did actually go on a date with a real person (not a local celebrity, celebrity look-alike, or figment of his imagination).

            To Miss Everton and her fan base, we issue a formal apology and will gladly compensate her for any damages to her name and brand, which may have been incurred during the confusion.

            Hopefully, most of our readers (which we now know are more than just Karl’s mother, because more than one of you approached us about this issue) recognize the absurdity of the suggestion that Karl actually went out with Miss Everton and did not instantly drop dead of a heart attack. Let’s be honest, it’s never going to happen.

Side Note-Karl has asked us to include this summary of what the date would probably look like if it did happen:

            First, dinner somewhere fancy…but not so fancy that you can’t order a glass of chocolate milk…and blow bubbles in it…like maybe Denny’s. Then an activity that will blow your mind! We’re talking like maybe renting out Classic Skating and having them bust out the ramp so we can attempt some sweet tricks (another side note: I once had a friend who told me he hit his head on the ceiling at Classic going off this ramp while doing a trick called a 360 genie, which is supposedly a trick where you cross your legs Indian-style in mid-air while rotating 360 degrees. Yeah, I don’t believe him either). Get excited for snowball too, because it’s just going to be us two, so guess who (whom?) I’m choosing?

            Either that or we just find something good to watch on TV. 

            

Blind Dates

            So the thing about blind dates is…well come to think of it there are many things about blind dates. But the main thing is that I hate them. I’m 30, single, and living in Utah County, which means I’ve been on like a bazillion blind dates. (Side note: for those fact checking, a bazillion is a made up number. I’ve probably only been on like 50 or something. But it’s a lot). This means I’ve spent an inordinate amount of my personal time (and money) doing something that I hate. Lucky me.

            Why, Karl, you ask, do you hate blind dates so much? Let me explain:

            First, the person or people who try to set me up are almost exclusively married/in a serious relationship. I’ve observed over the years that some strange things happen to people that are married/in a serious relationship. They forget what it was like to be single. I’ve seen it over and over again. Take for example any of my former friends and roommates who are now married. A few weeks ago they could have been sitting on the couch (un-showered and wearing sweat pants) with me, eating fast food and complaining to me about women and how they’ll never understand them and how dating is the worst, and then BOOM! They meet someone and get married and the next day they have magically transformed into some kind of dating expert. They have now unlocked the secrets of the universe and if you would only do exactly what they did, you will be married too in no time at all!

            The problem I have with this is that no two stories about how people met are alike, and almost all of them involve a good deal of dumb luck. And then there’s that irrational and unpredictable factor that always seems to come in to play. Some people refer to it as love I think? And it seems like once that factor is introduced, any type of method or plan that a ‘dating expert’ could potentially give me goes out the window anyway, right?

            Anyway, the point is that, even with all their expertise now that they’ve mastered dating and moved on, the best way they have come up with to help others get married is to blindly throw two single people together and hope that they stick!

            It’s like the only criteria they are looking for when setting me up is that the other person is also single. Not age, attractiveness, intelligence level, (gender) or any other quality that might indicate compatibility. Just the single-ness of the other person.

            I can’t tell you how many blind dates I’ve been on (dates where I was set up by someone close to me, someone who I may have even spent hours and hours discussing how I felt about women and my preferences, someone I trusted) where I finally meet the person they’ve set me up with and it makes me wonder if they even know anything about me at all!

            (Side note: to those of you reading this who may or may not have tried setting me up in the past, just know that I’m still grateful for your efforts. I know you’re just trying to help).

            Second thing I hate: Why do you assume that because I’m single I either need or want you forcing me to date strangers?

            Hey I know I look pathetic and unable to talk to women or decide who I want to date on my own (ok, so there may be some slight truth to that in my case). But I do live in Utah County. I’m surrounded by eligible bachlorettes! I actually know quite a few girls and believe it or not a lot of them are pretty in to me! Some have even proposed marriage (false). The point being here is that I have a hard enough time asking out the girls I know and that I know I like. So why in the world would I want to go out with someone I don’t know at all? 

            There are many other reasons I dislike blind dates (including that it’s a form of normal dating, which I also hate). But, mainly, to me it just seems like such an ineffective and awkward way to meet someone. You’re meeting each other for the first time in a situation where you both know the other person is weighing and measuring you, how you look, how you talk, what your job is. And then passing some sort of judgment based on these surface/superficial qualities. And yes I realize that’s what dating is in general (part of why I hate it). But on blind dates I think that judgment happens almost instantaneously, at which point, no matter what judgment was made (most of the time it’s that neither of you are really interested in the other person), you then force yourselves to spend the next few hours together (which will feel like 3 days). One of you (me) also gets to pay.

           

            So, about 3 or 4 years ago (maybe longer) I just started dodging any and all attempts by people to set me up. I had just had enough. ‘I know how much you like talking on the phone to strangers so here’s a strangers phone number so you can call them and see if they’ll have an awkward lunch with you’ is all I hear when people try to set me up. So I’ve been dodging. But people are persistent. They must REALLY want me to meet all these single women they know in an awkward date setting! And so they persist.

            Well, I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings anymore. So I’ve come up with some guidelines for setting me up. If you follow the guidelines I’m about to post, I will go out with the girl you think is single enough for me to fall in love with.

1. It has to be a double date with the person setting me up. Look, if it goes bad (which it will) at least I can talk to you. And if you want to set me up badly enough to also accompany me on a possible train-wreck of a date, then you must be pretty confident in who you’re setting me up with. (This rule applies to you to Mom!)
2. I don’t want to do any work. If you just give me the phone number of a girl I have never seen nor met and tell me to call her, I can promise you one thing: I will not call her…ever. I want the date to be planned and arrangements made for me to pick up the girl without me having to talk to her. Better yet, I just want to show up somewhere and she’s already there with you (you, the people I’m doubling with because you chose to set me up).
3. She has to have seen a picture of me, preferably a bad picture of me, and still agree to go on a date with me. The last thing I need is for someone to go into shock upon seeing me for the first time (take that how you want). I don’t care as much about seeing a picture of them, because, you know, I’m not into all the superficial stuff like how someone looks. Because…what’s on the inside, right? (Actually it’s because I’m just going on this date as a favor to you and do not expect it to actually go anywhere so it doesn’t matter what they look like).

            That’s really it. Not to bad, right? I’ll even pay and everything! (For me and my date at least. Don’t get greedy now!). So let the set-ups begin!!!

            Actually, they have begun already. Thursday night, I had some friends meet all of the qualifications, and I went on a blind date…

            And in perhaps the most shocking turn of events in my short time here on this Earth, my friends who set me up, knocked it out of the park! And I’m not just talking one of those dinky home runs that barely clears the fence…I’m talking a Grand Slam, hit by Mark McGuire while he was on steroids in the late 90’s (side note: I do not like baseball). If you would have told me there was a person out there who loves going to BYU football and basketball games, but also enjoys watching a Lord of the Rings marathon with her family, and also I would be attracted to this person’s looks and personality, and also that this person was female, I would have spat directly in your face…ok I would not have spat but I would have at least laughed.

            At this point I’m assuming that you (the thousands upon thousands of readers of this blog) are assuming that this date went really well. If you’re assuming that, then your assumption, unfortunately, is WRONG!

            To back this up a bit, before the date as I got ready, I was also wrongly assuming that this was going to be a normal blind date, and was praying that it could end swiftly and painlessly (just like my own life will one day end…hopefully). But nevertheless, I prepared.

            Another reason I hate dating: I get anxious. Like borderline 'I need professional help' anxious. I’ve tried to explain to people that I don’t have an anxiety problem. I have an anxiety avoidance problem. My life is built around staying out of any situation that could potentially cause me to feel anxiety. Hence, the main reason I don’t usually date is to avoid feeling anxiety. But I prepared to fight the onslaught of anxiety by taking an antacid and a bunch of pepto-bismol. Which probably would have been fine by itself.

           

            But a couple of weeks earlier, word of my anxiety (avoidance) problem had begun circulating throughout my extended family. And a well-meaning relative had given me a couple of little yellow anxiety pills to try to help me out. I have no idea what they are and never intended to take them. Because you see, the problem with anxiety avoidance is that since I’m always just avoiding situations that cause anxiety, I don’t feel the need for any type of medication. Make sense? Good.

            Well, on this night, I just thought, ‘Why not? What the H-E-double-hockey-sticks. This is just some dumb blind date anyway’, and I took the mystery medicine.

            15 minutes later at dinner, my world began spinning. I was light-headed and dizzy and a bit sleepy for most of the evening. I definitely tried to use my best ‘game’ (of which I have very little already) because my friends had set me up with potentially the PERFECT WOMAN!  But I don’t think my ‘game’ mixed to well with the medicine. I’m not exactly sure what happened, but I think my best ‘game’ became just kind of staring at her stupidly (most likely with my mouth hanging open) hoping she’d ask me a question or something (which she never did). I do know that I felt really weird, I lost a game of miniature croquet, and I had absolutely no anxiety… that is until the point of the date when I was supposed to ask her for her number or some type of information for future use in contacting her (again, this was maybe the perfect women…but also maybe just the drugs? Either way I blew it).

            I’ve now written close to 2000 words in this entry, without one mention of Mallory Everton, and it’s all been leading up to this one question, for you (the avid and massive readership of this blog). I’m sure I made a terrible impression, and I’m sure she wasn’t too interested in me on this date, due to a number a factors. But, I would really like to know if she is the perfect woman. What do I do? Good luck.

Changing Environments

            Hello everyone! If you are a first time reader of this blog, congratulations. You’ve just stumbled upon the greatest blog in the history of mankind (according to some sources). FACT: In almost 3 years of operation this blog has already had 4,700 page views. That’s LITERALLY over 1,000 views per calendar year. Numbers don’t lie people. Do the math.

            I’ve made some pretty significant life choices over the past few months, and I decided it’s time for an update. And I know you have nothing better to do than read about my life, so you’re welcome.

            I’ll start of by telling you that I have recently changed environments. It really has taken its toll on me. Moving from Provo to Orem is a bigger change than you might think! First I had to move out of my parent’s basement, so warm and cozy…and free. It hasn’t been easy. I live in an apartment now and sometimes I go open the fridge and think ‘Hey, where’s all the food?’ And then I remember that now that I’m living on my own, if I want food I have to go buy it myself (or drive over to my parents house).

           

            Second, I also began attending a new single’s ward. For those non-LDS readers of this blog (probably no one), a ward is a group of Mormons that live in close proximity to each other and worship together on Sundays. A single’s ward is where regular Mormons have decided to put those of us who are not married and have become menaces to society (this happens to Mormon men at age 26), to basically get us out of the way because we are super awkward and don’t know what it’s like to love. It’s also an attempt to get us singles to mingle, fall in love, and get married, and then, hopefully most of us (statistically speaking, about half) will live happily ever after for the rest of time and eternity. Well, this has been a particularly difficult adjustment for me. To give you some reference, I had been attending my last ward pretty much exclusively since 2006. For single’s wards, that’s an extremely long time. People aren’t supposed to BE in single’s wards that long. I was. And it was awesome! I was completely comfortable. Because I had been there so long (and, as a natural effect of that, had almost every calling), I kind of reached a status where no one really questioned my actions. If I wanted to attend Relief Society instead of Priesthood, I just did it (for those non LDS readers, Relief Society is exclusive to women…so yeah, I ALWAYS wanted to go to Relief Society instead of Priesthood. Little known fact about single’s ward Relief Society: It smells AMAZING in their room. It’s like you’re laying in meadow filled with wild-flowers while someone’s baking cookies nearby and also someone is shoving fruit up your nose. It’s fantastic). And no one ever said anything.

            So since I’ve been in my new ward I’ve really been trying to make a good impression, to hopefully get back to a point where I can just attend Relief Society again instead of Priesthood. Luckily for me, there are plenty of opportunities to do so in the single’s ward, because, in an effort to get us married off, the church spends quite a bit of time and money on single’s ward activities. At the first activity I attended in my new ward, we played a game called Human Foosball (it’s exactly what it sounds like). Well, in an effort to impress the ladies, I may have become a bit over-zealous in this game of Human Foosball (albeit a very completive and serious sport in some circles). And as a result, I ripped my shorts. And when I say ripped, I’m not talking about a little tear. I mean they ripped, almost completely off. Needless to say, I had made and impression.

            The next activity I attended was kickball (side note: if you haven’t played kickball as an adult, you haven’t lived!!! It was an absolute blast and over a series of 3 or 4 weeks our ward won the championship. Orem 4^th Ward rules). Another perfect opportunity to impress, and hopefully redeem myself from the short ripping incident. Well, my first ‘at bat’ went well, except that I pulled my hamstring. Let me repeat that. I pulled my hamstring, playing kickball... You know, you hear a lot about those devastating kickball injuries, but you never expect it to happen to you. Anyway, so I was left with no choice but to continue to play hurt, because that’s the smart thing to do. And each time I kicked it got worse and worse until all I could do was slowly hobble around the bases. Which, in hindsight was a good thing, because I didn’t want all the girls to just like me because of what a great athlete I am. I want them to like me for what’s on the inside.

            If you think that just ripping my shorts and pulling my hamstring in the first two weeks being in my new ward was enough to tell people everything they needed to know about me, think again! On a Sunday soon afterwards, I gave myself a haircut, attended 3 hours of church, and then upon arriving home and to my absolute horror, I found that I had missed a sizeable patch of hair on the back of my head.

            And if you think that ripping my shorts, pulling my hamstring, and going to church with only a partially shaved head was enough to tell people everything they needed to know about me, think again! Over the past month I have given a Priesthood lesson and a talk in church, and for some strange reason I felt compelled to tell everyone in the ward about my very deep and personal social and financial problems!

            There’s really no way to know how many hearts I’ve broken so far in my new ward.

            But seriously it’s been good and it’s starting to grow on me.

            I also started a new job. I am currently the manager at DP Cheesesteaks in Provo. I know it doesn’t sound like much, but when you consider that 2 of my 3 favorite foods are cheese and steak, it’s really a pretty good deal. Come in and see me sometime. The food really is fantastic.

            And as for the love life, well, having one is still a possibility at some point in the future I suppose. I got pretty close to going on a blind date a week or so ago. It was supposed to be a double date with my cousin (who was setting me up), but at the last minute she wasn’t able to come, which would have left just me and a girl going out alone (can you imagine!), so I panicked and backed out too. So things are looking up!

CELEBRITY CRUSH WATCH:

Still no response from Mallory, even after I pretty much single handedly helped her win that Facebook contest. BUT, the good news is…this:

So a friend of mine texted me last night and invited me to go to a ‘story telling’ event. I didn’t know what this meant. But he told me Mallory Everton would be there telling a story. So I said ‘that sounds weird, but I’m in!’

Maybe I’d get to finally meet her and confess my feelings!!! So I changed in to my most impressive outfit (shown below),

sprayed on some Axe body spray, and off I went to the story telling. And it was exactly that. Just people getting up on stage and telling stories about themselves. Mallory was the story telling finale (obviously) and she was awesome (obviously). And then it was over. And I had my chance. There were only like 30 people at this thing and I was sitting directly across from her. The whole show I psyched myself out to go talk to her after and just introduce myself casually and then casually ask her if she wanted to get married. But anyway, it ended and I had to pass right by her to leave, and then…I walked right by her and out the door without even looking directly at her (obviously).  Look, if there’s one thing I’ve learned about women it’s that they hate it when guys just come right out and start talking to them and stuff.  You don't want to seem too eager. Right?

Anyway, if you’re still reading this, thanks. And have a great day!

My Future Wife Needs Our Help!!!

Look, I don't know if Mallory Everton is actually my future wife. I'm not a fortune teller. I can't see the future. And, despite two beautifully worded blog posts expressing my feelings for her, she still has not responded:( My friends and family have encouraged me to give up, and that continuing to post about her is becoming increasingly embarrassing and pathetic. BUT what I do know, is that although my chances may be slim, while I'm still single, Mallory is still one of roughly a billion single females out there in the world that I COULD potentially marry (my mind is telling me there's not a chance, but something inside me, maybe my heart, is telling me to hold out hope just a little longer).

Well, at present, she needs our help to win a contest with some of her co-workers. They are trying to see who's Facebook fan page can get the most 'likes.' And, due to the absolutely MASSIVE readership of this blog, I think we can really help her out.

So please click on this link: Mallory's Facebook Page and 'like' her page. You won't regret it.

Ok, now that's out of the way I can tell you that I'm seriously entertaining the idea of asking out a real-life human girl who I actually know and interact with. If ANY of you reading this know how people do this in the real world let me know. The best idea I've been able to come with is to purchase a live iguana, duct tape its arms and legs to her porch and tie a string around its neck and attach the other end of it to the door knob. Then doorbell ditch her. That way when she opens the door, the iguana's head is ripped off. And I've left a note with it that says 'Iguana go out with me sometime?' with my name and phone number. Thoughts?

My Mom is Better Than Your Mom

            Ok, so, for those of you who read my last post, just wanted to give you a quick update. Shockingly, Mallory has still not contacted me. But I’m not giving up yet!!!  I would now like to give a personal message to Mallory, so the rest of you just skip over the next paragraph please. It’s not for you.

            Listen, Mallory, maybe we got off on the wrong foot. I probably shouldn’t have been so forward in my last post. Chances are things wouldn’t work out between us. Maybe you’d break my heart. Maybe I’d break yours. BUT, what if, just what if, neither of us break the other’s heart? What then Mallory? Is that a risk you are willing to take by continuing to ignore me? And look, I’m not asking for a commitment…just a nice casual dinner…and then maybe a walk around the temple holding hands. THAT’S IT!!! No pressure. If you’re still not sold, here are a few other things you should know about me:

-       I love puppies, but I don’t care for small dogs.

-       I DO NOT like long walks on the beach. Walking in sand makes me tired. But I do like to lie on the beach very much.

-       I have watched every episode of ‘Dawson’s Creek’ so I clearly know what real life (and love) is all about. (Side note: I have also seen ‘Breaking Dawn Part 1’ all the way through. I really wish I could somehow un-see it. But I can’t. I just thought you should know.  I completely understand if this is a deal breaker).

-       I currently hold the rank of Jr. Orange Belt in Kempo Karate (earned in 7^th grade). So I can definitely protect you.

-       Yes, I am 30, but tons of people tell me I look like I’m 29…and that I act way younger than I look.

And that’s just scratching the surface. So, yeah, get in touch with me. I’ll make sure I have all my lines of communication available at all times.

            Now let’s move on to the real purpose of this post. It’s Mother’s Day! And because, first, my Mother is the only consistent reader of this blog anyway, and second,  I just quit my job and then drove to and from Milwaukee, Wisconsin for no real reason and have nothing to show for it…well mother, I have hardly a dime to my name. So I’m dedicating this post to my most wonderful mother, Julee Clark Kowallis. I know this is not as good a gift as last year when I gave you that homemade card with an outline of my hand on the front (this is true), but it will have to do. (And Mallory, if you’re reading this, we don’t even have to go out if you’ll just come over for dinner and pretend to be my girlfriend for a night on Mother’s Day. My mom would flip! Not that she’s a big fan of yours or anything, she just really wants me to bring a girl over for dinner…actually, any girl reading this who would like to come over for dinner and pretend to be my girlfriend, please get in touch with me. Best Mother’s Day Gift ever!).

            I learned to respect my mother at a young age. But that was mainly because of my father. I remember one time being asked by my Mom to take the garbage out and, instead of jumping to my feet and running to take out the garbage with zeal, I, in fact, murmured and procrastinated. I found every excuse not to do it, including shutting my self into the bathroom. Well, this must have upset my mother, because pretty soon my dad came bursting into the bathroom with fire in his eyes, and lifted me off the toilet by my hair (yes, I used to have hair)! And he also had some strong words for me about showing my mom proper respect. Well. I learned a very valuable lesson that day…which was to always lock the door when going to the bathroom. No, but for reals, I did learn how much my dad cared for and respected my mom, and that I needed to have that same respect for her. After all, as she frequently reminds me, she bore me for 9 months.

            This is turning out to be a harder post than I anticipated. I’m not very good at expressing my true emotions, even in writing it turns out.

            The one thing about my mom, and about most moms I imagine, is that they never stop loving you. I know sometimes when she looks at me she wonders ‘Man, what did I do wrong with that kid?’ And that’s the crazy thing about her. I’m the one that is constantly making a mess out of my life. It has nothing to do with how she raised me (I have a tendency to do the exact opposite of what people tell me to do). But for some reason all she can do is love me, and ask herself what more she could have or can still do to help me. She’d be perfectly within her rights to introduce me to people as ‘my idiot son Karl,’ but she never does. In fact, it seems like she can’t help but talk me up to everyone. And she always tells me how much everyone she knows thinks I’m the greatest guy ever, which can’t be true, right? I mean, there’s been some pretty great guys. Abe Lincoln comes to mind.

           

            Anyway, the thing is, when someone loves you unconditionally, even if you don’t understand why they love you that way, you just can’t help but love them back.

            I don’t tell you enough, but I love you Mom. I really do. Thanks for putting up with me. I promise one day I’m going to turn things around, and then I’ll be able to take you on a cruise instead of writing you a blog. Happy Mother’s Day!

I'm turning 30! (Plus a message to my celebrity crush) by Karl Kowallis

          Hello readers of this blog! Thanks for reading...or for at least for clicking on the link so my blog thinks that you read it…and for keeping profanities to a minimum in the comments section.

          I’ve arrived at a point of my life where some serious reflection has been required. I actually don’t know quite what to think or how to feel about this, but I’m turning 30 years old on March 10^th. I don’t know whether to celebrate or go and find somewhere to curl up in the fetal position and wait for death to take me. Anyway, in honor of this momentous occasion, I’ve decided to give you all an update on my life.

            This blog is called Life: The Guidebook for a reason. That reason is that if you wanna know how you should be living your life, all you have to do is read this blog…and then do the exact opposite of everything I do or tell you to do! It’s simple really. So here’s what I’m up to:

            The first thing to know is that, at age 30, I’m constantly working on improving my quality of life. That’s why I am currently back living in my parent’s basement! I know what you’re thinking, that I really should NOT be living in my parent’s basement at age 30, right? Well, yeah maybe you’re right. But look at this from my perspective. I don’t pay rent (if you had a choice between paying rent and not paying rent what would you do?). There is a fridge full of food. And if I get scared at night my parent’s bedroom is right up stairs! It’s the American Dream (this is why we all voted for Obama right?)! The only downside is that if I miss my 11:00pm curfew my parents cut my allowance (I’m just telling a little joke there. They’d never cut my allowance for missing curfew. I might get grounded though).

            I also have a fantastic job! I am a part-time manager at a local Mexican restaurant. I’m kind of a big deal. This is a great job because I know every day I’m probably either going to be yelled at by an angry customer or have to yell at an employee. Surprisingly I actually prefer to be yelled at than to have to yell at someone. Sometimes this makes me less effective as a manager. But I do my best. Recently, to try and motivate the staff, I ‘sorted’ all of the employees into ‘houses’ (yes like on Harry Potter). Now, as the ‘head master’ of sorts, I can go around giving and taking points from people for whatever I want. Employees can really rack up the points by complimenting my looks. The house that has the most points at the end of the month will get an awesome prize (at least that’s what I’m letting the staff believe). How fun is that! Also I have plenty of free time to work on my next multi-million dollar business venture…and to read fantasy novels and watch Hulu Plus.

            I’m also still attending church, which from what I understand about the single-30-year-old-balding-male-living-at-home-with-a-part-time-job demographic, is quite the accomplishment. I spend most of my time at church arguing with the ward clerk about whether my position as EXECUTIVE SECRETARY is higher than his (Neil are you the executive clerk or just the clerk? That’s what I thought).

            As for my love life, to say it’s going really, really well right now would just be an understatement. To give you a point of reference, I usually try to maintain at least 1 or 2 hopeless and secret crushes on girls (actually women) at any given time as well as at least one hopeless crush on a celebrity (just for fun, ok). Well, I’m actually currently engaged in at least 4 legitimate hopeless/secret crushes right now! 4! This is ground breaking for me; especially since the last couple years it’s been a struggle to even find one. I’ve been in a destructive state of mind where I preferred to look at/interact with slices of pizza more than women. I think I’m coming out of it now. Also, my celebrity crushes are usually Hollywood stars that I know I have no hope of meeting or ever even seeing in real life. And even if by some miracle I was to meet, say, Emma Watson, I’d somehow have to convince her that she should be interested in a 30 year old manager of a Mexican restaurant living in his parents basement, rather than in any number of wealthy, good looking celebrities and the like that she has access to (Side Note: I have this same struggle convincing non-celebrity women). And if by some larger miracle I actually were able to convince someone like Emma Watson to be interested in me, I would only end up breaking her heart. Sure, I’d date her for a while, and write bad poetry about her (I’d be doing my best though) and try to learn how to speak in a British accent to make her feel more comfortable, but differences in our religious upbringing and moral standards would be too much and would eventually lead to the downfall of our relationship. Well, things are really looking up on this front as well. Let me introduce you to my current celebrity crush: the beautiful, funny, talented, MORMON Mallory Everton!

Here she is in the hit sketch comedy show put on by BYUTV, Studio C. (Just to be clear she is the on the left doing modified exercises, not the one in the middle or on the right with the mustache):

And she sings, plays the guitar AND has a spiritual side:

And here she is in a commercial for BYU:

Ok…I agree that one is a bit strange, but in some weird way it manages to instill within me a burning desire to attend BYU (again).

Now, the great thing about this celebrity crush is that if by some miracle we meet, and if by some miracle she somehow becomes interested in me, and if by some miracle we begin dating and fall into deep romantic love with one another and she sings me to sleep every night and plays her guitar for me and does funny impressions of Russian women to keep me entertained…well, then we can also get married in the temple. Win, win?

Yes I realize this blog just got real creepy. But if I can’t post creepy stuff to my own blog then where can I? And feel free to stop reading now if you’re starting to feel uncomfortable, because it’s about to get even creepier.

Here’s a picture of me wearing the t-shirt Mallory threw to me during a recent taping of Studio C.

So it’s a bit small for me. I don’t care, I’m still going to keep wearing it everyday under my clothes.

Mallory, if you’re reading this blog, here’s why you should go out with me:

1. I’m not as creepy in real life as I seem in this blog (unless by writing it I’ve actually become as creepy as I seem?).
2. I can only have more success in my life than what I have now. When you’re at the bottom the only place to go is up. So if we go out and you can stand me even a little bit, by my logic things can only get better from there.
3. I haven’t had a speeding ticket in like 5 or 6 years.
4. I enjoy romantic comedies so we’ll never have to argue about going to see one.
5. If we do go out and it’s just as bad as you’re thinking it’s going to be, you’ll have a great story to tell for years to come. And maybe it will even give you some material for another sketch. (PS I have some other great ideas for your show I’d love to bounce off of you. Like, I have this adult-sized bacon slice costume, and somebody could be wearing it in one of the sketches or something. Still fine tuning it).

Anyway, I think you get the picture. Sure it’s not pretty, but it’s a picture. Look, in the NFL or the NBA, sometimes they will draft a player solely on potential. He hasn’t accomplished much yet, but they can see he’s just a freak athlete. That’s how you should view me…as some massive untapped potential that can be molded into something great.

So yeah, feel free to contact me at 801-400-5281. Or on Facebook. Or on Twitter (@karlkowallis). You definitely won’t regret it most likely.

Mallory, or Mal, if I can call you that. You don’t have to be the third wheel anymore.

So anyway, that’s pretty much how my life is going right now…yep.

Bad Date (This Really Happened)...A 3rd Person Narrative by Karl Kowallis

        Here's an updated classic from the world famous Facebook group 'Karl Kowallis isn't getting married and doesn't need your address.' Sorry if this is a repeat for some.
     
         Once, there was a girl Karl had had his eye on for quite some time. They worked together at a local Mexican restaurant and after a few months (it usually takes Karl an abnormally long amount of time to work up enough courage to ask out a girl that he is genuinely interested in) he finally decided to ask her out. To his surprise and excitement, she agreed to go on a date with him.
     
        One of Karl's friends had been bugging him to double with him for quite some time so Karl determined that this would be as good a time as any to do so. So the four (Karl, date, friend, friend's girlfriend), made plans for dinner (which Karl paid for), a short local event (which Karl paid for), and then to go get dessert (previously purchased by Karl and then prepared by Karl {the dessert was cream soda floats. Not as tasty as you would think actually.) at Karl's house. Karl's date forgot to mention that when she agreed to go out with him that night, she meant that only her physical body was going to be able to make it, but that her personality, sense of human decency, and general regard for others, had other places to be.
     
        Dinner was relatively normal (Karl's date ordered something and then didn't eat it). The short local activity was going alright, until the four of them bumped into another friend (a dude) of theirs (actually more of an acquaintance of Karl's and an old friend of Karl's other friend {Confused yet? Good). Well, for some reason, Karl's friend decided that it would be a good idea to invite this other gentleman along with them on the double date! So the double date now consisted of two couples and one additional dude.

         Karl didn't know the guy very well, but one thing he found out quickly was that he had no problem flirting with Karl's date! And, oddly enough, Karl's date's missing personality finally made an appearance as well, and at that point the double date was back on track! There were still 5 people total, only now there were two couples (the friend and his girlfriend, and the date and the random guy) and one chauffeur (Karl).

        So Karl drove the four to his house where he served dessert to them. Then the two couples and Karl played Catch Phrase together, which, to make things worse, Karl's team lost because his team mates (his date and random guy) were too busy flirting with each other. Karl then had the pleasure of taking everyone home.

        Karl also got to sit in the car and wait for about half an hour for his date and the random guy to finish up a conversation they were having, before Karl could walk his date to the door. And so he just sat there in silence and let it happen. And to Karl's shock and horror, the random guy actually got this girl's phone number and made plans to hang out with her while the three of them were sitting in the car in front of her apartment, yes while she was on a date with Karl!

        When this guy finally wrapped things up he said "So Karl, are you going to walk her to the door or what?" And so Karl speechlessly walked his date to the door and let her give him a meaningless hug...unless the meaning of the hug was "Hey Karl. Thanks for spending your hard earned money so I could ignore you all night and make plans in front of you to go out with another guy! I don't even feel badly about this. In fact, I'm glad I said yes to you even though I should've just said no, because that guy who just got my number from the back seat of your car is a $Romney$ (this is true). My plan all along was to try to make this date as terrible as possible so that there would be no chance of you asking me out again (this is also true and confirmed by trusted sources). Hopefully this date was bad enough that I never have to talk to you...or even look at you again. Also, you suck at Catch Phrase. And cream soda floats? Really? Well, here's a courtesy hug, although it pains me to my very core to have to be within even a ten foot radius of you. I hope you die."

Karl didn't date for 6 years after this (false).

The End

This story is not fabricated although I've omitted the names to protect...myself?

Why I hate Valentine's Day by Karl Kowallis

        Sorry if you've already read or heard me tell a version of this story. It just seems appropriate at this time of year and that is why I'm re-telling it. But here's why I hate Valentine's Day...and women (JK any women who are reading this! You are all fantastic and I love each and every one of you!).

        Natalie Wright was the most beautiful 3rd grader at Windsor Elementary, maybe even the world! If you were a male in the 3rd grade at Windsor in 1992, you only had eyes for Natalie. It just so happens that I (Karl Kowallis) was a male in the 3rd grade at Windsor elementary in 1992. 

        I feel like Natalie and I had a fairly serious relationship, considering that during almost every recess period since Kindergarten we had tried to give each other bunny ears (this is commonly done by sneaking up behind the person you want to give bunny ears to, and holding two upright fingers behind their head. It really makes them look foolish!). Did I ever talk to her? Of course not!!! But my friends and I would frequently ride our bikes near by her house. And if we ever saw her outside, we'd yell her name really loudly then ride off as fast as we could (Note: Anyone reading this who is thinking this may still be an effective dating technique, you're right! But I caution you to wear shoes when riding the bike. If you don't, there's a possibility that one or more of your toes can get caught in the pedal when you're trying to ride off so quickly, and you may end up falling off your bike in the middle of the street in front of the girl of your dreams right after you've yelled her name at the top of your lungs. It can ruin the effect and also make you look like an idiot. Not that this happened to me or anything...I'm just saying). So yeah, as you can see our relationship had grown pretty serious by the time we were in the 3rd grade. I had a perfect view of Natalie from my desk, and although she never looked back at me or acknowledged me in any way, I knew she was thinking the same thing I was: We were definitely going to get married someday. Well, as the year rolled along, our relationship continued to progress. We both finished in the top 5 in the Halloween costume contest ( I was a ninja and Natalie was a mad scientist). When we gave presentations on famous people, and I dressed up as an astronaut, and everyone thought I was Neil Armstrong, when really I was John Glenn, and I tried to explain it to the class, but no body knew who John Glenn was, she was there to make fun of me along with all the other kids. Things couldn't have been better! Not to mention, Valentine's Day was upon us. I knew this was my chance to really seal the deal with Natalie once and for all. 

        I devised a fool proof plan to win her heart. First, I had my dad make me a valentine box that would win 1st place in the contest we were having. Those kids who tried to make their valentine boxes on their own had no chance, and winning 1st place would definitely grab Natalie's attention! And the second and final stage of my plan was to give her the normal ninja turtle valentine card that I was giving to everyone else, but instead of just giving her one or two of those little chalk-heart candies, I stuffed her's completely full! Not only that, but I hand selected each candy heart that I put in to make sure that the message was sent ( in those days a misplaced candy heart that said "fax me" on it could be relationship suicide). I considered adding a few cinnamon flavored gummi-lips to her Valentine but I though it might be a little too racy, so I left them out (turned out to be a mistake, but hindsight is 20/20 right?) 

        Valentine's Day arrived and stage one of my plan was thwarted by a valentine box shaped like a penguin, and another that looked like a computer (I still to this day think that the penguin box should have been dis-qualified. What do penguins have to do with Valentine's day? Hey, kid, I think you got Valentine's Day and Christmas mixed up! There was no competing with the computer though). My choo-choo train valentine box (built 100% by my father) took only 3rd place. But I still felt like 3rd might be enough to at least gain a little of Natalie's interest. Then we passed out our Valentines and at that point only time would tell if stage two of my plan was successful. 

        Kids began opening their Valentines eagerly. I just sat back and waited. But then something happened that I had not planned for. Some of the other guys in the class had already opened the Valentines they had gotten from Natalie. And they were proudly showing each other that Natalie had hand written "I love you" in each of their Valentines. At first a wave of insane jealously hit me, but then, as more guys congregated to boast about the Valentine Natalie had given them, I realized that she had hand written "I love you" in ALL of the guys Valentines! My heart lifted as I started to frantically search through my pile of Valentines. I was about to get a hand written note from Natalie Wright! And not only that, it was going to be a hand-written note telling me that she LOVED me! I couldn't contain my excitement, to the point that my teacher (Mrs. Mellor) had to ask me if I was alright and told me I needed to calm down. I believe I may have been making some sort of gurgling noise as well as banging the train valentine box up and down on the desk as I was searching for Natalie's valentine. And then there it was in front of me. "To: Karl From: Natalie" My heart skipped a beat. Pink and Purple heart-shaped stickers decorated the envelope. I tore it open. I didn't even bother to eat the candy inside. It was a care bears valentine, and one of the bears on the front was shooting a rainbow out of it's belly. I unfolded it. And there, scrawled in Natalie's 3rd grade penmanship, was a hand written note just for me. "Karl, I do NOT love you." The "NOT" was also circled and underlined to make sure that I fully understood her message (message received Natalie...message received).
        
        I wanted to disappear. Or to die. I felt like instead of a care bear shooting a rainbow at me out of its belly, it had shot something else. Something terrible. Like a bunch of unpaid bills or tax documents or something. Nothing could have prepared a 3rd grader for the range of emotions that were rolling through me. My life was officially over. I went home that day and in a fit of rage, tore apart my 3rd prize winning Valentine box. All of my dad's hard work destroyed, just like my heart.
       
        That, my friends, is why I hate Valentine's Day.