I give up

I give up on making things up about Rebecca Haarlow. It turns out that it's a lot more fun in your living room when you can say negative or slanderous things and not worry about hurting anyone's feelings. But if I were a minor local sorta-celebrity, I would google myself daily and would feel bad reading about how I once got so mad even Allen Iverson told me to calm down. Or how I once had my stomach pumped because I ate an entire bulk bin of whole nutmegs. Or how my affair with Joel Przybilla ended because I wouldn't make him waffles after I beat him at Horse. Well, maybe I wouldn't feel bad. Maybe I'd just feel confused. Anyway, I can't bring myself to publish most of the probably-more-confusing-than-mean things I come up with, not even for laughs on a stupid blog probably only ten people have ever read. (Although the three I came up with just now are pretty good. And not at all mean.)