She Was Like John Rambo Meets Polly Pocket.

Dear Hit-Girl,

I must say that I was very impressed with your new film, Kick-Ass (which is in theaters now). Not only have I become the biggest advocate for this movie, but I have also decided to live my life according to its  philosophies. Personally, as a super hero enthusiast, it stood for everything I stand for: sweet costumes, gratuitous violence, and sassy one-liners. In other words, it is good old fashioned American fun for the whole family.  The fight scenes in this film are epic and you, my friend, are the baddest mother trucker this side of the Atlantic. You literally had me at the edge of my seat with my mouth wide open throughout the entire film. I was STUNNED and all of sudden everything in this sick sad world made sense to me. I haven't been this stoked about a movie since 300 Dark Knight Watchmen.


All my life, I wanted to a superhero and I wanted to be exactly like Batman. He is rich and powerful and also, pretty bad ass. My only qualm about him was that though he was able to beat the living be-jesus out of his foes, he never took the time to actually kill them and actually make them pay for their crimes other than putting them in Arkham Asylum. Now, that I have seen you in action, you are what I aspire to be. You are this crazy bad ass little girl that doesn't even mind if she cuts a bitch. The fact that your long term life goals involve $3 Million of stolen mob money in a duffel bag, a collection of sweet guns and knives, and beating people up makes me feel like I'm not alone in the world... figuratively. The fact that you can take on a whole slue of mobsters by yourself without even scared of getting shot makes me believe in dreams again.

Anyways, I just wanted to tell you that you are the coolest person I have ever seen. I know you are only 11-years-old, but I was hoping that I could maybe be your sidekick or see if wanted to be best friends or something. You have seriously made me reconsider a career as a Disney Channel super star. Though, I thought it was pretty awesome when you and your dad crushed that goon in the trash compactor AND got another guy to shoot himself involuntarily in the face with nothing but a knife and rope (double sweet), most people would say that your morals are a bit questionable. But lucky for you, I barely passed my ethics class. Whatever. Sure, you are a bit of a lone wolf (and I respect that), but I think that we could have a really good dynamic together. You with your too cool for school attitude and me with my rapier wit. Personally, I think that we would kick a lot of ass and take a lot of names.Taking over the world would definitely be realistic possibility. I may need that bazooka... and some knife training, but I'm a quick learner and I loves me a good fight and have a tendency to drop a few elbows.

Go ahead think about it and have your people get back to my people.


Warm Regards,


(idk my bff) Kim

PS You don't even need to pass my Batman vs Superman test. I totally know that you think Superman is a douche and that you prefer Batman. We're totes gonna be BFFL!

Quit your job. Start a fight. Prove you're alive.

My mom, Cheyenne, says that I have too much pent up frustration and that I should channel all my anger into something positive. I really don't think that I get angry that often. So what if I get a little cranky when there's traffic in the morning because of stupid tourists wandering around or because of Oprah deciding to close off 1/3 of The Loop to tape the premiere of her show. And just because I made one person cry with a few low blows about their family being inbred or how their friend looks like Princess Fiona because they didn't like my shirt, it doesn't mean I am overly defensive. Last I checked, not getting your way is something to get upset about. It's not just "a little spilled milk" when that happens to me. And I hardly ever get aggressive. Who hasn't been known to throw an elbow into a face or two? He who hasn't thrown a squirrel across an open field in their hey day cast the first stone, k? Exactly. Don't go around judging me. I've never lost my temper... per se, but long story short, when mom said I needed a hobby to harness all of my negative chi, I realized my true calling: FIGHTING.

Ever since I could recall, I've wanted to start some sort of "fight club", if you will, where you can just gather a big group of average Joes and beat the crap out of each other. We would use this fighting as some sort of therapy or as some sort of escape from our mundane lives. I don't know how this would crossover in middle America especially with today's economy, but it would be fun to gather in some sort of bar basement and fight. I guess I would just have to find a group of people who didn't ever speak about this aforementioned fight club I am proposing. (Insert shifty eyes here.)

Now that I have insurance, I wouldn't mind punching someone in the ear just because I could since I can afford to pay for the repercussions of my actions and since I'm half ninja and all (little known fact about me... write that down). Personally, I think unnecessary violence as seen in such films as Rambo and Gamer, is funny but some people frown upon it. To think about it, I don't know too many people who would, so I guess I would have to find other people that wouldn't mind getting punched in the ear by me. The more I think about it, the more realistic alternative to this would be to just take boxing lessons and take them I shall.

From boxing lessons, I plan to start kickboxing, and from kickboxing, I will probably get into Muy Thai and eventually become a regular on the amateur fight circuit. Everyone in the underground fighting ring of Chicago will know the new "Thrilla in Manila" (sorry Paquio) and the name Kimmie Kerosine---one punch to the face will leave you looking like a burn victim or something equally catchy. Some kid will make up the catch phrase later. But anyways, from there, I will take over and become Queen of the Fight (Get it? It's a play on words refrencing the popular Whitney Houston song, "Queen of the Night").

Then on one gloriously cold day in the midst of December, Dana White, will discover me and ask me to join the UFC because I would have already beat up every single woman MMA fighter as far as the eye can see. I'd beat everyone up with one swift round house kick, a quick one-two punch, and a quick elbow to the face. With those three moves, I would earn every belt from every weight class. That's right, every weight class. The only way, I could be better is if I beat the crap out of myself, but that is just way too existentialistic (yes, that is a real word). I'd be so good that they would have to make a NEW new American Gladiators just so that I can tear up prime time television just as much as pay-per-view. By the time I surpass my prime, which is probably going to be when I'm 27-years-old, I think that I will have to retire on top and join the cast of Dancing with the Stars. I can only be 99.9% sure that I would champion that show too.

God, I'm awesome.

The point is, I'm not an angry person and I don't have anger issues. I just like to fight and/or cause fires.

"I WILL EAT YOUR BABIES, BITCH."