The man, the myth, the (not so) legend

Fuck. You. Carl. Seriously, I mean it. Fuck you.

F-U Carl has been my battle cry since day one. It has been greatly debated where I first said those words to my best friend Heather on June 13th 2019. I’m convinced I said it in the emergency room. She’s adamant I said it in the Lyft on the way home. Either way - I had given my tumor a name. (But, I know I’m right.) Carl sucked in a big way and now I could voice any frustration towards something and not just into the void. I didn’t know what it was yet or what it looked like but it had a name and I cursed it any chance I got.

The question “Where did you get the name Carl?” was one of the first five questions people would usually ask me after hearing the news. Did I have an exboyfriend Carl? No, and even if I did, I would NEVER name something in my body after a guy. #toxicmasculinity. Was there someone I hated named Carl? No, and see previous answer. Was it from a movie or show or book? No, but you’re going in the right direction. Has anyone been to Copenhagen? Specifically the Royal Palace - Amalalienborg? No? Well I highly suggest going - it’s beautiful!

Jumping for joy right before learning about Carl. I also accidentally kicked off my sandals while taking this picture.

We have to go way back in time to July 5, 2018. The day I discovered the tale of a Danish commoner child named Carl. When going to a museum, I do the normal thing of reading the pamphlet and/or the sign next to whatever I’m looking at. Then I do the other normal thing of filling in the missing information with what you would call “alternative facts”. A museum or gallery can’t fit ALL of the information needed so that is where Heather or I would step in. Not to brag but we did have people compliment our stories in 3 different museums we had visited on this trip. But yes, I’m totally going to brag because we are hilarious and entertained so many people. But I digress; back to Carl. 

We chose the self guided tour that took us through the different rooms with pictures and short bios of the kings and queens and princes and princesses. We ooh’d and ah'd over the personal trinkets on display. We marveled at the furniture and statues and decor. We also learned that we were terrible at reading aloud any of the Danish names. So apologies to the people of Denmark for butchering your language. Early on in the tour we got to the timeline where Frederik VI was born. We had no idea our lives would be changed forever.

There was one factoid that we saw and it became the gift that kept on giving. We read on a small sign that when Frederik was a young boy they brought him a commoner child to play with named Carl. It didn’t explain how this child was chosen or really any other details. It was just noted that he was only a playmate for a couple of years. Well, that was it. Immediately, we were throwing out stories about what these two would do together. We were very curious what the dynamic was like between them. Was he really a playmate? Did Frederick order him around? We were convinced Frederik would say things like “dance for me Carl” or “entertain me Carl” or “shut up Carl.” We wanted to know why he only stayed for such a short time. Was he replaced by another commoner child? Did he name all the replacement friends Carl? How long did each Carl last?  Our imaginations were running wild and they could not be tamed. 

Throughout the rest of the trip we would randomly yell out “shut up Carl” and just start laughing. The story was just so absurd to us and brought so much unexpected joy to our lives. (If you are questioning that we actually said this, please go ahead and check my instagram post from July 12, 2018) After we got back from our trip, we would occasionally throw out a “shut up Carl” or “make me laugh Carl”. Over the course of the year, our love for Carl never waned. 

Me in front of the palace. Also, are you even a tourist if you don’t take at least one photo like this?

That brings us back to my least favorite date of June 13th. Sometime between 4-5pm I said the very first “fuck you Carl”. I didn’t have to explain to Heather what I was talking about. She just knew and immediately jumped on board cursing his existence. No one questioned me for giving it a name and for that I’m appreciative. Having to explain the story of how and why I picked this name is a little weird but so am I so it’s fine.

I know there’s a chance you think we may have misread that sign or we were just making the whole thing up. I promise you, I am not. You can read all about the short and tragic life of Carl. And if you feel like it, just yell out “fuck you Carl”. I’m pretty sure you’ll feel a little better too.