Online Dating

I have decided that I am opening myself up to being romantically involved with someone again.  Fortunately, I am a person that is extremely happy whether I am in a relationship or not.  I know that this is not the case for everyone and to me that is a shame.  Feeling whole and fulfilled no matter what your relationship status is should be a top priority for everyone. Because I have the best family and friends ever, and because I thoroughly enjoy being in my own company, this is a truth for me, and I am grateful.

I've decided to use an online dating site.  I think online dating is one of the absolute best things that has ever happened to the world.  I can't think of anything better than smorgasboarding my way thru a bunch of men's photos and reading their witty little "about me" sections.  I'm shopping for wieners.  It's a beautiful thing. 
 
The downside to online dating is spending a butt load of my time filling out sections about myself...what I'm all about and what I'm looking for, just to get bombarded with messages from men that don't even come close to matching the specifications I have ever so carefully laid out there for all to see.  I have a pretty easy set of parameters...tall, Caucasian, older, don't have children, don't want children, loves animals and music, is spiritual, basically healthy, and local. It is a fact that most people don't even read your profile.  They just look at your picture and send you a wink or a hello.  The process does test your patience and kindness because if you are like me, you respond to all the messages you get and let them know that they are not a match for you because of one thing or another...and let me tell you it can be challenging to not be like "what the fuck is your deal man?" when some shirtless, half naked, hat on backwards, punk ass looking mother fucker sends you a run on sentence riddled with spelling errors and no punctuation.  

 

Anyway...I had a dream last night that I was meeting my new boyfriend's parents and we were up north somewhere and it was snowing outside and the cats were with me and they were excited and I was excited and everyone was happy and it was a really nice dream.  I'm ready to make that a reality, except the cats won't be traveling with me.  Unfortunately.

Flies...AGAIN.

The flies are back...again.  

Back in February I posted about something dying in my chimney and flies showing up in my house weeks later.  I couldn't smell anything so I had no idea what horror was lurking around the corner for me...

Well, the same thing has happened again, and the worst part is that I HAVE been able to smell the poor little critter this time and I've had to deal with the stench of death in my living room for the past 3, almost 4 weeks.  Every time I sit on the couch, which is of course in front of the fireplace, vapors of rotting flesh creep up my nose, and I swear to you it has texture!  It's like an invisible cloud of disease is surrounding me.  I feel like I'm infected with Dysentery just for stepping foot into my house.

I started seeing them last night, just a few, and this time around the flies are bigger, I swear they are, and they're even more disgusting and wretched because I'm keenly aware of the horrible fact that they are nothing more than maggots with wings.  They are so icky the cats won't go near them.  They won't even chase them.  I've seen a couple of dead ones here and there and am convinced that Daisy looked at me after noticing them and said "Jesus Christ Mom, clean these fucking flies up, would you?"

A side effect of the Dysentery is quite frequently throughout the day, I encounter the random aroma of the essence of the dearly departed.  I don't know if it's on my clothes or if it's in my head or even worse if it's my Payless shoes.  I think I'm gonna have to chalk it up to the power of suggestion, for hygienic and sanity reasons.

So I can't wait to get home and see just how many of the little bastards actually completed the journey from fiber glass filled chimney into Casa de Brown. 

Oh, and of course there's this:  take away the selfish aspect of the entire situation and there lies the simple fact that some sweet, innocent creature accidentally fell into the chimney and undoubtedly suffered tremendously by starving to death.  For this my heart aches.

Obviously I cannot go thru this experience again, so Heidi's son is going to come over and get on the roof and cover the chimney hole in the next week or two.  Oh how I wish I would have done it sooner. 

Nothing in Particular.

Jesus!  I haven't posted anything since June.  That's tragic!  It's a challenge for me to get in here every week or clearly even every month and spew out the crap I spew out.  I need to make a better effort to write more often because I really do enjoy it.

What I enjoy more is drinking, which I have been partaking in quite a bit as of late.  Last Friday night I went downtown after a work event with some of the UCF students that were helping us out and I drank way too much.  I mean waaaaaaaaaay too much.  Free booze always puts a hurtin on me.  I was drinking Seven and Seven, which seems to be my cocktail of choice nowadays - I had to get off the vodka - with shots of tequila and fireball whiskey tangled up in there.  It was all I could do to muster up the interest in hanging out with a bunch of 23 year olds in the real world.  They were super sweet and we ended up having a pretty fun time, but I had to be careful not to expose them to what a lifetime of partying with no "breaks" can do to someone's tolerance.  I don't encourage anyone to drink consistently for 22 years straight, like I have.  It's expensive and calorie laden and it ages you.  Plus, once you reach a certain point you just black out, even though you are fully functioning on a social level, and that's just all together bad news. 

 
I have seen and done some serious shit in my life...I've peed in my bed, I've hit on old men, I've driven with one hand over my eye, I have pissed in every public place you can imagine (including in a cup in my car while stuck in traffic on I-4), I've been busted having sex in vehicles and bathrooms, I've stolen street signs...but I have never, ever passed out on the street.  GO ME.

Happy Friday!

Hot Neighbor

This past Tuesday night, I was outside in my front yard with my babies when my super hot future boyfriend neighbor came around the corner walking his dog.  I've talked to him a few times over the past month or so.  He is really nice and loves music, especially Pearl Jam, he's my age, taller than me, loves animals, is close with his parents...all really good stuff.

Anyway, to ward off the insects, I've got a fan in my hand since nowadays mosquitoes travel in packs and are the size of newborns.  They absolutely love me because I overindulge in wearing all things that smell good.  And of course it helps keep me a little cooler since it's 3,000 degrees outside.

Well we're shootin the shit for about 20 minutes.  I'm fanning myself and him and his dog and everyone else walking by, who, by the way, I seem to know because I am constantly out on my front steps with the cats.  After we're done talking, I go in the house and all I'm thinking to myself is please God don't let me have anything weird on my face or in my teeth.  Let me just tell you that this cat has never seen me look decent.  I've only ever seen him outside, after work, with crappy clothes on, no make up, hair a total mess...you get the picture.  So I go look in the mirror to inspect my face and it looks okay, nothing funny going on.  I'm like WOO HOO! Awesome!  But the joy is short lived, because as I look down at my dark green shirt I see them...

Huge ass sweat circles under my boobs.  There is no way they went unnoticed.  No way.  They were fucking terrible.  I was like OH MY GOD YOU HAVE TO BE KIDDING ME!  WTF?  I had to laugh because, well, what else are you gonna do, ya know!?!  We had just talked about how fricking hot it was so how could he have been that grossed out about it, right?  

We shall see.  If he starts taking a different route to walk his dog and I never see him again, we will know he's not into sweaty women that smell like patchouli.  All I know is this - when I go thru menopause I'm moving to Alaska.

Swamp Ass

Well, it's here.  Swamp Ass season.  Anyone who knows me or, let's face it, has been within earshot of me at any time during the summer, knows I suffer from a debilitating condition called Swamp Ass.  What is Swamp Ass you ask?  It's when the bottom half of your body won't stop sweating.  Your butt crack and the inside of your thighs basically turn into a slip 'n slide.  A constant flow of sweat is present.  There's no point in wearing underwear because within about 5 minutes of being outside they are soaked, and all girls know what that can lead to.

I've tried everything just shy of never leaving my house.  I'm not kidding.  The really sad part is I have to go thru this bullshit every day.  I shower, I'm clean, I go outside to get into my car, I immediately start sweating, I turn the A/C on, I cool down, I get to my destination, I get out the car, I start sweating again, then I get inside and start the cool down process once more, all with drenched panties and pit stains. God help me if we are trying to sit outside somewhere!  I'm breaking out a fan, icing my hands down, chugging water (or booze) and incessantly wiping my face off with a handkerchief.  My sweat glands are in total overdrive.  I've put deodorant in places no stick of Secret should ever venture to.  I've used so much baby powder my vagina has been hidden under a layer of paste.
   

Of course the reason for this nonsense is because the heat and humidity in this state are like layers of texture.  You can feel them.  It's like there are millions of hair dryers on high dangling from the trees above.  Clouds of heat.  Magic legs.

And what's even more awful is I'm one of those women who sweats like a man.  I sweat in between and underneath my boobs, down my back, along my mustache, everywhere.  How fucking awesome is that?  Can you imagine?  Hi, I'm Karen.  I like animals, music, beer and the beach.  I'm really mellow and I love my life.  I sweat profusely in any place on my body with a crease or any place where skin touches skin.  We should get a drink sometime.  

One of my friends used to have a car with an air vent that was underneath the steering wheel, just at hoo level.  You know a woman designed that model.  I think all cars need one.  Next time you see a girl with her foot on the dash, she's improvising. 

I Know What Victoria's Secret Is.

Her secret is she needs glasses.  Her merchandise is getting smaller and smaller by the minute.  Clearly she can't see that her slave laborers are cheating her out of millions by using way less fabric than in the past.

Earlier in one of my posts, I mentioned that I am a fan of large cotton underwear.  I still am, but recently I decided that I would treat myself to some sexier, prettier panties.  Not for any particular reason, just that I figured it was time to cut the chord to my Hanes.  I suppose the fact that some of my friends relentlessly tease me about my obsession with high waisted briefs didn't hinder my decision.

So, yesterday after work I went to Victoria's Secret.  This is when I noticed she was in dyer need of spectacles.  Strewn all over the walls and tables were bras and panties that were half the size they used to be when I shopped there years ago.  All I could think to myself was poor Victoria!  She really should find a decent Opthalmologist.

Feeling filled with angst over poor Vickie and her terrible eyesight, I ran out of there as fast as I could, refusing to support a company that was so clearly taking total advantage of a poor, elderly woman's declining eyesight.  It was such a heartbreaking situation, I immediately headed to Olive Garden and got an order of fettuccine alfredo to go, just to calm myself down a bit.  Oh wait, first I stopped at Piercing Pagoda and bought a cute pair of earrings.  Oh, and I also smelled some perfume at the Clinique counter.  Anyway, I was extremely distraught.

Okay, obviously I didn't really run out of Victoria's Secret.  I just came to terms with the fact that I'm getting older and I don't wear a medium panty anymore and I prefer full coverage bras now, which is more than fine with me.

I did get some really cute stuff though.  Next time I make out with a random boy in a bathroom I should shine in the intimate apparel department.

Unfortunately, I ate the pasta like I hadn't eaten in a week, which I probably shouldn't do again if I want to continue to buy anything from VS.  It gave me heartburn.  Olive Garden is like drinking too much - it's all good going down, but most of the time the aftermath just ain't worth it.

THAT'S IT. I'M DONE.

I am done trying to be something I'm not and constantly feeling disappointed in myself.  I can't take it anymore.  I feel like such a failure.

I'm a spiritual person.  I talk the talk, I walk the walk, I read the books, I don't eat meat, I journal (not as much as I should but what the fuck man, sometimes I just don't feel like it).  I think how I'm supposed to think and I behave how I'm supposed to behave (for the most part, let's not get carried away here), but there are a few ideas that come along with this whole "hippy-free spirit-alternative" lifestyle that I just can't seem to get into and I am sick and tired of feeling like a complete douchebag because of it.

I DO NOT WANT TO MEDITATE AND

I DO NOT WANT TO TAKE YOGA CLASSES.

There, I said it.  I have spent so many years buying books and DVD's on meditation and yoga - I even have an entire room dedicated to meditating with pillows, candles, statues...all kinds of shit - and I barely touch them. They were a complete and total waste of my money and to be honest with you, every time I look at them I say to myself "got damn Karen, you need to read that or when are you going to watch that DVD asshole?" and it makes me feel bad.  Like really bad.  And as far as yoga goes?  I suck so bad I just paid for a year's worth of classes and only went for 3 months.  I KNOW!  WTF? For some reason I feel chained to the idea that I have to partake in and be totally perfect at all these spiritual practices or I might not be the divine, wonderful, whole person I am and have been the entire time.  What a lousy crock of shit!  

So no more, man.  No more.  From now on I will be totally comfortable with my process of learning and development.  I will let go of the idea of perfection and be at peace with the choices I make regarding my spiritual growth and enlightenment.  I am totally comfortable with how I live my life.  

WHEW!  Wow, I feel like such a burden has been lifted from my shoulders. That took way too damn long to come to terms with, and all I have to say about it is AMEN and HOLLA.

That's Not Really Comforting...At All

So, my girlfriend and I were talking about breakups the other night and we decided to make a list of all the comforting things that people say to you 5 minutes after your relationship ends that really aren't comforting at all.  5 minutes is just too soon.  How about you wait 10 minutes before you point out the things that sometimes can only be understood when you are out of the situation for a while, if they are even understood at all.  Here are some of our favorites.

Well that didn't take very long.  Didn't take very long for what exactly? One of us to figure out that the other one is a douche?  Who's the douche? Me or him?  This feels like an insult.  Consider the source and then you can figure out who the dickhead is.

Don't worry, there are plenty of fish in the sea.  So not what people are thinking about right after a break up.  If there are fish for you, there are fish for them, and no one wants to imagine their ex with someone else, not at first anyway...unless they're getting deflowered in jail. 

It's about time.  We all knew that was coming.  Hey, how about letting a bitch know the next time your crystal ball tells you their relationship isn't ending in a timely enough manner. Oh, and thanks for anticipating the demise of my relationSHIT. 

At least you found love.  Some people never do.  Who in the hell has never, ever found love? Convicts on death row have their pen pals falling in love with them all the time.  It's undoubtedly a warped form of love but whatever, love it is.  If you can't find someone to fall in love with you and vice versa, perhaps you need a lobotomy and a shower. 

I guess it just wasn't meant to be.  Really?  No shit. 

You guys weren't a good fit anyway.  Okay, well that's nice.  I already have a sneaking suspicion that I lack the ability to sense whether or not someone is an asshole when I first meet them.  You just reinforced that feeling.  This will definitely do me good, especially when I get back out into the dating world. No fear or trepidation here.

At least you found out it wasn't going to work sooner rather than later.  I guess it's easy to assume that when someone is in your life for a short amount of time, it will hurt less when they are no longer there.  I wholeheartedly disagree.  I once loved a man I only saw once.  When my time with him ended, my heart was broken, and the pain I felt was deafening. Sooner rather than later didn't make it any easier for me.  I must say vodka did tho. 

And last but not least...

One Upping.  You know that whole "oh, that's nothing - my husband left me for another man" sort of shit people say whenever you explain your situation to them.  They try and make you feel better by comparing their drama to your drama.  It's one thing to say "wow, I totally understand what you are going thru" but it is quite another to demean the extent of my emotional damage by overshadowing it with yours.  Shut your pie hole and just listen why don't ya. 

Now, again, these little snippits of wisdom are fine and dandy once an appropriate amount of time has passed.  Also, be careful that the romance is actually over and that it's not just a momentary lapse of reason, or in most cases, a small window of clarity.

Knockin' on Heaven's Door

Aging.  It ain't for wussies.

There are a few things I would like to address that I strongly feel should be removed from the aging process entirely.

Chicken neck.  WTF?  Really?  In my opinion, this is a major fail in the evolution process.   I do not appreciate turning 40 and noticing my neck is starting to resemble a testicle.  Why not the back of the thigh?  At least you can hide that.  Also, do men even get this?  Or is it just one of the many injustices faced by women that men are fortunate enough to be completely exempt from?  I do believe this is my least favorite thing about getting older.

Skintags.  These are just nasty.  I would really like a medical explanation for this unsightly phenomenon.  Also, I've noticed they seemingly appear over night and in the most inopportune places, like armpits or the lower back area, or in my case, the dead ass center of my neck.  Sorry, I mean my chicken neck.  There is actually a product you can buy called "Tag Away" that will supposedly remove skintags. I find nail clippers work just fine and they are free.

Liver spots.  Also known as sun spots.  Now, I can see how the sun is a major culprit here, but the liver?  What in the hell does your liver have to do with brown spots on your skin? If my liver had anything to do with this process, my spots would be more like blisters and filled with vodka.

Sleeplessness.  "Older people don't need as much sleep" -  I find that in my case, the total opposite is true here.  I feel as though I could sleep more now than ever, but usually my body starts aching if I lay in bed for too long, especially my lower back.  This is just shitty.  Dear God, I'm sorry for all the times when I was little that I didn't want to take a nap.  If I could just have those hours of sleep back now, I would really appreciate it.  Thank you. 

Rogue hairs.  Okay, seriously, this is nothing but a disgrace to woman everywhere.  While they are usually ridiculously long and most of the time black, again, the location, not okay.  90% of the time they are on our chins and jawline!!  That's just wrong on so many levels.  Add to this that we are going blind and can't even see the hairs and it's just down right insulting.  I don't even know what else to say about this.  

Wrinkles.  Last and least for me is wrinkles.  I am a very animated person and I maintain exaggerated facial expressions all day long, so it's no surprise to me that my face resembles a Shar-pei's.  I would be a liar if I said I didn't think about them from time to time, but, given my personality and how much I love making people laugh, to me they are a small price to pay for bringing a bit of joy into the world.

House of Flies

Some people fight crime, some people fight fires, some people fight for animal rights and human rights...I fight flies.  I do fight for animal rights too though.

A while back my BFF Heidi and I were sitting on my couch when we noticed there were some strange little rat turd looking things in front of my fireplace.  We picked them up and did a full scale examination on them, breaking one open and conducting a seemingly endless search on Google images, before coming to the conclusion that they were fly pupae.  Fly pupae.  I had no idea how they got there so I just chucked them in the trash and went on with my fabulous life.  I should let you know right now that my fireplace is non-functional.  It's been closed off with some fiberglass looking shit and a piece of board.  It is for decoration purposes only.

Well, fast forward 3 weeks to this past weekend.  I walk into my house on Thursday and what do I see?  An abundance of flies all over the place.  There were at least 10 on my curtains.  They were in the windows.  I saw a couple on my furniture.  Oh my God it was so disgusting.  Because I haven't seen a fly swatter since like 1990, I ran around killing them with a magazine.  Fly carcasses everywhere.  I felt like my house was infected, like it was a holding cell for nasty dirty fly diseases...Encephalitis, Salmonella, HIV, whatever else the little fuckers carry around.

Okay, I am well aware that flies are not transmitters of the aforementioned diseases, but when you come home and find a village of them in your house, you start to feel as though the plague is knocking on your door.  

Yeah, so, the next night - SAME THING.  Fly killing mad woman on the loose.  I finally had to call my bug guy and he came over and sprayed the hell out of the fireplace area.  He told me that something must have died way up high in there because there was no smell of death in the house. I was so incredibly grateful for this.  The no smell part that is.  Apparently, the poor little animal that had passed away in my chimney was almost gone.  It was no longer droppin pupae, it was droppin full on flies!

So for the rest of the weekend I had to deal with a few more of the little buzzers here and there, but then that was that and they were gone.  

Now, because I believe that something positive comes from all experiences, there was a silver lining, even to this little fiasco.  Obviously I had to do a serious vacuum job to eliminate all the dead fly bodies, and after that was done, I totally rearranged my living room furniture and I absolutely love it.  LOVE IT.  I wish I would have done it years ago but hey, regret is a useless emotion.  I am so very thankful for my happy, fly free, newly decorated home. 

Love, Peace, and Frying Pan Grease

I don't do new years resolutions as I am always finding lovely ways to incorporate what I believe are the key elements to a happy and peaceful existence into my life.  My true, authentic self is forever a work in progress because I feel that if you stop growing and learning you might as well stop living, and that personal growth should be a high priority for everyone. I take my spirituality very seriously.  I think before I speak and I don't talk shit.

Kindness, altruism, patience, forgiveness...basic stuff.  The one thing I'm having a little bit of a hard time with is empathy (not to be confused with sympathy).  Putting yourself in someone else's shoes, understanding why it is they are feeling what they're feeling and acting the way they're acting, and possibly relating to their turmoil because you would feel and act in the same manner.

I know of a few people who behave badly by choice.  They know better but they seemingly don't care about how their words and actions affect others. They are genuinely hurtful and mean-spirited, bitter and angry, and they will lie to your face without even flinching.  Total cocksuckers.  They behave in ways I cannot understand and quite frankly would never even want to understand.  There will be no exchanging shoes with them.

Most spiritual practices teach that forgiveness is the way to peace, and I believe this.  Buddhism teaches you to send "love and light" to those you have a negative association with, meaning you have a willingness to see all things with compassionate and all-accepting eyes.  That shit is tough to do.

So, my question is, how am I supposed to feel empathy (or sympathy for that matter) for people who consciously choose to conduct their lives in a way that I find despicable?  And that most of society as a whole finds to be despicable also?  And how am I supposed to send them love and light when all I want to do is pour grease on them and set them on fire?  Clearly this goes beyond your general run of the mill act of forgiveness.  This one will require some heavy soul searching.

I know that shitty childhoods can create shitty adults, but I have some friends that have had it really tough and they are kind, decent, and wonderful people.  They do not let their horrific past define who they are in their present life.  

Since my exposure to these assholes has been ramped up a bit lately, I feel that this should be my latest spiritual project.  Love and light.  It may be the hardest one I've undertaken so far but I feel as though I am up to the task.  The past 5 months in my wonderful world have been so triumphant and life changing, I am ready to conquer anything.  

GOT DAMN FLU!!

I am just now feeling a little better after having the flu for the past 4 days, and let me tell you, that shit knocked my dick in the dirt. I felt like I had fallen out of the world's tallest tree, hitting every branch on the way down, then landed in a bucket of tar, all while someone was holding a blow torch to my throat. No kind, decent person should be subjected to that sort of misery, ever. I contemplated going to the emergency room at 3:00 in the morning on Friday as I lay in bed sobbing over how much pain I was in...and I had taken a pain pill too. I knew I should have mixed it with alcohol. Maybe those toothless, hillbilly bastards were right. Instead I went to my doctor and started taking an antibiotic, and now I feel semi-human again. Thank God for mold.




So now it's Saturday night, and I'm at home drinking orange juice with a Chloraseptic floater, and chasing it with a Cepacol throat lozenge, when I should be out with my besties Carol and Leslie celebrating Leslie's 40th birthday. Sorry girls, I'm there in spirit.

It's one thing to stay at home on a Saturday night by choice, but quite another when you're forced to due to illness. Humbug I say. The world is dirty and people need to wash their fucking hands more, clearly myself included.

On the bright side, since I always try and find the bright side, today I ate a cheese sandwich on white bread for lunch and the same thing for dinner, followed by a bowl of cherry nut ice cream...to soothe my sore throat of course. When you don't feel well you don't want to eat, so anything you can get down is beneficial to your heath. I love you cheese sandwich.

I Should Have Taken Home Ec

But only for the cooking aspect of it...I got the rest of that shit down pat.  Well except for the raising a family part.  I don't have kids.  Praise beer!

Yeah, I cannot cook for shit.  I mean for shit.  If there was a "Totally Useless in the Kitchen" award given out every year, I would be the winner, hands down.  I don't know what it is either.  It's like a total mental block.  I know I don't follow recipes very well, and I don't really know anything about seasonings or herbs.  I suppose not knowing the difference between roasting and broiling and baking doesn't help either.  Not wanting to do the dishes every night is a huge contributor, I'm sure.  Okay, well fuck it, I guess I do know why I don't cook much.

I want to learn though because I'm entertaining the idea of falling in love again, and the ability to make a decent meal just seems like something a 40 year old woman ought to be able to do. While I do have an extensive list of redeeming qualities and abilities - arm wrestling, vodka aficionado, totally shameless, wretched sense of humor, professional shot taker, slutty dancing, and an unhealthy obsession with true crime stories - a normal thing like not giving your mate food poisoning should rank high on the list too.

By the way, I'm looking for a very tall, handsome, happy, friendly, calm, honest, smart, funny, compassionate, spiritual, humble, and confident man who loves animals, nature, staying healthy, classic rock, horror movies, and has a good relationship with his family.  This will be quite the departure from my last experience, but armed with even more knowledge and understanding of who I am and what I am about, I shall not make that mistake again.  Fuck no, not today, thank you kindly.  That's a Johnny Depp quote from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.

Speaking of Johnny Depp, I met a guy the other day who didn't like him.  He didn't like Johnny Depp.  How is that even possible?  I'm not asking you to hump the guy, I'm just asking you to appreciate his talent.  Sheesh.