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.