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The Continuing Adventures of Karma’s OnLine Dating: Entry 74
Oct 1st, 2017 by Dr Karma

Lately, I’ve been missing Jareth a lot, but the boy won’t let me get another kitten.

No one can see me–I’m in mommy’s fur!

Nor will he let me get a porcupine so I can talk with it while feeding it corn.

And he’s adamant that we not bring an owl named Weird Owl Yankovic into our home, even after Jenny Lawson came up with that name.

However, this month, my desire for a kitten has been decreasing. I’ve found myself a man.

A great one.

One who makes me feel sexy.

One who can keep up with me, intellectually.

One who plays the piano for me and recites poetry while we snuggle.

One who gets my job and my schedule since he’s a teacher too.

One who just brought me tea and is literally making and packing me a lunch while I write this now.

 

Don’t worry, readers–I haven’t told you every story from my dating adventures–there are more blogs yet to come.

 

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Review of “Let’s Pretend This Never Happened”
May 10th, 2012 by Dr Karma

Jenny Lawson, the author of Let’s Pretend This Never Happened, is a saint.

Okay, not really. I mean, not literally. Mostly because she’s not Catholic and not dead and doesn’t have the required number of confirmed miracles (again, because she’s not dead).

But if someone had to be my intercessor with the almighty, I would want it to be her.

I can imagine her argument in my favor now.

Him: There’s no way she’s getting in here. She’s violated too many of my rules.

Jenny: Like what?

Him: Well, she had a child out of wedlock.

Jenny: Technically, so did you, unless the Bible is leaving out a whole wedding scene. And sure, Alexander may not be a zombie whose worshippers commit cannibalism, but he did give her a kiss on the forehead the other night — unprompted! — for making meatloaf. He’s a teenage boy–they’re not supposed to be nice to their mothers! And did I mention that he builds his own instruments? I mean, have you seen his all-metal viola? She can’t be all that bad.

Why am I so convinced that this is how the discussion would go? Well, I’ve been reading Lawson’s work for a while now, so I’m used to her having conversations like this actual one with her husband when she bought a taxidermied baby alligator:

Victor: “Didn’t you once tell me that more than one dead animal in the house borders on serial-killer territory?

“‘Yes, but this one is wearing a hat,’ I explained drily. He couldn’t argue with that kind of logic. No one could.”

My friend Vanessa first introduced me to Ms. Lawson’s blog (www.thebloggess.com) via an entry in which Lawson gets back at her husband for forbidding her to buy more towels. It’s a wonderful lesson: http://thebloggess.com/2011/06/and-thats-why-you-should-learn-to-pick-your-battles/

I became a fan of Beyonce  the chicken and Jenny Lawson all at once. Don’t understand that sentence? Go back and read the blog I linked to!

How awesome is Lawson? Well, have you ever gotten Wil Wheaton to take a picture of himself collating paper to send to people who send you stupid requests? Have you, when trying and failing to get Nathan Fillion’s attention, ever had Simon Pegg comfort you with a twit pic of himself holding string? I bet not. But Lawson has:

Lawson’s blog is wonderful. Her book is similarly amazing. I usually don’t laugh out loud when I read, but I laughed. Out. Loud. Several times.

How could I not when she recounts a discussion with her OBGYN about how she would tear and need to be stitched up? Lawson asked if the scar could be in the shape of a lightening-bolt (a la Harry Potter) so that “whenever I have menstrual cramps I could just pretend that Voldemort was close.”

Even though I just finished the book, I already want to read it again. It has been a source of joy, of recognition (she’s not the only one to attend Armadillo rodeos), and a reward for getting my grading quota done each day. It is also “intellectually challenging and chronologically surreal. Like if Memento was a book. About dead dogs and vaginas and puppets made of squirrel corpses.”

She gave me that quote to use in my review. It’s in the book, so I didn’t even have to bother her to get it.

I’m telling you–the woman is a fucking saint.

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