Details, details

My name is Kara. People also refer to me as Glamazon. I am awesome. I’m a bundle of contradictions. I’ve lived a lot of places and I’ve done a lot of things. I regret nothing.

Awesomeness is action...

I play a lot of beach volleyball, and I don’t suck. I heart it. A lot. It helps that I’m a Glamazon, or, rather, an Amazon. But I feel being a Glamazon brings a little extra flair to the beach. In case the bottles of beer, small swimsuits, and sweaty-rad action on the courts weren’t enough for you.

Go! Go, Gadget Arms!

What else? I ridicule incompetency, else people will never learn. I can rationalize anything, meaning I’m rarely wrong. And I possess the unflappable confidence that facilitates my indefatigable optimism. Oh, and I’m not quiet. Nor am I shy. A Glamazon never is.

Tall girls on the farm...

Glamazons tend to travel in packs. Apparently, that’s intimidating. And this is good for us, because it cuts down on the short guys who accost us somewhat regularly. Yes, a height rule exists. And that rule is concrete.

Note: People say I intimidate them because I’m a tall, confident, smart, loud woman. I say you need to dust your balls off and realize that if you’re looking for a demure, mute Victorian, you’re about a century-and-a-half too late. I don’t intimidate anyone; if you are intimidated by me, that’s your own issue. And Judgy-wudgy was a bear.  

We Glamazons are everywhere. And we will step on you if you tell us we're tall.

There are few things more irritating than people telling me I’m tall. One is comma splices, but that’s a whole other issue. Don’t do it. It will get you nowhere except a place in my head where I will mentally brand you with Captain Obvious tattoo on your forehead.  

Anything else? Well, of course. There’s plenty. So much that a small page just won’t cut it. So I’ll just leave you wondering. 

Besos.