Saturday, December 30, 2006


When I arrived at my parents place Christmas Eve, I was informed that numerous family members currently or recently had a stomach bug that caused either vomiting, diarrhea, or both.


Because I'm not exposed to children that often, I always know that going home for any occasion usually brings with it the high expectation that I will at some point get sick. It's almost expected. Two years ago I came down with a stomach bug the night before Thanksgiving. Yes, the night before. It was horrible. I heaved or hoed every hour on the hour starting at 1am. It was probably my worst Thanksgiving ever.

Of those arriving around the same time I arrived, my aunt was the first to come down with the lovely stomach bug. She got it the day after Christmas. I made it all the way until the 27th before being afflicted. Luckily, I was able to get a little rest before my regular trips to the bathroom began.

I almost vomited once or twice, but it all ended up going out the other end. Day one, I wasn't hungry at all. Day two, I thought I was feeling a little better and decided to have some soup for dinner.

Bad move.

Between 4am and 7am, I made 9 round trips to the throne and back. If the bathroom were awarding frequent flyer miles, I'd have a couple free vouchers.

Day three was filled with limited eating and the beginnings of a cold, but after reading a little on the internet, it looked like Gatorade was one of my better options. Thus, I began my regular ingestion of the yummy strawberry Gatorade. This was probably better than a certain family member's OD on Imodium AD that led to a ER visit after their system became stopped up and bloated.

I was supposed to fly home that night, but due to the crazy weather in Oz, my flight was cancelled. Thus, day four of my sickness came with a newly arrived family member coming down with the latest round of total fun-ness. By the time I left this afternoon, she was already feeling much better than the AM hours. I, still, was barely hungry, and only managed a small bowl of cereal for breakfast and two muffins for lunch. Oh, and a few bottles of Gatorade.

My sister and her husband left the day I was supposed to have left, but my parents talked them into letting their grandson (my nephew) stay with them the New Year's weekend. Somehow he dug out a jump-rope, which my parents tried to show him how to work. OK, most almost-4-year-olds are just not going to have the coordination to jump over a swinging rope. I had them change to just swinging it back and forth instead of over his head, but he was still having trouble getting the timing right. I tried to show him, but the possessiveness that kicks in at that age caused him to have a little fit over it being his. He started swinging the jump rope, and almost nailed my mom. My parents spoil him to death, so, I was the first to take the rope away and tell him not to hit his Nana. He started crying, but, as I told my parents, I didn't mind being the 'evil' one. He screamed for a while, but settle down shortly before I left. I said my good-byes to my parents, my nephew, and my sprawled-out cousin crashed on the family room couch. (Everyone else was about to eat at another family dinner.)

After the customary hug, my mom requested her usual second hug. My little nephew was still slightly mad at me, and only gave me a slight hug around the waist.

I started up the car, carefully exited the driveway, the waved good-bye as I drove away. My cellphone rang after I had just turned the corner. It was my little nephew.

"I love you very, very much, Kara."

My heart melted.

"I love you, too," I said, barely holding back the tears. My mom came on the line and said he really wanted to call and tell me that before I left since he was afraid I'd never come back.

Talk about a cry-fest. Wow. Is this what parents live for? I mean, let's face it, almost all kids are brats at some point or another. I've always wondered what was so powerful that led a lot of people to have more than one, and also never regret having the children they have...even with as much as some of them can whine about things.

Love. Amazing stuff.

Which reminds me, the 5 year sperm bank storage time I paid for is due up soon. I guess I better look at extending it...just in case.

Monday, December 18, 2006


While watching the local morning news, they ran a story about an international runner being stripped of her silver medal in the 800m run at the Asian Games.

In the picture in that link, you'll notice that she does has a brow ridge and a slight Adam's Apple. (Here's another picture after the race of note.) From reading the article, though, it sounds like she does not have male genetalia nor has she had a sex change...but simply that she has chromosomal abnormalities. One of the most ridiculous lines in that article is "The official also said the test revealed more Y chromosomes than allowed." I wonder how many they do allow? I mean, come on, men only have one Y chromosome. Genetic women have zero.

Is she XXY or some variant of? Or could she be XY? Who knows but those that performed the genetic testing.

I wonder how many genetic women out there do not have the standard XX pair of chromosomes. Is that what defines us as male or female?

It's too bad that she is likely being stripped of her medal. This isn't the Olympic games, but I wonder what type of ruling the IOC would have made since they do allow transsexuals to compete. This is, in fact, the Asian Games, so it appears the ruling is not so beneficial.

Monday, December 04, 2006

Stage 4 Cooties

I have Stage 4 Cooties...and have for the past several years. There is no known cure. My only hope is finding someone with the Cootie antibody.

I went on a date two weeks ago...

...with a guy...

...who is 24.

I haven't been out with a guy in quite a while, let alone one that is 12 years younger than me. I wanted to wait a while before writing about it just to see what happened after it, and well, I figure 2 weeks is enough.

He IM'd me on a late Friday afternoon. We chatted for a while and he seemed like a pretty nice guy. He sent his picture, and after an inquiry into whether or not we would meet over dinner, I said sure.

I picked a little Asian fusion place, and was a few minutes late due to finding parking and getting my hair in some type of decent shape. I seem to be late to everything nowadays...perhaps from spending way too much time in my previous 30-some years always waiting on other people while I was the one on time.

As we sat there chatting and eating a very tasty meal, I told him that many of my friends would be jealous to be sitting where I was sitting. He was 5'11", clean cut, fairly attractive, and in decent shape.

He knew I was TS from the beginning. He ran across my Yahoo page and IM'd me from it. Many of my TS friends wouldn't even go out with someone that knew they were TS to begin with...they want the guy (or girl) to get to know them first before letting them in on the big secret. But a lot of my TS friends want someone who is tall...taller than them, or at least close. I can see why, in some cases...because the taller he is the more feminine one can feel.

After we ate, he asked if I was interested in hanging out a little more...or going somewhere to dance or something. Because I don't drink, he thought a bar wouldn't be that great. He suggested Diva's.

Hmm...I really didn't feel like going there. Diva's has basically become a place where "John's" go to pick up a T prostitute. It's not always like that, but it has that distinct flavor to it. I've been a number of times, but the creep factor can turn many people off. Sure, there are plenty of nice guys there and one can have an enjoyable time there...but...ehhh...I really didn't want to go there.

I guess I just felt like he wanted to go there because he wouldn't have to worry about taking me somewhere where we might run into someone he knew who would see him out with a T. So, thus, we both called it a night.

I do OK, but I'm not as feminine looking as I wish I was. I don't have the small curvy body. I'm solid, I know this. I have a love hate relationship with all of it...being that I like athletics but also have anxiety over not looking entirely feminine. It sucks. It enhances my Stage 4 Cooties. I don't want to be with someone who is afraid of taking me everywhere in the world.

And, thus, finding someone with the Cootie antibody is difficult.

Besides there being a 12 year gap with the guy I went out with, there were a few other things that likely would have made a relationship difficult.

Oh, Kara, just have sex with him for fun.

Yeah, yeah, I probably could...but ya know what? Vaginal sex just isn't that great for me. Besides my 4.5" of vaginal depth (sigh...yes...very disappointing), most of my sensation is either in the clit or mons area, or in the vaginal opening...and not within the vagina itself. Frankly, I'd rather get myself off than simply doink some guy for the fun of it. I'm more about getting to know someone or really bonding with someone before I have sex with them. Sure, there are some people I could bond with very fast and be in the sack in no time, but usually I have to see at least a possibility of a relationship growing out of it...

...and, of course, I have to do a Stage 4 Cootie antibody check first.