That Bitch, Karen

Last night I was enjoying one of my favorite pass times – reading memes. OK, I’m not exactly proud that this is on my top 10 list of Things I Do When I’m Bored. But, come on, the internet can be a hilarious place. And as I mentioned in my most previous post, I have really been having fun with Coronavirus memes.

I love that memes have kind of become a way of story telling.

My favorite story, is that of That Bitch, Karen.

Karen is probably a single mom. She has either an inverted bob or layered crop of some sort. Her natural hair color has been long gone for at least seven years. It’s now a mixture of blondes and browns, and sometimes, reds.

She rarely wears sweat pants, at least not in public. She prefers leggings, jeggings, and slacks, but only from Chicos. She cares deeply about being seen without her “bling.” She has charm bracelets made for layering in every color and style imaginable. Her neck ware is usually something bulky and silver. Her sunglasses, always rhinestoned. However, she doesn’t wear rings often, because they remind her of divorce and get in the way when she cuts coupons.

Karen makes her living off alimony and Essential Oils. She’s dabbled in scented candles and adhesive nail art, but her passion lies with the lavender healing power. Her big bucks earned in Direct Sales make it possible for her four children to play soccer and take dance lessons. You can usually catch her at a Saturday game holding a personalized Starbucks tumbler and making oil recommendations for a better nights sleep. Karen assumes she is the envy of all the moms at the game, but each one is secretly praying her kid gets mildly injured on the field so the conversation can end.

Karen grocery shops at Target because Walmart is beneath her and there’s no Trader Joe’s close to her home. She buys organic and gluten-free everything. Neither she nor any of her children have a gluten sensitivity, but the extra cost is worth it just in case any of her snowflakes ever get bitten by a radioactive spider and develop allergies.

When Karen buys groceries, only the freshest of the fresh is acceptable. Taking from the very back of the shelf is the only way to make absolute sure of that product’s ability to last until dinner time. In case Karen STILL isn’t sure though, she can always ask for a manager.

Karen needs to speak to managers quite frequently. Any public establishment that offers products or services will receive a complete list of everything they’re doing wrong, courtesy of this one woman’s experience. It will always be an unsatisfied experience for Karen. The employee is always wrong and Karen deserves something for free as thanks for pointing that out.

As Karen makes it clear to Mr. or Ms. Manager that she expects so much more as a paying customer, her four kids run rampant. At least one will be near tears, because they’re tired and hungry. The other three are opening products not yet paid for or trying to loot Tic-Tacs and Kinder Eggs from the checkout. Karen will always ignore the impatient sighs of other patrons. It’s not her fault that Mr. Manager of 15 years doesn’t know store policies as well as she. If a bystander tries to get involved, it can be expected that Karen will speak louder and probably ask for a corporate phone number.

Karen is also part of a school PTA. She is not heavily involved in volunteering, but shows up to every meeting religiously to voice her opinions and sell some Oils. She despises catalog fundraisers and refuses to help sell chocolate. Her children will never earn Prize Level One because Target sells the same products for half the price and why is it her job to make the school money? The PTA president is Karen’s Mortal Enemy. She could always run things so much more smoothly…if only she had the time.

Karen spends her evenings drinking cheap wine on the couch, glued to her iPhone. She spends hours on Facebook, giving unsolicited advice to strangers and posting passive aggressive personal statuses – usually aimed at other women. She also enjoys “sharing” every single recipe she comes across, always noting the ones she would JUST NEVER feed her children.

Karen adjourns to her king sized bed around 11, where she falls asleep in the center of the mattress, under her leopard print comforter. She drifts off while watching Netflix from the account she shares with a relative who she rarely speaks to – except for when reminding them they don’t purchase her Oils so the least they can do is continue paying for her Friends reruns.

You see, we all know or at least have met a Karen.

Karen is that bitch we all love to hate. When you see her at school drop off, you silently say to yourself, “oh shit, here she comes.” When she speaks up at the PTA meeting, you roll your eyes and wish she was bleeding from hers. Karen is that bitch you secretly wish you could see trip and spill her designer coffee all over.

We all want Karen to go away.

But hating Karen is fun. It will always be fun. And the internet will always make it possible to keep loving to hate her.

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