kayla aimee: only slightly neurotic

Reader poll: is this normal, slightly odd, or just altogether weird?

Jeff and I had an odd experience and I wanted to ask the internet if it was as weird as I thought it was.

After a few homes that we looked at fell through, we decided on the house we have now, which was a foreclosure. It took a while for Jeff to convince me to go that route, because (contrary to my killa reputation) I'm very tenderhearted and it was tough for me to buy something that I knew had been a personal loss for someone else, especially after losing my job last spring.

We'd heard that foreclosures are often left in less than desirable conditions and ours was not the exception to that rule. It was trashed. That's why we were in the middle of ripping out the floors when the former owner showed up.

We had the doors open and were tossing out the old carpet when a lady walked right up our back deck and into our house (without knocking) as though she owned the place. I think that is because she thought she did still own the place. I think that because that is what she told us. That she still owned the house. And then she (a total stranger) bombarded us with many personal questions about our finances. Jeff handled the situation very gracefully.

I was pretty shocked over the whole thing. I mean, you don't just walk in someone's back door. You go to the front door and you knock. We live in the south, y'all. If you want to go to someone's house and tell them you still own it, then you do it with manners. 

In all seriousness, I wondered if this is just one of those bizarre things that only seem to happen in my life of awkwardness or if any of you have experienced something similar.

(P.S. One day left! Thank you for your votes, they are greatly appreciated)

The pizza guy is probably still telling this story

I was rather unfortunate looking when I was younger. I was not, what you might call, a cute kid. I mean that picture? The one that looks like it belongs on Awkward Photos Dot Com? That is THE BEST ONE I HAVE TO SHOW YOU.

My sister, however, was not as unfortunate looking as me. Maybe because by the time she was born my mother was out of the whole "teased bangs" phase. In any case, my sister was really cute.

She was also frequently mistaken for Jon Benet Ramsey.

One night when she was in middle school we ordered pizza. Prominently displayed by the front door was an oversized photo of my sister in her 5 year old Glamour Shot.

The pizza guy looked at the photo and took a startled step back. He stammered for a minute and then asked my dad how he knew the girl in the photo. My father is quite sarcastic, really very unlike me, and made a quip about stealing her. Obviously my father had not read the situation correctly. The pizza guy's face went completely ashen. It's lucky I walked in when I did. I'm very good at diffusing tense situations. Like that time I solved the Cuban Missile Crisis.

The pizza guy mumbled something and we just barely made out the words Jon Benet when my father realized what was going on. He quickly assured the guy that it was, in fact, his daughter and called her downstairs. The pizza guy looked back and forth between the photo and my sister and left, after receiving an extra large tip. Which he probably thought was a bribe. In my life, you don't just order pizza. You order up a whole dish of awkward.

(Thank you for all of your votes on the Good Mood Gig! Please continue to vote for me here, and I'll keep posting awkward photos of my adolescence. It's a win-win for everyone.)

In a startling turn of events, I am NOT the one making the situation awkward

Thank you for all of your comments on this post and this post. I am currently sitting at Starbucks, where I am compiling recipe/shopping lists from the tips you gave me. I am also attempting to get a photo of this middle aged couple across from me, but unfortunately my webcam just isn't cutting it. These people are currently engaged in the most prominent display of affection that I have ever seen.

Let me set the stage for you. She is sitting in the chair in the corner. At first he was just standing over her, running his hands up and down her legs. UNCOMFORTABLE. And some other things are happening that I can't write about here without feeling as though I'm authoring some sort of dirty novel.  But then! Then he climbs into the chair so that he is sitting on top of her, straddling her. EVEN MORE UNCOMFORTABLE. And then they start making out. STILL REALLY UNCOMFORTABLE. And the poor guys sitting next to them doing a Bible Study are sort of clearing their throats, and looking all embarrassed and I keep trying to catch someone's eye so I can be all "INAPPROPRIATE!" with them.

Sometimes I wish I could take the internet with me everywhere I go, so that you and I could be witnessing this trainwreck together while sipping our lattes and discussing what a hot mess this couple is.

Slightly lacking in the social skills department

I remember just about everyone I ever meet. I have this weird photographic memory thing, which is what enables my mutant speed reading powers. The problem with this is: I think I know everyone. Because I do. I know and remember ridiculous facts about them.

I'll be at Target and recognize a random guy I served coffee to when I worked as a barista. I'll remember that he has two daughters and they take tap lessons. Or eating at Chili's and see the lady that I once sold a frame too at the photography studio and remember that she had her daughter vaccinated with the Gardasil vaccine and her neck swelled up to the size of a balloon. Or shopping at the craft store and run into the lady who I met in the ICU waiting room while my dad was in a coma and recall that her sister had a staph infection.

Or like today, when I recognized one of my boss's contractors as my ex-boyfriend's cousin's husband. That I met maybe 3 times. Over 5 years ago. And yet, I remember that he has an obsession with Auburn paraphanalia, that he works for a lumber company, and there were a lot of Christmas trees at his wedding.

The reason this is annoying is because A) these people don't remember me and B) that makes it really awkward when I have to be like "Oh, I served you coffee once 5 years ago and I have this photographic memory and that is why I know these weird details about you and your life that make me seem like a creepy stalker but I am totally not."

One day I'll learn not to go up to said people and ask creepy-appearing questions like "Hey! How are your daughters, do they still tap dance?"

She Works Hard For The Money, Volume Two

People keep asking me about my new job. Now that I've been here for a month and feel fairly certain that they like me and stuff, I feel more comfortable telling you all about it. I'm working for a builder doing marketing. That means I do all of our blogging, manage our Facebook/Twitter/Etc. accounts, and design our print materials. I'm really lucky to be working for a great company and also really lucky that the real estate market in this area has not been decimated by the economy.

Plus, my office is in one of the model homes and let's just talk about how that is a total step up from the job that I took two months ago where some drunk guy walked in and relieved himself on the floor in front of me. Which I might could have endured if the manager hadn't told me how frequently I should expect that to happen. And that frequency was not "very rarely" but more like "often" which, by the way, was totally not in the job description. 

I barely lasted one day at that job. Actually, I lasted exactly two hours before I drove to Jeff's work in tears on my lunch break and stumbled into his office babbling about how I'd just been scarred for life. I really think I'm owed some sort of worker's comp for the recurring nightmares.

I definitely miss working in the scrapbooking industry but I'm enjoying the slower pace and extra family time. Plus it's freed me up to start doing some freelance projects and that is something I am completely stoked about. It was a tumultous path here (See: naked urinating man) but I feel really peaceful and balanced right now.