kayla aimee: only slightly neurotic

Overheard: all that glitters...

Jeff sent me an email requesting that I pick up some lotion at the store. I flipped through my coupons and found one for a bottle of Olay for dry skin. I felt really good about that because Jeff has dry skin and so obviously this was going to be the best possible choice of lotion for him.

Later that night Jeff eyed the purple bottle critically.

"That looks like pretty girly lotion" he said

"It's not girly lotion" I replied

"It looks like it smells girly. Did you smell it?" he asked

"No, but it isn't scented or anything so I'm sure it's fine" I told him

5 minutes later he walked into the kitchen glimmering like Edward Cullen.

"You're right, he said, this lotion isn't girly at all. By the way, I have glitter all over me. From the lotion."

Friday Randoms: a) last day to vote! b) last day to enter to win a $20 giftcard and a space to my and Wilna's holiday class!

They call me killa

No really, that's what they call me. Or, that's what they call me at the Heating and Air service anyhow, according to my invoice. Apparently I've got quite the reputation there and it's not as a charming southern belle. No, they see me as more of the hard, cold, street type. Not streetwalking type, don't start any rumors. And they are right, really. I'm very hardcore. You should see me do dishes. I jack those dishes up, yo. I've seen many misspellings of my name over the years (which is always confusing because phonics people, KAY-LA) but this is BY FAR my favorite:

 

It's currently hanging on my fridge, to remind my husband not to mess with me because I'm so gangsta. Word to your mother.

(Stop, collaborate and listen: please vote for me. Vanilla Ice approves this message. At least, that guy I married that I'm currently referring to as Vanilla Ice does. Never mind that he's refusing to respond that moniker.)

Overheard: The soundtrack of a marriage

It's a known fact among the people that have been in my life for a lengthy period of time that I have the potential to become one of those people you see on the TV show Hoarders.

Jeff casually mentioned to me the other day how he was telling his co-workers that if left to my own devices, I'd end up being spotlighted on A&E for my hoarding disorder. Then we had a nice chat called "Acceptable Things To Tell Your Co-Workers About Your Wife." In case you are wondering, "She's pretty" and "She's really pretty" are both acceptable things to tell your co-workers about your wife.

It's also acceptable to tell a female co-worker who may or may not be flirting with you that if she continues said flirtation, then your wife? She will cut you.

I'm revealing my hoarding tendencies to you as context for the following conversation. This is what my marriage sounds like:

Jeff: Do you think I should throw out this old Sara Lee keychain?

KA: It's broken. Throw it out.

Jeff: Yeah, but it was my dad's so I'm thinking I should hang on to it to remember him by.Wait, is that hoarderish of me?

KA: Well, I would keep it.  Which means that it's definitely hoarderish of you and you should throw it out.

Jeff: Yeah, you're right. Besides, I have a lot of other things to remember him by.

KA: Right. Like the fact that HE IS STILL ALIVE.

Isn't it ironic, don't you think?

This week a guy, maybe a high school kid, drags a chair into the empty lot across the street from me and sits down. This in and of itself is odd but hey, maybe he's the commune with nature type. If nature consists of some dirt and gravel.

I lose interest and go back to what I was doing when I hear the faint exceedingly loud notes of The Star Spangled Banner being played. On a saxaphone.

I look out the window and he's sitting in an empty lot playing the national anthem on a saxaphone.

Are you supposed to stand with your hand over your heart for that? I did just in case. I mean, it's almost an involuntary reaction when you hear the national anthem, right? Somewhere around his thirteenth rendition though, I decided I'd fulfilled my patriotic duty.

This is a good enough story as is, but the next day I happened to be outside when the guy's mother approached me.

She might have been scolding me about something when she uttered the following sentence "You know, what I am trying to say is that I really value having things quiet."

I was pointing out the irony in this to Jeff when he said "Of course she values having things quiet. That's why she sends her kid to the middle of the neighborhood to play the saxaphone."

 

Google me this...

Thanks to the little statistics thingamibobber, I see exactly what phrases people have typed into google to stumble across my little blog. Most of them are legit things that I have blogged about, like finding the perfect pink nail polish or making your own wedding programs. But some of them are completely absurd, which bodes well with me since I have a soft spot for absurdity.

Here are a few absurd google phrases that brought people here which I am quite fond of:

I'm locked in my basement. I get this. We've all been there. Or maybe just me. Anyhow, the thing is, well, I'm not sure the best way to rectify that situation is to google it. Better to look around for something to pick the lock with. Or see if you can reach that window.

Short are practically panties. Okay Miley Cyrus. I know you don't have any sort of decent parental influence. But honestly, the whole stripper pole on the ice cream cart thing was disturbing enough. Shopping online for tiny, innappropriate shorts is not okay. And wearing the black bra under the white tank top? Does not distract us from how horrible your voice is.

Funny quirks about me. Do you even know how to use Google? If you want to know funny quirks about yourself, I suggest consulting your friends and family. You know, people that actually know you. Failing that, maybe a psychiatrist.

Kayla Aimee rumor. Okay, this isn't funny. This comes up in my stats every.single.day. What in the heckfire are you people looking for? Now hopefully it will bring you to this post, where you will feel all shamefaced and want to send me flowers to make up for having to see this:

I can't take off my catsuit. Here's a question: WHY ARE YOU EVEN WEARING A CATSUIT IN THE FIRST PLACE? Unless you are on Broadway performing in the actual show CATS, there is no reason for this. Wait, is this you again Miley Cyrus?

Babyfaking. I can't figure out why anyone would want to do this. Or why it would bring them to my blog, where I've been very enthusiastic about marriage and the act of babymaking.

And finally, this one that I think may have come from my husband: does my wife have neuroticism?