Adventures with: Names

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose

By any other name would smell as sweet." William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet (II, ii, 1-2)

My name is Kayla. I don’t have a middle name – and if I did, it wouldn’t be any of your damn business! I like my name. I wasn’t picked on too badly because of it. It was always half-hearted because there’s not much the icky boy-creatures could do with it and all of the girls were named Brooke, Rachel or Ashley. The extent of the teasing was:

My boyfriend’s back and you’re gonna be in trouble

Kayla! Kayla! My boyfriend’s back!

I was an introvert, so my lack of reaction didn’t do too much to inspire their brainwaves. Plus, what can you do with Kayla Beck? There are three syllables of mediocrity. I did get a few cool points when the musical act Beck became popular in the 1990s, but the name has been otherwise “meh”.

It was almost not like that. My mother was a teenager when she got pregnant with me. The sperm donor is a less than savory character, so we’ll pretend that he wasn’t around. Oh, wait… Anyways, my mother had these lovely prenatal hormonal fantasies about naming me:

Sharla Shantel

What sort of person would I have been if I had been saddled with that name? In all honesty, there was a good chance that it could have been:

Sharla Shantel Oplotnik

So no, Shakespeare, a rose would not have been as sweet under that name. I would have been teased in school. I would have become a stripper. I would not have embraced being White Trash personified as I have now. Okay, I’m not the literal personification of White Trash, but I still check People of Walmart (dot) com for my picture from time to time. One must be diligent in saving her good name.

Luckily, my grandmother was present at my birth and she was not a spawn-ridden teenager. She was, however, a great lover of the soap opera Days of Our Lives. Kayla and Steven were in the midst of their great love affair. Thankfully, my grandmother was able to strongarm the sperm donor into agreeing that my name should indeed be Kayla. As a consolation prize, the middle name is the same as my mother’s and my father’s – and probably half of everyone else in America.

I am Kayla and I rock the Beck. I rock the mispronunciations. I rock the Kay, KayKay, Kaylou, and Becky.

I do not rock the soap opera lifestyle and I avoid guys named Steven (and Stephen) like the plague now. I’m pretty sure they’re all worthless bastards. It’s all in the name.

**Disclaimer: Just because that was almost MY name does not mean that I assume that anyone else in the world who may have that name would want to or have the ability to shake their ladybits on stage for money. Or be as awesome as I would have been. True story. 11/8/2012

Adventures with: Repair Men

I don’t know why, but here lately there has been an abundance of men coming to work on various aspects of the house.

Last Thursday, we had two men come from our satellite company to fix the cords in the living room and move Eden’s box from her bedroom to the playroom. As I previously blogged, I had a very special experience with one of the guys. We watched a segment of one of the morning shows about men with developed breasts. No, the fact that some men have nicer breasts than me is not funny. However, the situation is hilarious. Watching man-boobs with a total stranger is downright ludicrous.

Yesterday, some guys had to come lift our house.

We had foundation issues apparently (I think). Anyways, we called Nolan Ryan to come fix the issue, but his business was WAY too expensive. So we went with the Other Guys.

 As you can see, the house was at a slant.

Anyways, the Other Guys got here to fix our house. I didn’t pay much heed to the men because it was early in the morning and I didn’t want to get dressed. Hey, it was 9am and I don’t have to be at work until 1pm. It was like 4am for you people who work mornings, no? I tried my damnedest to ignore them men going in and out of my house, which was easily accomplished because I had four little girls who are about to be five and six to entertain. (Eden had a sleepover for the cousins the night before.)

As I was cooking breakfast for the girls, the lead man became very flirtatious with me. I think there must be an instant attraction to a lady who can make homemade biscuits by a fat man. I don’t blame him. I went on with my breakfast-making and he went on with his flirting. I went on ignoring it. Whatever.

The time came to run off the children and clean up the kitchen. Lead Man was still there pattering around and ogling my sexy mommyness. Then he began speaking in Spanish to his workers under the house. Somewhere during him giving orders, he told the guys that I wasn’t wearing a bra. I choked a little, but kept cleaning. After he gave one final order that I didn’t quite understand, something about “lifting the gatos”. (I have two cats, so that disturbed me a little more than him perving on me.)

I asked him if the cats were getting in the way of the workers under the house. I must say, his eyes bugged out a little. I then explained how I didn’t completely understand the last order, and I was worried about Skeeter-Waller and Charlotte’s. I also disclosed that I have a pretty decent understanding of Spanish. Apparently, gato means more than “cat” in Spanish – it also means “jack”, which was being used to lift our house.

Lead Man reaffirmed that I could indeed comprende what they were saying, and practically ran out of the door to tell his men. It made me giggle.

Silly men.

Adventures with: Texting

I began texting one of my good friends from a number he didn't know this afternoon. Since I haven't played a prank on anyone in quite some time, I had to have a little fun. The conversation went as follows:

Kayla: Hey

David: Who is this

Kayla: Your worst nightmare.

David: Well not much of one. So either tell me who you are or don’t bother texting back. Thanks.

Kayla: The Oogie Boogie

David: Yea bye.

            Okay, so you are using a program that has changed your 

            number. Impressive now who are you.

Kayla: You’re no fun! :P

             It’s a free app.

David: I have it now still haven’t told me who you are.

Kayla: I haven’t,  have I?

David: Who.

Kayla: :)

David: Infuriating that’s what you are.

Kayla: Why, thank you, David!

David: Who are you

Kayla: Me

David: …who is me then

Kayla:  You are David.

David:  …what is your name

Kayla:  You know my name.

David: Tell me anyway

            Come on.

            Who are you?

Kayla: You already know it.

             :-)

David:  Tell me anyway I don’t care. Say it

Kayla:  Me

David: Don’t give me that I am tired of playing.

Kayla: Lies!

David: Name now.

Kayla: Now already has a name.

David: What is your name.

Kayla: My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.

David: Princess bride seriously you are quoting that. Please I am tired of playing

Kayla: I’ve always wanted to use that in a conversation. My heart sings with giddy joy.

David: Okay so you’ve had phone pick someone else and quit this

             Fun* who are you seriously

Kayla: The name’s Bond. James Bond.

David: Fine forget it.

I then revealed my identity to David. And the reaction was:

 

David: I hate you.

To be honest, it's usually me that gets to say that line. Oh well.

Adventures with: Cleaning (or a Lack Thereof) -- Part Two

I woke up the next day to make my bathroom slightly less than disgusting for the visiting relatives (which is a trial with a four year old). The guys who came to our house to fix our satellite issues were quite a distraction. Oh, yes. Distraction. But I digress.

The satellite guys finished their job (which I had to supervise, of course) and turned the television on to make sure everything was in good working order. My favorite morning news/entertainment show happened to be on:

They were doing a segment on a man who had breast reduction surgery and was showing various pictures (which I will not illustrate -- today). The younger of the two satellite repair guys sat down on the couch next to me. We sat looking at the television with no words.

Then we giggled in unison. A lot. Believe me, the situation called for it. There is nothing like an awkward situation on television making for another awkward situation in your living room. Never doubt the fact that the greatest gift God gave us (after love) is a sense of humor. I hope you have yours, because I sure as hell keep mine close.



In case you are wondering, the satellite repairman and I fell madly in love. We knew from the moment we began to giggle that it was meant to be. Unfortunately, he had a wedding ring on, so I had to send him on his marry (hardy har har) way. All of this was said without names being exchanged or words being said. No, it's not just a figment of my imagination. Okay, fine. It is. But only a little bit.


Hey, a girl can always dream.

Adventures with: Cleaning (or a Lack Thereof) -- Part One

I will be the first to admit that I am probably one of the most easily distracted individuals to ever walk on the face of the planet, especially when it comes time for me to do something else. Hell, I was going to have this blog post written by Wednesday night, but you can obviously see what day this is.

The reason the cleaning was so important this go-round is due to my aunt coming in from out of town to visit. My grandmother was terrified that someone would want to sleep in the Kayla Cave, so I needed to clear some things out of there. By things, I mean everything that I brought with me when Eden and I moved in nearly five years ago. It started off as a temporary arrangement until I was able to get back on my feet. To be perfectly honest, I kinda like being on my ass. Not OUT flat on my ass, but doing a bit of lazing around. (I seriously don't really do that, except when it comes to chores. I have two parttime jobs with the same employer and I am usually enrolled in school.) Anyways, I've always held on to hope that I would magically come in to some windfall of lots of money and move into my own abode. It hasn't happened, so crap built up. I had filing drawers, art supplies, skinny clothes (which I will probably never wear again), and various other manners of junk. I treated them all as my "Precious" and dragged my feet in kicking the bastards out. Once I drug my feet into it, I was able to find distractions!

I'm going on a cruise in December and I always get a sunburn on my scalp if I'm outside for very long. I'm not a 100% pure Ginger - I'm what you would call a Daywalker - but I still have issues with getting sunburned quickly and in odd places. Instead of cleaning, I began fantasizing about the cruise and what I could do to ward off the sun. I had the perfect idea - I could use my beautiful scarves or sarongs to tie around my head in a turban! I had trouble finding a style to suit me, but after about 20 minutes of tying and retying, I was able to find something that worked for me.

Oops, I was supposed to be cleaning and not playing with strips of pretty fabric. I began cleaning again and was about to put up my other scarves. I then thought it was funny to be a ghost with all of my fabric!

Okay, it didn't look like that. I looked like Laurence of Arabia + Hot Mess + Very Little Ghost = Someone who should be CLEANING.

*sigh* I know, I was getting distracted. Time to go on with my duties. I had to get everything out of my room.

WAIT!!!

I needed to check my Twitter account. What is this? Authors are on there! I just had to pester them in any way possible to avoiding cleaning!

Sadly, they weren't in the mood to deal with my Shenanigans and did not distract me at all. I didn't even bring up Fraggles!

However...

Eden was hungry and wanted lunch! I didn't want to turn on the oven and I didn't have anything thawed out, so I decided to make some cornbread pancakes and greens!

Eden was horrified and did not eat anything. I did gladly, doused with vinegar from pickled peppers! *purrs* My little niece, Kember, also partook of the excellent feast.

Once I finished eating and began to look for other distracting possibilities, my friend Carrie showed up. She got out the whip (yes, I have one -- thanks, Sean!) and beat me into cleaning. Not really, but threats were made.

I got most of the room cleaned to a manageable level, and got rid of most of everything that I owned. Honestly, I didn't want any of the crap. Carrie did, and even made off with a Fry Daddy. Yes, I am a Southern woman. I keep deep fryers in my bedroom. What? You don't?

We ended the day by going on a field trip to Carrie's mother's house (another distraction from the task) instead of cleaning out the *shudders* bathroom. I shall save that adventure for Part Two.

Adventures with: Louisiana Lottery

Oh, the perpetuation of stereotypes! It's glorious! Yes, we are all rednecks who live in swamps and shoot alligators! Okay, I've never watched Swamp People. I'm probably not too far off the mark in guessing that is the gist of it. Here's what you can find in our local gas stations:

Yes, this is a real lottery ticket. No, I didn't buy one because they were sold out! *sigh*

Adventures with: A Random Music Challenge

I decided to push myself a little and illustrate five songs in one picture each. I didn't skip any because they were hard, stupid, something I didn't want you to know that I had, etc. It's not as good as it could be, but my mind is otherwise occupied - it is July, after all. Regardless, I hope you enjoy (because I plan on doing it again very soon).

Waiting - Middle Class Rut

Friends on the Other Side - Princess and the Frog Soundtrack

Bewitched Theme Song

Tomorrow Never Knows - Sucker Punch Soundtrack

Lightning Crashes - Live