I’m The Only One Who Finds This Funny

“We Didn’t Start The Fire”

October 9, 2012 By Kayla Aimee

The girls and I decided to surprise Laura Anne for her 30th by getting a hotel room downtown and having a girl’s night out, complete with cupcakes of course.

The next morning, Natalie and I decide to go down to the buffet and grab some breakfast. As we step into the hallway we run smack dab into the hotel manager, who is flanked on each side by a fireman. And one of the fireman says “So which room is the fire in?” and the hotel manager answers that it is in room five twenty nine.

Which just so happens to be right across the hall from our room, the one we’ve just left our two best friends behind in.

So I stop mid-stride and hold my hands up because THE HOTEL IS ON FIRE Y’ALL.

And I’m all “I’m sorry, did you just say that the hotel is on fire?”

The fireman looks at me and says “No, no fire” which I’m pretty sure is code for “This whole place is going up in flames.”

And so I’m like ”Really? Because you just asked which room the fire was in so now I’m feeling as though I probably should go rescue my friends from this burning building.”

So I wait as they knock on the door of 529 because unlike Mister Unconcerned Fireman, I am slightly worried about the fact that I JUST HEARD A FIREMAN ASK WHERE THE FIRE WAS. That doesn’t make me feel like casually moseying on down to the breakfast buffet. That makes me feel as though I need to locate an emergency exit and assume my STOP, DROP AND ROLL position immediately.

Turns out, the guy in room 529 thought his room was too hot but instead of saying “hot” he said “fire” as though that were not at all an alarming word to say when you call the front desk. Probably you don’t want to be behind that guy in airport security.

4 Comments Filed Under: I'm The Only One Who Finds This Funny, Uncategorized

Lacking Common Sense: Me and UPS

August 22, 2012 By Kayla Aimee

Because we’ve been working in the basement, our garage is a bit of a mess at the moment and I’ve had to park my car outside. At 5:30 in the morning I was walking Jeff down to his car before he left for work when I remembered I wanted to give him something I’d left in my car. I ducked outside and opened the door, unaware that he had followed me.

“Um, did you not lock your car?” he asked me

“No. I mean, I don’t leave anything important in it so it’s not like there is anything in my car that someone could steal.” I replied.

Jeff looked at me for a minute and then said “Okay. But you do realize that just makes it easier for someone to steal the entire car, right?”

So, if there are any would-be thieves reading this I would just like you to know that my highly desirable 1998 Chevy Cavalier is totally locked. Also, I strategically placed a copy of Twilight on the front seat so if you do steal my car, your thug friends are totally going to mock you for reading girlie books.

Anyhow, I am not the only one lacking in common sense.

I was expecting a package from UPS and when it never showed I emailed the sender and asked for the tracking number.

This is what I saw in the tracking information:

I was like YES! THIS! THIS IS A GREAT PLAN!

You don’t have my street address so the best way to get that information would DEFINITELY be to mail a post card to the street address that you don’t know asking me what my street address is. This makes total sense. There is most certainly not a better way to get this information.

Once I finally got an employee on the phone, I told him that I needed to give him my correct street address so that they could put my package back out for delivery.

“Oh, did you get our postcard?” he asked me

No. No, I most definitely did not.

My Friendship Comes With A Warning Label

July 16, 2012 By Kayla Aimee

This is a (slightly edited for privacy) email that I sent to my one my best friends a few weeks ago. I was in the process of re-designing her husband’s website and might have been indulging in a bit of wine (read: arbor mist) while writing their new “about us” section. This is just a warning that if you decide to be friends with me, you might get emails like this at one in the morning. And that also sometimes a conversation that starts in Starbucks ends up on the internet.

TO: LA
SUBJECT: Your Husband’s Website

So whenever I am working on websites for people, I have to edit myself a ton. Websites that want me to be uber professional are really hard for me because I much prefer to write biting, hilarious content than things like “Our model home features a vaulted ceiling in the master bathroom.”

(EDITOR’S NOTE: That’s a lie, it isn’t hard at all. I’m very professional and you should totally hire me. Also, why do we need extra high ceilings in our bathrooms? What are we hiding?)

So most of my time writing stuff up for various people is spent cutting things out before I send them the final copy. Example, I have deleted the following sentence from your website at least three times now:

By our powers combined, we are Captain Planet!

Because I CRACK MYSELF UP so I keep throwing it in different parts of the bio. Don’t worry. I took it out because probably most people getting married these days have NO IDEA WHO CAPTAIN PLANET IS which is terribly sad and very unfortunate because what do they even do if someone yells FIRE?! Do they even know to yell WIND! WATER! HEART! before they stop, drop and roll? I don’t think they do and that is awful.

Related: I looked up that phrase to make sure I was still saying it in the right order twenty odd years later (you know, IN CASE I EVER NEED TO CALL ON THE POWERS OF CAPTAIN PLANET) and did you know that LeVar Burton was totally the voice of one of the characters? As in Reading Rainbow? How did I not pick up on that as a small child? Also, how did I not know that Whoopi Freakin Goldberg was the voice of Mother Earth? I knew every single Sister Act song by heart (but not Sister Act Two because that one sucked) so I should have totally called that.

I am really now way too involved in this wikipedia article. I particularly like this quote: “Gi is a self-proclaimed marine biologist.” Um, I’m pretty sure you can’t just go around calling yourself a marine biologist, Gi. I’m pretty sure you need an actual degree for that. It’s like med school for the ocean. Did you not see that episode of Seinfeld? Go to college, Gi.

Also related: how did none of us ever notice that *insert other best friend’s husband here* looks EXACTLY LIKE CAPTAIN PLANET? Case in point:

Next time I go to their house, I’m going to see what happens if I throw some polluted sludge at him.

Finally, I would like to say that I just read over this email and realized that probably I should post this entire thing to my blog. It might be the best thing I’ve ever written. Someone needs to give me a dang book deal already. This has PULITZER PRIZE written ALL OVER IT.

I shall now return to working on your husband’s website. I take his career very seriously.

Love,
KA

I like to imagine that all of my friends are now staring intensely at their husbands trying to discern any captain planet-like features*

13 Comments Filed Under: I'm The Only One Who Finds This Funny Tagged With: #childofthenineties

Text Message Picture War

January 11, 2012 By Kayla Aimee

Disclaimer: In order to understand this post, you’ll need to know the following: I call my niece Nixie. She calls me Keeka. She calls Scarlette “Beans”. Actually, we all call Scarlette “Beans” but that’s another story for another day.

My sister and I share the same completely absurd sense of humor. You know how something innocuous can spin out of control and turn into something absolutely ridiculous? And also awesome? That’s what happened when I finally crawled out of the dark ages and got a smart phone. I don’t have cable but I can send text message pictures and that has opened up a whole new world (a dazzling place I never knew…)

Specifically, one where my sister and I try to out do each other by texting the craziest pictures we can find on the interwebs. It didn’t start out that way. We started off exchanging cute and funny pictures of our nieces. Totally innocent and sweet.

Then one day I made a glass of what my niece calls “Pink Milk” which is milk loaded up with strawberry Hershey’s syrup. Don’t judge me. And I thought it would be funny to send a picture of it to my sister. So I did. I sent her a picture of my drink with the label “Keeka’s Pink Milk.”

That sounds like the world’s lamest text message. But not if you’re my sister. Because she sent back a photo of my niece playing in a bathtub filled with purple water titled “Nixie’s Purple Bath.”

Seven hundred and forty three text messages later, we’re sending each other texts of the most ridiculous photos we can find on the internet. Except that isn’t enough for us, oh no. My sister sends me a video of a monkey riding on a pig. I happen to be purging everything I’ve ever owned in my entire life, which is why at the exact moment I received it I was holding a paper mache pig that I made in fourth grade. Seriously. This is why I fail at not being a hoarder. And that’s when I thought it would be even funnier to send her a picture of Scarlette’s stuffed monkey sitting on my paper mache pig.

Which resulted in a picture text message war spin off in which I take the unspoken challenge to re-create whatever absurd photo she sends me with objects found around my house. This is not discussed between us, simply understood. It’s a twin thing. I mean, we’re not twins but that’s what it would be if we were. What followed was this:

I was pretty impressed with myself but my sister took points off for the lack of flames in my version. To which I responded that I thought about using a candle but decided against endangering my child by allowing her to play near open flame. And my sister agreed that yes, we don’t want to set Beans on fire, accompanied by the following text message:

That’s right. I did what any loving mother would do when ~~getting involved in a land war in Asia~~ deeply over-invested in a text message picture battle with her sister. I cut out a hand-drawn flame and strapped to my child’s forehead. Flaming Beans. I win.

The worst part about it is I promptly forgot that I had done that and Scarlette continued happily playing her piano with a giant flame shooting off the top of her head for at least another twenty minutes.

I realize that this is only funny to people who are my sister, which is pretty much just the one person but I want to immortalize this exchange for when I print out this year’s blog book. Also, I’m very productive and not at all wasteful with my time. Just look at that highly organized closet.

P.S. These pictures are going to look A-MAZING in my project life album. Word to your mother.

24 Comments Filed Under: I'm The Only One Who Finds This Funny

Safety Proofing: Silly Warning Labels

June 14, 2011 By Kayla Aimee

I ordered some baby-proofing stuff. I mean, sure Scarlette hasn't even mastered rolling over yet, but I'm nothing if not prepared. I like to be ready for every eventuality, hence my tornado safety room. It doesn't always work out in my favor (see: safety clippers) but for the most part I've got this safety thing down.

I was blowing my hair dry when I noticed the warning tag on the hairdryer. I've had the hair dryer for a few years and never noticed it before. It probably only caught my eye now because I'm on high alert when it comes to safety stuff. Like, that small tear in the rug? One day she could catch her toe on it and go hurling across the room INTO THE FIREPLACE. I recognize and acknowledge my neurosis.

Anyhow, meet my hairdryer:
It would like you to please UMPLUG IT.

I found this hysterical because I have a warped sense of humor and thus I immediately went looking at all of the other warning tags in our house because I had nothing better to do than take pictures of the tags on our appliances. I probably should take up scrapbooking again, no?
I quite enjoy this one. First of all, they are mistaken. Straightening irons are totally meant for household use, as is evidenced by the amount of times I have quickly rid my shirt of of a wrinkle or seven because I'm too lazy to walk downstairs to grab the real iron.

But I am confused about why the warning pertains only to Canadians. Just because I don't use cute money or have an affinity for using the short vowel sound of the letter O, it's okay for me to stick a hot iron in my eye? Did some Canuck attempt to straighten their eyelashes? What prompted this warning? These are the things that keep me up at night. That and a 7 month old speaking in foreign tongues.

It gets better. A bottle of Listerine warned me not to drink it. I can't even complete the 30 seconds I'm supposed to swish the stuff around for, so I assure you I'm not throwing it back like a glass of sweet tea. That's what you say when you know nothing about vodka, by the way.

A bag of plastic packaging warned me not to place it over my head. And I'm really glad because I was just thinking to myself "Self, what should I do with this piece of trash? I could throw it out OR I could put it over my head. Decisions, decisions."

Ironically, I took all of the above photos of the (unplugged)appliances sitting on the side of the bathtub. It has the best light.