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.)
