Category Archives: Old School

The time I scrubbed the kitchen floor


The time I scrubbed the kitchen floor

The time I scrubbed the kitchen floor is one of my grandma’s favorite stories to tell about me. I was about four years old. I was visiting at my grandma’s house and I told her to lie on the sofa so that I could take care of her and clean the house. I even made her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. By the way, my cooking skills have not improved much.

The photoshop skills are strong in this one.  Ahem.

The photoshop skills are strong in this one. Ahem.

Then I pulled a stool up to the sink and washed all of the dishes. For my grand finale, I decided to scrub the kitchen floor.

Be impressed by this fancy "time lapse" drawing.

Be impressed by this fancy “time lapse” drawing.

This was the early 1980s: there were no child safety locks on the cabinets, and despite his popularity back then, there was no Mr. Yuk sticker in sight as I looked under the sink to choose which cleaning products to use. My grandmother’s kitchen was enormous and I probably spent an hour in there on my hands and knees scrubbing the floor while my grandma rested. When I was finished I was so proud of myself and I called my grandma into the room to see the sparkly clean kitchen.

The time I scrubbed the kitchen floor

My grandma’s reaction in her own words:

“I will never forget the sight. You had scrubbed the whole floor with Comet and it was so thick on the floor that’s all you could see. When grandpa came home from work he had to really scrub the floor. But you tried and really did a good job with Comet.”

The time I scrubbed the kitchen floor

Yes, I had used Comet to scrub the kitchen floor, probably because that’s what we used at home to clean out our cast iron bathtub and it was the only household cleanser that I had prior experience with. The entire kitchen floor was covered in a thick layer of beautiful blue, gritty Comet. My grandma was shocked, but she only praised my hard work. My grandpa, who had to clean up my mess and rewash the dishes, was far less enthusiastic about my “job well done”.

The time I scrubbed the kitchen floor

Scrubbing the kitchen floor with Comet? Epic fail! And I can’t really say that my cleaning skills have improved much since then…

Do you have an epic cleaning fail? Did you ever scrub something with Comet that you should’nt have? Let me know in the comments!

Today, April 07, is No Housework Day! Celebrate with me and my pal Rachael from Non-Domestic Mama by linking up your housework and anti-housework related posts here. You can also “like” the No Housework Party Facebook Page and party on Twitter using the hashtag #nohousework!

No Housework Party

I Make Myself the Queen is an itty-bitty newborn blog. Please be gentle with it, wash your hands before touching it, and be sure to come back often to tell it how cute it is!

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Read my family blog www.coolestfamilyontheblock.com where I pretend to be a good mom.

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1984 Costumes: What the wha?


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It was 1984. I was 5 years old. And I actually have no memory of this Halloween at all. From the photos I can gather that this was a church Halloween party and that I was a white bunny and my younger sister was a lion.
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We kids were dressed in fairly traditional costumes: Bunny, Gypsy, Raggedy Ann, Superman, Clown, another Bunny (the nerve!), and a Lion.

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For being a children’s party at church, there are some pretty creepy looking costumes in the background.

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1. Is that a giant hat or does the person have a sack over their head?
And why? Is it a scarecrow? Why doesn’t it have a face?!!!
2. Probably the most disturbing of all. Is that a green-faced bearded lady wearing a shower cap, rubber kitchen gloves, and holding a broom?
And also…???
3. That is actually a Care Bear, but it’s still scary.
4. This clown is way more creepy than fun and there is some seriously unfortunate positioning going on with that balloon. Also, why do we only have oblong balloons? Was there a round balloon shortage that year?
5. This mini clown in front is also disturbing. Especially the way it’s staring at the other children.

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And seriously…what in the bleepity-bleep are those things?!!!

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What were some of your childhood costumes?
Were there certain costumes that frightened you as a child?
Let me know in the comments!

*This post is linked to SITS Blogtober 2013: Throwback Thursday.
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I Make Myself the Queen is an itty-bitty newborn blog. Please be gentle with it, wash your
hands before touching it, and be sure to come back often to tell it how cute it is!

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Read my family blog www.coolestfamilyontheblock.com

Someone needs to apologize to Jem…and to Jenn


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Jem is truly outrageous…and so is what happened to my Jem coloring book when I was a child!
Watch the video to find out who needs to apologize to me!
(Video here)

Oh the injustice of it all!!!! It was premeditated, you can see the devious look in her eyes!
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Be sure to check out what the other vloggers have to say over at Mama Kat’s Vlog Workshop.
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Did you have a favorite coloring book as a child (or adult)?
Is there someone who owes you an apology?
Let me know in the comments!

Related Posts
*There’s a bra in my lunchbox

I Make Myself the Queen is an itty-bitty newborn blog. Please be gentle with it, wash your
hands before touching it, and be sure to come back often to tell it how cute it is!

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Read my family blog www.coolestfamilyontheblock.com

There’s a bra in my lunchbox


You may have already read this story on my other blog a few years ago, but it’s back complete with illustrations.

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Don’t trade lunches with Jenny!

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(Why yes, my elementary school was extremely tiny and it was also shaped like a poorly drawn pencil ;))
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My mother, being the evil genius that she is, decided to find me the most itchy, scratchy, uncomfortable bra that she could possibly find. This way I’d be quiet about wanting a bra and I’d see that growing up too fast isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. Her evil plan had worked and since she saw that I had learned my lesson, she never made me wear that horrible bra again.

The joke was on her 5 years later when I actually needed a bra and she had to practically wrestle me into one! I had no desire to ever wear one again after my traumatic experience in the first grade. I required one with no underwire, no lace, no trim, no padding. Two band-aids would’ve done a better job. Then a few years after that when I really blossomed, I went the other direction and wore my bra constantly, I even slept in it every night.

In my late teens I would get a job in the lingerie department of a local department store and would eventually become a fit consultant and the department manager for 5 years.

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Sadly my mom got rid of my Popples lunchbox years ago and now I have to keep all of my bras in a drawer like a normal person.

When did you get your first bra?
Were you excited about it or embarrassed?
Was your bra itchy and uncomfortable too?
Let me know in the comments!

This was linked to Mama’s Kat Writer’s Workshop for the prompt:
3.) Write a post inspired by the word: bra

Related Posts:
*Awkward: I sold my teacher what?!!!
*Dear Diary: I’m kind of a stalker

I Make Myself the Queen is an itty-bitty newborn blog. Please be gentle with it, wash your
hands before touching it, and be sure to come back often to tell it how cute it is!

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Read my family blog www.coolestfamilyontheblock.com

Awkward: I sold my teacher what?!!!


You may have already read this story on my other blog a few years back. But I wanted to breath new life into it and add some illustrations.

I sold my teacher what

1991

It was around March or April of 1991. I was in 6th grade. I was 11 years old. I had the misfortune of having the same math teacher two years in a row. He wasn’t all that bad and still I wasn’t very fond of him. Maybe because Math was my least favorite subject and my grades were slipping that year.

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(Look at that face of innocence! And also that sa-weeeeet outfit ;))

Middle School was the time when we learned what “going together” was all about (sorta). Kids were “going together” and breaking up every week. “Going together” more than 2 weeks was rare and nearly unheard of during these formative years. I myself had already had one other “going together” and breaking up experience so far that year. Now I found myself “going with” another boy. I don’t remember much about our “relationship”. I don’t remember how we got together or how we broke up…I only remember that it happened and was, in the scheme of things, quite an uneventful period of time in my life. The only mention of the “relationship” in my diary was short, cryptic and written 3 months after the fact.

(Names were erased to protect the privacy of those mentioned in my diary ;))
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The spelling is literally killing me. 3 “mounths”, wow!

There’s probably more I don’t remember about this experience than what I do remember and I regret that I can’t provide you with all of the compelling details. All I know is that the halls had recently emptied, I’m guessing that the bell was about to ring for the start of class. My boyfriend was in the hall with me and before he left he gave me a quick peck. I’m fairly certain that this was the first time that had happened, yet it happened so quickly it almost seemed routine. I’m not even sure the kiss hit my lips although I know it had intended to.

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Then he came walking up to me…my math teacher. Tall (in comparison to me), round, balding, and bearded he towered over me with his eyes narrowing at me through his round glasses. He informed me that he had just seen what had happened and would be calling my mother. I wanted to yell that he had kissed me and that I was the innocent victim of a hit and run (which was the truth), but I said nothing and walked with my head down, red-faced and embarrassed into class.

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I don’t think my math teacher ever bothered calling my mother because she never talked to me about it, and believe me, she definitely would’ve talked to me about it. I suppose there was nothing to worry about, yet I still couldn’t help feeling embarrassed that my teacher thought me a naughty girl. In fact this very incident may have been what led to the ultimate demise of my “relationship” with Mr. Kiss-and-Run. I bet you’re thinking that this is rather a boring story and so far you’re right. Little did 11 year old me know the irony that awaited me 7 years later…

1998

It was around September or October of 1998. I was 19 years old. I was working in the lingerie department of a very newly opened department store in the mall. Half of our department’s merchandise consisted of respectable sleepwear and robes, the other half of bras and panties and other foundations. Far from being Fredrick’s of Hollywood or even Victoria’s Secret we only carried a few racks of “special occasion” lingerie, otherwise known as…the sexy stuff.

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(Me 1998, still the picture of innocence.)

Because the store had recently opened I was scheduled to work with several other cashiers, something that would be unheard of in the future as many resignations and lay-offs would occur. I was standing near the register talking with another girl when I happened to glance over towards the “special occasion” lingerie…
And then I saw him. Looking through the racks of sexy lingerie was my 5th-6th grade math teacher. He didn’t appear as tall since I was now (a little) taller than my 1991 counterpart, but he was still round (although perhaps more round), still balding (although more bald), still bearded (although more gray), and still wearing round glasses.

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Before I had a chance to tell my co-worker and then flee from the scene…horror of all horrors he came walking up to the cash register. Suddenly I found myself alone. Where did my co-worker go so quickly?! I took my long hair and threw it in front of my face to hide my features and turned my name badge around to hide my name. I was hoping he would quickly purchase a nice tasteful negligee for his wife (?) without recognizing me. Well, he didn’t recognize me…at least he didn’t acknowledge that he recognized me. In fact I’m not sure he even looked directly at me as I’m sure he may have been quite embarrassed of himself.

Embarrassed because, no…he was not in fact buying a nice tasteful negligee. Instead I found myself ringing up a pair of crotchless panties…in size 2XL…for my 6th grade math teacher! (*shudder*)
Paying with a credit card confirmed my suspicions that it was indeed him. Aside from me mumbling the purchase total I’m quite sure that neither of us spoke during the whole transaction including any hellos or goodbyes.

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He left and I pulled my hair back out of my face which was much redder than it had been 7 years ago in the hallway at school. Once I had a moment to recover from the horror of what had just happened, a smile broke across my face and I found myself wishing that I had his mother’s phone number…that naughty, naughty boy!

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Do you have an awkward story to share?
Let me know in the comments!


This was linked to Mama’s Kat Writer’s Workshop for the prompt:
1.) Describe a time you made things…awkward.
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Related Posts:
*Dear Diary: I’m kind of a stalker

I Make Myself the Queen is an itty-bitty newborn blog. Please be gentle with it, wash your
hands before touching it, and be sure to come back often to tell it how cute it is!

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Read my family blog www.coolestfamilyontheblock.com

My Tween Diary: I’m kind of a Middle School stalker


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This is my old diary from Middle School.

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I wrote in it on and off throughout 6th, 7th, and 8th grade (1990-1993). There was so much drama in it…except there really wasn’t any actual drama. It was dramatic for me at the time.
My diary is hilariously embarrassing…or embarrassingly hilarious, I’m not sure which one.

Lucky for all of you, I don’t get embarrassed.
And even luckier than that “Read an entry from an old diary” was one of Mama Kat’s vlog prompts this week. That’s right, I’m going to pour my 12 1/2 year old soul out to you.

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Today I’m going to read “Friday March 20, 1992”.
This was during my “Kevi-Poo” stage.

(Email and feed readers click to watch video.)

Well, there you go. I was kind of a stalker.

I actually had a denim purse that one of my friends wrote this kid’s name all over. Unfortunately most of the ink has faded over the years. Sadness. (Click on the image to enlarge)

Kevi-Poo purse

I have many more riveting entries like this one. They’re not all about Kevi-Poo, there are at least two other boys that play a major role in my diary. I could make an entire series out of it if anyone else actually cared.

Do you have an old diary from Middle School?
Did you have a crazy-stalker crush when you were younger?
What did you vlog about today?
Let me know in the comments!

If you’ve vlogged/blogged about your diary, I’d love to see it!
Be sure to stop by Mama Kat’s and check out the other vloggers!
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Also linked to: Jenny on the Spot: Daily Vlog / June: Show Me the Funny

I Make Myself the Queen is an itty-bitty newborn blog. Please be gentle with it, wash your
hands before touching it, and be sure to come back often to tell it how cute it is!

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Read my family blog www.coolestfamilyontheblock.com

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