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I treasure this awkward first date gift

Awkward first date

My first date with my husband was truly a memorable Valentine’s Day.

I met my hubby, Sir Dad, through a mutual friend that I worked with. After only knowing each other a few weeks we went on our first date on Sunday, February 13, 2000 (the day before Valentine’s Day). We saw this really horrible movie that I don’t even care to name and we were the only ones in the theater. Ahem.

Because it was (almost) Valentine’s Day he gave me a card that read:
“The day my heart found you is the day my heart knew true love.
Inappropriate card for a first date
Um, dude…we just met you psycho stalker!
It’s just a tad awkward when the guy you just met inadvertently
(or blatantly) tells you he loves you on your first date.
If that wasn’t awkward enough he also gave me an, um, interesting gift.

Watch Hubby Chats Episode 2 to hear what gift my hubby gave me on our first date!
(Video here)

(You can watch Hubby Chats Episode 1: Our First Anniversary here.)

They say that it’s the thought that counts but seriously…what was he thinking?! What a truly, um, thoughtful and appropriate gift for a first date. Or not.

In the 14 years since then the movie theater where we had our first date has been torn down but I still have that inappropriate gift from our first date. What a lovely symbol of our undying love that can be treasured and passed down from generation to generation.

On an unrelated note it’s disturbing to discover that I’m only a smaller nose and p*rn lips away from looking like a Lindsay Lohan mug shot.

Do you have a memorable Valentine’s Day story?
Have you ever received an odd gift from a date?
What was your first date with your spouse like?
Do you think my hubby should eat the bra?!
Let me know in the comments!

*10 Years / Hubby Chats: Our First Anniversary
*Dear Diary: I’m a stalker!: Happy Valentine’s Day! Stalk the ones you love!

This post is linked to…
Mama Kat’s Vlog Workshop: 3.) A memorable Valentine’s Day!
Mama Kats Vlog Prompts
Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop: 1.) A memorable Valentine’s Day.
Mama Kats Writers Workshop

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!

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


How to be socially awkward at blogging events

Do you find new blog followers everywhere you go? Are people drawn to your sparkling personality and witty conversation? Are you the life of every party?
Would you like it to stop? If you’d like to make less friends and leave a questionable impression on everyone you meet, then follow these helpful tips.


(Watch on YouTube)
The video and the post are different. Sorry to inform you, you are going to have to both read and watch. 😉

How to be socially awkward at blogging events

1. Find out about the event the day before.
The last thing that you need is more time to be properly prepared so make sure that you find out about the event at the last minute. Having other plans before your event is also great for helping you feel rushed and unprepared.
(When Crazy Meets Exhaustion vlogs and I find out about the Scary Mommy Meet and Greet.)

2. Do not get adequate sleep the night before.
It’s best to be totally exhausted so that you’re really off your game and you have (even more) huge dark circles and bags under your eyes. Personally I like to go to bed at 4:30am and then wake up at 7:00am the next morning.

3. Make a last minute trip to the store.
If you’re going to an event where you have the opportunity to have an author sign something for you and then realize you don’t have a physical book for them to sign you may as well take an hour or so to go buy the book. Make sure that the trip makes you run late so that you barely have time to change your clothes before the event.

4. Bring a tiara.
Carry a tiara in your bag, make sure that it’s visible and that everyone can see it.
Don’t take it out and don’t mention it. Also it helps to carry around a pair of cute but very large shoes that have mud on them from your trip to the park earlier that day.

5. Dress inappropriately.
If everyone else is rocking a cute sundress you should totally shroud yourself in dark clothing, wear flip-flops, and try your best to resemble a 12 year old hippie-ninja wearing pajamas.
Also, be short. Really short.
Me, Christine, Stephanie, Jill, Janene, Meredith, Amanda

6. Make a poor underwear selection.
I’m not just talking about pantylines. Wear something that bunches, creeps, and rides up. Just when someone finds you remotely interesting, slink away and attempt to discreetly pull the underwear from your crack. Repeat 35 times.

7. Be certain the photographer only takes bad photos of you. No, I mean really, really bad photos.
Preferably when you’re in the middle of nervously crossing and uncrossing your legs.
(Source of unedited photo)

8. Sweat like a pig and incessantly fan yourself.
Upper lip sweat is particularly great for making you feel more uncomfortable. Find a program, a postcard, or something similar and fan yourself furiously.

9. Make friends with a lamp.
Just when the conversation is starting to get good, step aside and begin standing awkwardly next to a lamp as though it is your best friend.

10. Ramble about a different blogger.
When a famous blogger is signing your book start rambling about how much you love a different blogger. “I love Kat. I read her blog all the time. She’s so funny. She’s my best friend, except not really. I am not a stalker.”


11. BONUS! Talk smack on your own blog.
Also, when talking to other bloggers be sure to badmouth your own blog, “My blog is small. No one reads it. I don’t even write on it anymore. Everything is stupid. I hate the world.”
Don’t tell them the name of your blog and don’t give them your business card.
IMG_4280_edited-2lamp(Source of unedited photo)

Even though I felt like a socially awkward weirdo, all of the other bloggers were great and assured me that I “did just fine” (Code for: It’s awkward enough without talking about how awkward it is. Please change the subject.).
I want to give a special shout-out to Femme Frugality that had the misfortune of witnessing me accidentally rub my booty all over the food table and then crack a lame joke about sitting on a stack of plates. My apologies.

(You can also see the awkward encounter I’ve imagined if I ever met Kat in person here)

As if I didn’t embarrass myself enough the first time, I’m going to be attending a local blogger Meet and Greet on July 19, 2013. This event is at Ikea, so I’m going to be really busy making friends with lamps, but I’m sure I can make a little time for you if you’d like to experience this train wreck in person.

Where will Jenn be acting like an idiot in 2014?
Come watch it happen in person! 🙂


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!


Read my family blog

This post is linked to: workshop-button-1

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


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.

(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 ;))
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.


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.


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…


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.

(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.


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.


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!


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.

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!


Read my family blog

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