Thursday, February 21, 2013

Throwback Thursday... Blog Style!

So, the other day Shawn and I were farting around at his parent's house.  We were in the basement, and I realized there were a butt-ton of boxes with Shawn's name on it.  I told him that we needed to take them to our house so it wasn't taking up so much dang space in his parent's storage room.  But I mostly just wanted to go through all his old crap, because how fun is that?  Going through memories is always fun for me.  (Mostly because otherwise, I wouldn't remember a damn thing I've done in my life.)  So I was excited to learn a little more about my husband, even though I was positive the moment he pooped in front of me, there was nothing more to learn.


We managed to stuff 7 or 8 boxes of his life into our Altima and hauled it all home.  Because I was starting to feel left out, we went and picked up the boxes I had at my parent's house too.  Once we got it all home, we started going through everything, hoping to consolidate it all a bit - you know, so 50 years from now when our kids are going through all our crap, it'll be a tiny bit less traumatizing.

For the last week our living room has looked like the volcano of Shawn and Chelsea's past erupted all over the damn place.  Seriously.  Our floor is covered with trophies (all Shawn's, naturally), papers, Superman memorabilia, pictures, boxes, and school assignments dating all the way back to Kindergarden.  To say it's giving me a major OCD flare-up would be a massive understatement.  However, that isn't to say we haven't been having a blast with it.

Oh yeah.  I love my husband for letting me post that on pretty much every social media site possible.  He's a very handsome man, but as a woman?  Well, notsomuch.  The dog he's holding is Nena, his favorite childhood toy, and he about peed himself when I pulled it out of one of the boxes.  He was so giddy about it and could not stop giggling.  That's why going through boxes is awesome.  Oh, and the Jazz shirt he's wearing?  Yeah, he got that when he was 7.  I'm pretty sure if I tried to put on a shirt I wore when I was 7, I might be able to fit it around my thigh.

Anyways, as I've been going through all my schoolwork from elementary school, I've come across some pretty awesome gems.  Like this one, I posted on Facebook yesterday:

How's that for dreaming big?  Go get 'em, younger Chelsea.  Anyways, it gave me an idea for my blog.  Hooray.  So, apparently there's a "Throwback Thursday" on Instagram, where everyone posts pictures from the past - imagine that.  Since I'm so clever, (and because I have a whole living room full of material), every Thursday I'm going to post something from my past (and maybe Shawn's past, if you're lucky.)  It might be a picture, a journal entry, one of my really awesome short stories, a note from junior high (because I have nothing short of 4328489302482093 of those), and other super neat and embarrassing stuff like that.  So now you have something to look forward to every Thursday.  You're welcome.  

Today I'm going to share the most anti-climactic short story ever - complete with an excellent illustration.

Womp womp.  Clearly I hadn't mastered the art of happy endings quite yet.

(And we're just going to pretend that last sentence didn't sound nearly as dirty as it totally did.)  

I realize that this won't be nearly as fun for you guys as it will be for me, which is why you should do it too!  Seriously, go through your old crap and post it - it's totally okay if you copy my brilliant idea.  And we just won't tell whoever actually came up with Throwback Thursday.  Deal?  Do it.

I have to go make sure Toby isn't eating all our memories.  

Peace out, old farts.  

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