I may have mentioned a time or ten that the resident hoarder has been slowly working on cleaning up the disaster zone we refer to as The Storage Room. A more accurate name would be "The Room I'm Scared Of Because Every Time I Go In There, I Get Attacked By Boxes," but whatever. Nearly three years after we moved into this house and after another seven years of paying to store all of the crap that's down there because our previous house was too small for all of it, he's "working" on it.
Current status: The garage is completely full of garbage.
Wanna guess which one of us is prouder than a new mom that the garage is full of garbage and which one of us is fuming that ALL THAT CRAP WAS NOTHING BUT GARBAGE I TOLD YOU SO WTF STABSTABSTAB?
I know, it's hard to guess.
Regardless, he has found a lot of fun stuff down there. Some of it has been hysterical, some of it like a little lost treasure, and then there's the stuff that I knew was in there, but I was too scared to go looking for it. See also: No, really, the boxes have attacked me.
Our wedding album. It has been uncovered.
I last set eyes on it YEARS ago. I have since forgotten what I did with the photographs that I took out of it. Our photographer was one who would only sell you the album and they insisted on gluing the photos into the album, but at some point I defeated a lot of that glue. And did something with the best photographs. And when I think of what that "something" might be, I probably still won't be able to find them because the resident hoarder will have moved them twenty times by then.
Anyway, when we got married in 2000, there was an . . . incident, yes, let's go with "incident," right before our wedding ceremony. To say that we were pissed off would be an understatement of grand proportions. In fact, I haven't spoken to my family members who initiated the whole stupid mess since. WHY, YES, I DO HOLD GRUDGES. But only against people who insist on being jerks on my wedding day. Just because they were the owners of the home where we got married didn't mean they had a license to behave the way they did.
It's a long story. Let's stick to calling it an "incident" and move on, shall we?
I only mention The Incident because you can CLEARLY see just how mad Mr. Husband and I were as we were walking down the aisle.
How spectacular is that? We were about to get married and we were united by a blinding fit of rage. So sweet, right?
This is probably a little bit sweeter.
Our flower girl was one of The Hoarder's cousins. She is now a giant who towers over me. She's still adorable, but OMG GET OFF MY LAWN, KID.
On the right is The Hoarder's youngest brother. He's all grown up now but I would still think long and hard about it before I trusted him with a couple of wedding rings.
Speaking of The Hoarder:
Yes, I married Jerry O'Connell circa Scream 2.
And I did it while wearing the most perfectest dress of all time. I especially loved the back.
Although a lot of the detail is lost in that crap copy of the photo, it was pretty magnificent. I think our cat Powder disagreed, though. He peed on that dress while we were on our honeymoon.
He's still alive. I find that fact amazing even now.
As for the wedding, we stayed mad even after the ceremony.
But we did eventually figure out that all the family drama didn't really matter.
See? Smiles!
And more smiles!
And even more smiles!
If I had a do-over on the day, there is exactly one thing I would change. No, I wouldn't avoid The Incident that went down right before the ceremony. Nope. Instead, I would make good use of the pool that was in the middle of our reception.
I should have "accidentally" shoved my uncle in that pool. It would have TOTALLY changed the tone of the entire day for the better. Heh.
Thursday, January 12, 2012