Hi. I'm the man in this little outfit. This is a picture of me at a very young and fragile age. Now, I'm sure that most of the readers of this page are going to be acquaintances of Liz, so allow me to introduce myself by way of Our story. Yes, Our story. It is fraught with romance, adventure, and just a little gas. Here's the beginning: I served my mission in San Bernardino, California. I spoke English, but my best friend was a Spanish speaker by the name of Nate Johnson. We agreed to start a band after our missions and ended up doing just that. I moved to SLC and swam in the murky dating pools called "Single's Wards." Dark times, chums. During this long term of being single, Nate was dating/marrying a kick-in-the-pants kind of gal named Cally Ashton, Liz's trainer from Spain. I think you can see the what happened next. Nate went out on a limb and invited the two of us out for a grand double date. We went (both dreading yet another lame, blind date) but ended up kinda enjoying the evening. I didn't talk to her... at least not that much. The both of us naturally went with what was comfortable and stuck to conversing with our friends. Once the date was over, I mustered whatever manliness was present in my incredibly small frame (being constructed of toothpicks and Q-tips) and asked for her phone number. That, my friends, took some brass. I had never done it before. Never. 26 years without asking for a dame's number. Chalk that one up for the Lame column. Regardless, I called and we started a phone banter. Then we went out and started real life banter. Then we did what other couples have done throughout history and decided that we couldn't live without the other. And that is how it's done. Sure, there is a lot more to it - a lot more - but I'm tired. I'll tell more of the story later. As for the gas part, we just use a lot of it to get from Provo to SLC. And you thought I was being crass. Here's to attending a lovely evening at the BYU-Law Prom tomorrow night. My baby's gon' look so good.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
No one can tell me that I'm doing wrong today
Hi. I'm the man in this little outfit. This is a picture of me at a very young and fragile age. Now, I'm sure that most of the readers of this page are going to be acquaintances of Liz, so allow me to introduce myself by way of Our story. Yes, Our story. It is fraught with romance, adventure, and just a little gas. Here's the beginning: I served my mission in San Bernardino, California. I spoke English, but my best friend was a Spanish speaker by the name of Nate Johnson. We agreed to start a band after our missions and ended up doing just that. I moved to SLC and swam in the murky dating pools called "Single's Wards." Dark times, chums. During this long term of being single, Nate was dating/marrying a kick-in-the-pants kind of gal named Cally Ashton, Liz's trainer from Spain. I think you can see the what happened next. Nate went out on a limb and invited the two of us out for a grand double date. We went (both dreading yet another lame, blind date) but ended up kinda enjoying the evening. I didn't talk to her... at least not that much. The both of us naturally went with what was comfortable and stuck to conversing with our friends. Once the date was over, I mustered whatever manliness was present in my incredibly small frame (being constructed of toothpicks and Q-tips) and asked for her phone number. That, my friends, took some brass. I had never done it before. Never. 26 years without asking for a dame's number. Chalk that one up for the Lame column. Regardless, I called and we started a phone banter. Then we went out and started real life banter. Then we did what other couples have done throughout history and decided that we couldn't live without the other. And that is how it's done. Sure, there is a lot more to it - a lot more - but I'm tired. I'll tell more of the story later. As for the gas part, we just use a lot of it to get from Provo to SLC. And you thought I was being crass. Here's to attending a lovely evening at the BYU-Law Prom tomorrow night. My baby's gon' look so good.
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