I lived up the street from a bar. So I was there a lot. Sometimes alone with a book at happy hour, and sometimes with my best friend.

This particular time, I went with my bestest friend.

We had to bartend together during the Super Bowl one year, since we don't really like sports, we thought it would be funny to holler at the players at inapropriate moments. Like during a commercial, or when the ball went sailing through the air before anything actually happened. It was funny. Anytime we yelled "OOOOHHHHH!" or "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" the wives stuck at the bar while their husbands watched the game, laughed really hard. So we did this quite often.

This time we yelled at the speed skaters during the Winter Olympics at my regular bar. We cheered as they rounded the turns, and booed them for no reason.

We must have drawn some attention to ourselves because a handsome gentleman came over to me to tell me how much he liked the jacket I was wearing.

Yeah that one. Come on! That jacket is bad ass! Of course it had fewer holes in it at the time, but I was very proud of it. I wore it EVERYWHERE. I even slept in it. That jacket had been with me for most of my adult life, and it's not going anywhere soon. I was so bad ass.

On second thought maybe I was just scary.

The handsome gentleman and his friend sat down with us, and yelled at the speed skaters right along with us.

He drove me home that night, and wouldn't even let me give him a sloppy, drunk kiss at the end of the night. He just gave me a hug. awwwwww. What a good guy.

And the rest is history.

So between Valentines Day, and the Winter Olympics, we are filled with gobs of gooey nostalgia.

AWWWWWWWW. puke. :)