I won! I won! I won all you hot pink dress-wearing, bald haters!

So, in honor of my award winning, cleavage showing dress, I've decided to dedicate this guest blog to Mrs. Steve (who's cleavage rivals yours, mine and your grandma's put together) and their (Steve and Mrs. Steve's, not the boob's) relationship as I have known it.

Mrs. Steve and I met years ago as college freshmen. Provo blew so we transferred up to the University of Utah together where most of our time there is a blur. Inference?

We lived in the Avenues with our lovable albeit crazy (and I say this because I love you) roommate Jillers, and a menagerie of randoms who needed a place to crash and a futon to pee on. I'll get to that later...

After moving to Washington D.C. for a semester, I missed my Mrs. Steve. She came out to visit. With this photo in her pocket. And a few more in her purse. "I'M IN LOOOOOVE!" She cooed.

Now, no disrespect, Steve, but I kind of just stared at her. "You're in love with a teenage boy in a junkyard with a guitar, snowboard and a slight goatee?"

"Yesssssssss! Isn't he the cutest! And he skateboards!" She sing-songed back to me.

I wondered if he ollied inside that broken down bus. Because THEN I would understand the coolness. But she soon explained these were his senior pictures and he was , at that time, a matured RM she'd spotted out at the ol' singles ward. Sh*t. I was losing my best friend to a guy who handed out his senior pictures as love tokens. BUT.

But then I came home and met Steve. And I thought he was great. He thought I hated him. We fought. We forgave. We forgot. We moved into the condo just below he and his roommates. He put up with a lot. When I say a lot, I mean, well, a lot. Let's make a small sampling of what a lot means:
1. Mrs. Steve making out with 90's rockstars. Don't knock it till you try it. But still.
2. Mrs. Steve flying to other states to make out with 90's rock stars.
3. Getting his eyebrows groomed by said crazy roommate Jillers (love you!)
4. Getting told to go home whilst in the middle of getting LDS-approved action by said crazy roommate Jillers because "Hailers needs to go to bed!"
5. Sitting on our futon, feeling strange liquid seeping into his pants from futon cushion, smelling strange liquid, declairing strange liquid now all over him as, in Steve's exact words, "Sick, I just sat in piss!" Only to find out Jillers let some random crash on our couch who had apparently drank to much, "pissed himself" (again, Steve's words, not mine) and hailed a cab to save himself some embarrassment. And all Steve wanted to do was take his love to breakfast.

The list goes on. But through it all, Steve endured and got the girl in the end. And they make an amazing team and I love them both and their darling children.

I'm sure when Steve finally married Hailey he was glad to be rid of her crazy roommates. Until he met his father-in-law.