Last night my friend Sara and I crashed the other HB ward's family home evening. Many of you have heard my qualms about the area and how they don't enforce the boundaries, so Sara and I are--not exaggerating--the oldest people in our ward (and she leaves in a few short months), so even though I really do love the people in my ward, any excuse to mingle with some other wards is still welcome. It's nice to interact with people who are old enough to remember pogs.
And they were going to Cafe Rio. How was I to resist?
So we go to Cafe Rio and I recognize one of the guys from the Pierside ward as one of Trevor (aka, DawgBreath)'s friends that had been over once while I was there. Now, the freakish memory that I have, I saw him and could immediately tell you his name (Ryan Anderson), how I knew him (we had dinner with Ray and Kathy when he was in Brea one evening), what we ate (turkey burgers), what we talked about (HCG, p90x, and 17-day diets), and the name of his brother (Brett). And, no, I do not even have a crush on this guy or anything. I just remember these things. It's the strangest thing. I'm not entirely sure how it works.
Anyhow, rather than make the boy think he had a full-fledged stalker (as flattering as I'm sure that would be), I went with some less-intense, generic greeting. I re-introduced myself (because we did not know each other well enough that I should have even recognized him, honestly) because it just seemed like the right thing to do.
The conversation was brief. It went about like this:
Him: Yeah, so Trevor and Tanne getting married this weekend. Another friend getting married off.
Me: I know. But I'm really happy for them.
Him: Yeah. So you're going to the thing on Friday?
Me:
*short pause because he said Friday. I know the wedding is on Saturday, and I thought they were doing the reception the same night, but maybe they moved it back to Friday. I didn't really check the invitation that closely, so I'll have to look at that when I get back home. I think Dad thinks it's Saturday too. Maybe I should call him. What if they hit traffic in Vegas? What if they miss the reception because he thinks it's on Saturday? What if the actual wedding is on Friday now? I need to get work off and cancel my dentist's appointment. And speaking of, the Newport Beach Temple is technically still closed for cleaning. Maybe it's in LA. How early would we have to leave to make it through traffic and still get to LA? I guess we're not going to the beach that morning.*
Me: Yeah. You?
Him: Yes, I am actually deejaying the whole thing.
Me: That's cool. I guess I'll talk you up then. Although I'll pretty much just be hanging out with my dad probably, because I won't know a ton of people there.
Him: *overly appreciative laughter*
Me: But, yeah, since my dad will be there, I'll still tell my dad how awesome the DJ is.
Him: *appreciative laughter turns into nervously frightened laughter*
Now fast-forward to about 11pm that night. That's about the hour that I recall that our wards are having a joint beach party YSA activity on Friday night, the kind of party that would definitely require a DJ. And it is definitely on Friday. And I was going on about how excited I was that my dad was able to make it. Driving all the way from Utah just to come.
What a creeper I am. Now I just need to mention all those random facts I remember about him and the complete freakout cycle should be finished. I am an (accidental) diabolical genius.
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