So you thought this would be a post about me when I looked like this (I'm in the purple and Abby's the darling one in pink)...
...but it's actually a post about 25-year-old me that hasn't progressed since age 4. Let me explain: I cannot eat without spilling on myself. This is not an exaggeration. One time I was on a date with a cute guy and he bought me JDawgs for lunch (famous hot dog place in Provo that has a special secret sauce). I thought the date was going well...good conversation, etc...until my date paused mid-sentence, grabbed a napkin, and wiped some special sauce off my forehead. Embarrassing. He never asked me out again. The reason I'm writing about this now is to document something funny Ryan said to me last night at Hires Big H. We went to dinner there for Annie's birthday (HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANNIE!) last night and it blew my mind how many times I spilled on my pants. White pants. Bad idea for Liz to own white pants. By the end of the night, I had like 5 fry sauce stains, 1 stain from the fudge sundae Annie got for free, and 1 stain from the avocado that wasn't supposed to be on my burger. It was disgusting. Ryan's comment: "You can always tell what Liz ate...just look at her pants!" Embarrassing.
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