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Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies...
(idea stolen without mercy from belmikey)

Tell me how we met. Oh, and lie outrageously in the process. Lying is important here.

Under the circumstances, I am relaxing my normal policy and anonymous comments will be unscreened at my discretion, even if (especially if) I can't tell who the poster is.

This is probably going to be cross-posted to Facebook. If you see it in both places, feel free to reply differently in both places.

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It was backstage at a Fleetwood Mac concert. I can't remember which one, they all kind of blend together. But I think it was '79 or thereabouts. We were both vying for an audience with Stevie Nicks, but she came out of her dressing room, grabbed some stoned chick in a varsity letter sweater, and swept her inside. Eventually, we got tired of waiting for her to come back out and went to get a bite to eat at a nearby Steak and Shake with a couple of the other spurned fanboys.

I think how we actually met is funny enough (to me, at least) that making things up is redundant.

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