Reminiscing With Alzheimer’s

Frank & Sarah are getting married, and on a happy occasion like this, I think it’s only appropriate that we share our favorite memories of the lucky couple.
Sort of.
So I’m stealing this notion from Tammi of Tammi’s World:

“Remember the time we…”
Please post a comment with a completely fictional memory of you and me. It can be anything you want– good or bad, silly or stupid, believable or not — but it has to be fake.

What are YOUR best memories of time spent with Frank & Sarah?

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  1. I remember one time Frank and I and Sarah went shooting, and I didn’t come in FIRST!, but we all had a good time.
    Frank and Sarah shot some hippies and one commie on the way to their house.
    Later we drank beer and played video games.

  2. I remember in band camp, when Frank and Sarah and I wore our bras on the outside of our uniforms whilst doing lascivious things with our clarinets. Good times.
    Oh wait, you wanted fictional stories…sorry.
    Happy wedded bliss, you two!

  3. Michelle Malkin? Wow!
    I remember the time Frank J., SarahK and I were hiking the Grand Canyon and Frank tripped over a cactus and I had to hold him down while SarahK pulled needles out of his heinie. We were blinded for 2 hours after having to look at his white rump! What a day!

  4. Ahhh.. the memories, I remember their wedding like it happened today. It was cold as hell on the lake that day and the fish weren’t biting at all. The wind was screeching like Hillary at a Dykes on Bikes festival.
    Congratulations.

  5. I’ll never forget that time that Frank, Sarah, and I donned our ninja gear, snuck into the DNC headquarters, and pissed in Howard’s liquor cabinet. The DNC’s winged monkeys guards were pretty fierce, but Sarah’s got a wicked aim with a shuriken…

  6. I remember the time that Frank J. and Sarah K.-J. got married, and I got linked front page at IMAO.
    Yeah, it was awesome. Of course, I didn’t post any reasonable, funny, or angrifying blog posts that day, so I kind of fumbled the ball there.
    …wait, the day’s not over. I’m off to post and make the most of my 15 minutes of e-fame!

  7. I remember that one time at the Vast Right Wing / Elders of Zion Chritsmas party. Me and Frank J. prank called a bunch of reporters saying we were Rove and Libby and said something about some Plame lady being a CIA agent. After Sarah K pulled Rove’s head out of the egg nogg she came and got very mad at us and pistol whipped us with her Mr. Shinny. Oh those were the days

  8. Remember the time Frank and I were out drinking and after his seventh Zima he decided that we should all go down to the protest march. It was the million moron march or moonbats against the war or something. Anyway Sarahk had this great idea to get a lot of the protesters to “register” with the DNC. Because they were all stoned out hippie types they didn’t even realise they were going into an army recruters office. Twelve weeks later lots of sun and sand.
    Good times… Congratulations

  9. Heh. Wow, so many stories to tell… Remember that time when we were messing around at that Kinkos in Texas, faxing crap that we had banged out on the copies of MS Word they had laying around?
    For those who weren’t there, you have to imagine Frank hunched over a HP officejet, wearing nothing but boxer shorts and war paint, screaming in a fake Scottish burr “Off ye go! Fly fast, me boys! Those wretches might be dumb enough to believe it!” Meanwhile, I’m copying the same document over & over as fast as I can (with six rum & cokes playing hell with my coordination) and Sarah is baricading the door to keep the Kinkos manager from coming back in to stop us. He eventually crawled in through the skylight and we had to leave.
    Good times, good times.

  10. I can’t help but think back to those times in Istanbul, when Frank J. played the international arms market and SarahK danced in the souk. The nights drinking among the ruins of the Blachernae, laughing at the dervishes in Hagia Sophiak, skinny-dipping in the Golden Horn.
    If Frank J. had only stuck to smuggling weapons . . .

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