I saw someone else answer this question over on another blog. I’ve been asked a few times to tell the tale of how Scott and I met, so here it is for posterity.

Back in the day, I was in an improv group called Simply Improv. Or we may have been Improvus Comicus by that point. We certainly were beyond the time when we were Wheel of Improv, because we lost that name shortly after I joined the group. I had no say in any of these names, FYI. At any rate, at that time we were the house improv group at the Comedy Underground, the comedy club in Pioneer Square. We had a weekly slot there, on either seldom-attended Wednesday night or seldom-attended Sunday night … and on some lucky weeks we got to perform on both Wednesday AND Sunday.

At one point we had five women in the group, so we put together an all-woman show. Several of the guys in the group came to see that show, including a guy named Mike. Now Mike was in that class of guys we refer to as “an asshole, but he’s OUR asshole”. He was one of those prankster trickster douchebag dicks, but he was on our side most of the time and he was a hell of a funny guy. Mike was also getting into stand-up comedy at the time, and had made some friends at the seldom-attended Monday night stand-up open mikes at the Underground. He attended the all-woman show, and brought his stand-up buddy Scott with him.

Scott agreed to go to the show on one condition: that nobody picked on him. Mike said he’d let us know. Of course, he didn’t. So partway through the show, fellow improviser Maura and I did a game called “Lounge Lizards”, in which we picked guys from the audience, got a couple of facts about them, and sang them a song.

I’m sure you can guess who I chose.

I got his name, and asked him what he did for a living. He grimaced and squirmed and told me he was a student. So I asked the next logical improv question, “What would you like to be?” His answer: “Anywhere but here!” So on I sang, probably about what an obstinant non-answerer he was, and we started out thinking that we were both jerks. He was a guy who came to an improv show and sat in the front, yet didn’t want to answer a simple question; I was the chick who went against what Mike requested and pestered him anyway.

I started to try stand-up, and slowly got to know Scott. We figured out amongst ourselves that Mike never let us know to not bother him, and probably sat Scott in the front on purpose, just to be a dick. We became friends, which was a great way to start. I invited him to a Tacoma Rainiers game in July, since I had free tickets from the radio station where I worked. It was a pretty instant click. I invited him to go with me down to L.A. and Disneyland that October, since I was already going down there to visit my friend Alicia. We moved in together in December, and got “the ring” in February.

The following August, slightly over one year after that first baseball game, we got hitched at the Clark County Courthouse in Vegas. It was 114 degrees that day, and we got married wearing t-shirts and shorts, then went to the Fremont Street McDonalds for lunch afterward. To show you our level of dorkitude, there’s a photo around somewhere of us feeding each other a french fry.