The Goat has come a long way in these nearly seventeen years of marriage. And the best way to demonstrate that of course, is in pictures.
In the year of our Lord, 1976, two years after his own high school graduation, my Dearly Beloved attended prom, making him one of those older guys that no one knew. It was a double date affair. He and "a buddy of a guy that I worked with" escorted the ladies in a "souped-up Cutlass."
I like the ruffles on the shirt cuffs.
"I can do pink."
Sure you can, Starsky.
This strikes me as a casual outfit worn either before or after a night out at the famed Utopia dance club. Doesn't he look like one of Tony Manero's gang from Saturday Night Fever?
*** Stayin' alive, stayin' alive. Just stayin' alive! ***
Here we find the Goat relaxing on his vehicle: either the "Plymouth Fury or the Chrysler Newport;" further determination unavailable as "those were some lost years."
Wonder if he found what he was looking for.
This photo is notable as it was taken before the festivities began. My Dearly Beloved was on his way to perform the duties of Best Man ("Yeah, I think I was the Best Man. Yeah.") at what "must have been Charlie's" wedding.
Is it just me, or are his posing techniques uncanny?
This picture was shoved between the pages of the all-Goat album that the rest of today's pix came from. I don't know why. That's me at about the same age as the Goat was in the last photo. I, too, was at a friend's wedding.
Maybe it's here for contrast. Dunno.
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